TW : Death threats, anxiety, hints towards an anxiety attack, breakdowns, minor mentions of death.
Still staring- no- glaring at the fancy letter, I started thinking of all sorts of things this letter contained. Death threats? Hoping that I rot in hell? As if hell itself would accept me. They wouldn't even survive a day with me around.
I sighed, leaning back in the armchair I was sat in. I glanced at the roaring fire in burning in the fireplace, keeping the room lit and warm.
When did my life become so messy and complicated?
I looked up, letting my gaze wander to wherever it pleases. I stared at the intricate designs in each corner of the tables, the gorgeous designs on the wall mouldings, the beautiful little details embedded into the fabric of each armchair and cushion.
I stared at the ground by the coffee table, chuckling at the memory that passes through my head. I used to sit at that exact spot in this exact living room, drawing or colouring wonky little butterflies and abnormally round-shaped animals.
Father used to compliment my ridiculous artwork. I'd -of course- always known that they were lies whenever he said it was the most marvellous thing he'd ever seen, but nevertheless, the gesture had always still touched me.
What happened? Where did the unproblematic old me go? My old self who would sit by the fire, colouring, drawing, maybe reading with not a care in the world.
How did the old me who was always so joyful and unproblematic, end up being the main suspect of a bloody murder?
"Lady Wyetta," I heard a voice echo through the entrance of the sitting room. "Dinner's ready. Sir Alan had requested that I fetched you," recognizing the voice, I answered without feeling the need to turn my head.
"Tell them I'll be right there, Cara," I said softly. I heard her footsteps fade away, signaling she had left. After a final glance at the stupid letter, I stuffed it in the pocket of my trousers, getting up to go head to the dining room.
"Ah, Wyetta, there you are," father greeted me with a smile.
"Good evening father, mother," I greeted, sitting myself down on the comfortable chair.
"So what's in the sumptuous letter?" father questioned, digging into his food hungrily.
"I haven't opened it," I answered simply.
"Oh?" he raised a brow. "And why not?"
"I don't know. I just don't feel like opening it yet," I shrugged. He nodded in response, sort of agreeing with my statement, perhaps?
"How are you doing, father, mother?" I asked, glancing at both of them as I stuffed a piece of chicken inside my mouth. Tasty. Mother looked up from her food, surprise etched on her face.
"I'm doing very well, honey. Your father is, too. And you?" she smiled. My face muscles didn't respond to that, so I just shrugged again, hoping they wouldn't question me further. In all honesty, I just don't know how to reply and explain things. I started quickly eating my dinner, knowing I needed a rest day.
The rest of dinner went by quietly, thank heavens. Mother and father exchanged a few quiet looks, but that was about it. No more small talks.
"May I be excused?" I asked after finishing dinner.
"Of course," mother smiled brightly. I finally smiled back before getting up and headed to my room.
I smiled politely and nodded at the maids and guards I passed by as I headed to my room, the usual. I shut my door as soon as I got back in my room, sighing as I leaned on my door.
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Dawn of The New Lord
Mystery / Thriller"So, you think I'm pretty," I stated with a smirk. He froze for a second, processing what I'd said and what he had said. He hid his shocked expression rather quickly- although it wasn't much of an expression. It was just a slight change in his stoi...
