Page 58 of Hellebore

The thought steals the air from my lungs, but I force myself to keep moving until I find the kitchen.

It’s enormous. Black walls, black wood counters with grey marble tops. The appliances look new but styled to match the gothic bones of the house. I open the fridge and freeze.

“Oh…”

It’s fully stocked. All my favorites are here, little liquid yogurts, different cheeses, hazelnut cream, fresh fruit, vegetables. And the cake I made. The one he took a slice from for me.

How does he know all this? It can’t be a coincidence.

I close the fridge and notice colorful light flickering across the hardwood floor. There’s a side door with beautiful stained glass in deep blues and purples. I grab the handle and turn it. To my surprise, it opens.

I dart outside into the cold air.

The garden is breathtaking and eerie, carefully manicured bushes, marble benches covered in moss, and a fountain of a half-naked woman with broken wings. Her face is calm, almost peaceful, despite the decay crawling over her stone skin.

What kind of place is this?

I round the fountain and pass through an archway woven with dark ivy and blood-red roses. My heart stops when I step into the hidden square.

It’s a garden completely enclosed by tall, dense hedges. In the center, hundreds of black and purple hellebore bloom under the fog, their petals glistening.

I walk through the hellebore garden, the black and purple blooms swaying gently in the cold breeze. They look almost beautiful in the fading light, delicate, poisonous, cared for with obsessive love.

So this is where the flowers he left for me came from.

A loud, guttural noise suddenly cuts through the silence, half scream, half sob. It comes from inside the mansion.

My heart leaps into my throat. I should run the other way. I should try to find the gates and escape before night fully claims this place. But another broken cry echoes from the house, and I follow the sound.

Past the kitchen, down the long stone hallway, until I reach a narrow set of stairs leading down into darkness. Only a single old oil lamp flickers at the bottom, casting long, trembling shadows on the damp walls. The air smells of wet stone, moss, and something metallic.

I should leave. I should run, but my feet carry me down anyway.

The basement is colder, heavier. Several heavy wooden doors line the corridor, reinforced with iron. A weak light spills from the last one, slightly ajar. The sounds are clearer now, wet, pained whimpers and mumbled words about flowers eating him alive.

I stop right outside the half-open door, hands ice-cold and trembling. My heart beats so hard I can hear it in my ears, I peek inside.

The blond man, Tom, is strapped to a steel table, one eye swollen shut from the beating. His nose is crooked and bleeding. Blood drips steadily onto the stone floor. He’s staring at the ceiling, muttering deliriously about black petals growing inside his chest.

Drystan stands in the corner, back partially to me. His hands are covered in blood. Dark, wet streaks run up his forearms. Is that… guts? Is he actually cutting him open?

I look to the left, there is a small wooden table with two small jars, one with a cork and one half empty, open. A label with an H on them. Is that made of Hellebore? Some serum?

“Briar.”

His voice cuts through the fog in my mind. He turns slowly. Blood coats his hands and the front of his black shirt. Those forest-green eyes lock onto mine, calm and terrifying.

I panic.

I lunge for the small table beside me, grab one of the glass jars, the open one, and bring it to my lips.

“No, Briar—!” Drystan roars, moving faster than should be possible. His bloody hand knocks the vial after I tilt it and part of the liquid slides down my throat. The glass shatters against the wall, liquid splashing across the stone.

“What have you done—” He grabs me, eyes wide with something that looks terrifying. “Briar!”

“I’d rather die than suffer like him!” I cry out, lungs burning as I struggle against his iron grip.

“Oh, my love…” His voice drops, dark and pained. “This won’t kill you. It will be so much worse.”