ChapterThree
1118 Words
CHAPTER 3 — New House
The morning came too quickly.
Elena barely slept.
Her eyes were heavy.
Her chest was tight.
Her thoughts would not stop.
She sat on the edge of her bed in the small apartment.
Her hands rested on her knees.
Her fingers fidgeted.
Her mind raced.
This apartment had been her home.
Small. Messy. Simple.
But it was hers.
Her mother’s laughter had filled it.
The smell of cooking.
Sunlight on the floor in the morning.
All of it was gone now.
She had to leave.
She had no choice.
She packed slowly.
A few shirts.
Jeans.
Some underwear.
A scarf. Her mother’s scarf.
It was soft. Worn. Familiar.
She held it to her face.
It smelled faintly of home.
Of her mother.
A tear slipped down her cheek.
She pressed it into the scarf.
Whispered:
“I’ll come back. I promise.”
But even she was not sure if she could.
A taxi waited outside.
The street was quiet.
Empty.
Gray.
The rain had stopped, but the world smelled wet.
Cool. Sharp.
Elena’s shoes clicked against the pavement.
Her bag felt heavy on her shoulder.
Her heart felt heavier.
The taxi door opened.
She climbed inside.
The leather seat was smooth.
Cold.
Foreign.
The car moved slowly through the city.
She watched buildings blur past.
People walked.
Cars honked.
Life moved around her.
But she felt frozen.
Her fingers dug into her arms.
Her stomach ached.
Her chest felt full of stones.
One year.
She repeated it in her head.
One year. One year. One year.
Her mother’s face flashed in her mind.
Weak. Pale. Fragile.
She swallowed hard.
Tears threatened again.
She pressed her palms against her face.
The taxi moved on.
The streets became cleaner, wider, quieter.
The rich part of the city.
She had never been here before.
It felt unreal.
Finally, the car stopped.
The Blackwood Estate loomed in front of her.
A mountain of glass and stone.
Cold.
Perfect.
Intimidating.
She stepped out.
Her feet felt heavy.
Her stomach twisted.
The air smelled of flowers and stone.
Polished metal.
Something she could not name.
The gates opened slowly.
They seemed to judge her.
She felt small.
Like a child in a world not made for her.
A maid stood at the entrance.
Uniform neat.
Face calm.
Hands folded.
Eyes unreadable.
“Miss Elena,” she said.
“Welcome. I will show you your room.”
Elena nodded.
Her voice had gone.
She could not speak.
She followed the maid inside.
The hall was wide.
Her footsteps echoed.
Shadows stretched along the walls.
Portraits of unknown people watched her.
The silence was heavy.
She felt tiny.
Like she did not belong here.
They climbed the stairs.
The hallway seemed to go on forever.
Every door the same.
Every wall the same.
The air smelled faintly of flowers and polished wood.
The maid stopped at a large door.
“This is your room,” she said.
Elena stepped inside.
The room was enormous.
Much bigger than her entire apartment.
A bed covered in soft blankets.
A large window with curtains that brushed the floor.
A desk.
A closet.
Everything was clean. Ordered. Perfect.
But it was not home.
It did not feel warm.
It did not feel hers.
The maid placed a small key on the table.
“If you need anything, call,” she said.
Then she left.
The door closed.
Alone.
Elena sat on the edge of the bed.
Her hands rested in her lap.
Her fingers twisted together.
The room smelled cold.
Silent.
Empty.
The floor was smooth under her feet.
The walls seemed too tall.
The ceiling too high.
Her mother’s scarf was still in her hand.
She pressed it to her face.
It smelled like home.
Like safety.
Like love.
Tears slid down her cheeks.
Slow. Quiet.
Soft.
Like the rain outside.
She hugged her knees.
Her chest hurt.
Her stomach ached.
Her body shook.
She wanted to scream.
To cry out.
To throw something.
But no sound came.
Her mother was alive.
For now.
But far away.
And she was alone in this beautiful, empty house.
She whispered:
“Mom… I hope this will save you.”
A knock came at the door.
Her heart jumped.
Her palms grew sweaty.
Her breath caught.
The door opened.
Alexander Blackwood stepped inside.
He did not smile.
He did not try to comfort.
He did not soften.
He was cold.
Sharp.
Dangerous.
Every step he took filled the room with his presence.
“Your mother’s treatment has begun,” he said.
Her lips trembled.
Relief mixed with fear.
“Thank… you,” she whispered.
He did not respond.
“This house has rules,” he said.
“You will follow them.”
Her throat tightened.
She nodded.
“You will learn them soon,” he said.
She nodded again.
He stepped closer.
Not to comfort.
Not to threaten.
Just to make sure she understood.
“From now on, you live here,” he said.
Her stomach dropped.
Her heart pounded.
Her hands curled into fists.
“Yes,” she whispered.
He looked at her for a long moment.
No smile.
No warmth.
Only cold, sharp eyes.
Then he turned and left.
The door clicked shut.
Alone.
Elena sat very still.
Her body ached.
Her chest hurt.
Her hands rested on her lap.
Her fingers trembled.
The silence pressed against her.
The walls seemed taller.
The ceiling seemed higher.
She pressed the scarf to her face again.
Her mother’s scent wrapped around her.
She whispered:
“I hope I can survive this.
I hope I can save her.
I hope… I am strong enough.”
She felt tears fall again.
Slow.
Soft.
Quiet.
Like the rain outside.
She pressed her head into her knees.
Her heart screamed.
Her stomach twisted.
Her body shook.
The house was silent.
Beautiful.
Cold.
Empty.
And she was alone.
For one year, she would live here.
One year.
Her life would no longer belong to her.
It belonged to Alexander Blackwood now.
She closed her eyes.
Her body felt broken.
Her heart felt broken.
Her mind felt heavy.
But she stayed.
Because she loved her mother.
Because she had no choice.
Because sometimes love asked for impossible things.
And she would give them.
Even if it hurt.
Even if it broke her.
Even if it changed everything.
The rain outside began again.
Soft.
Slow.
Sad.
Elena whispered:
“Please… keep her alive.”
Her fingers gripped the scarf tighter.
Tears fell quietly.
She did not cry out.
Not here.
Not now.
But inside, something in her was breaking.
Slowly.
Softly.
Quietly.
And she knew she could never go back.
End of Chapter Three
- Writer
