Chapter Five

Florence Clemonte glared down on her niece, her eyes sharp and full of coldness. She clenched her jaw to keep from insulting the snooping child, and waited impatiently for an explanation.

“Aunt… I was just… I fell, and I thought I heard a hollow sound from one of the floorboards so I –I wanted to…”

“Get back to your room this instant.” Florence gritted out, her eyes flashing with scorn.

Ophelia scampered to her feet and hastily limped towards her room which was the fourth door on the left, next to the music room and before the old drawing room. She ignored the pain that shot up her leg with every step and kept putting distance between her and aunt Florence.

Ophelia never thought she’d be relieved or happy to be back in the depressing room but as she slammed the door shut and pushed the lock in place, relief flooded her and she slid down the door onto the brown carpet, breathing normally again.

She wondered why their aunt made her feel frightened and uneasy. It wasn’t like she was doing anything wrong, but at the same time, aunt Florence made her feel like she was breaking one of the rules.

“I didn’t break any rule, did I?” she asked herself, mentally going through the rules. There wasn’t anything about investigating hollow floorboards.

Ophelia shrugged, and got on her feet. She inspected her bruised knee and concluded a disinfectant, bandage and painkillers were all it needed. Wobbling to the bathroom connected to her room, Ophelia rummaged through the drawers under the sink and found a first aid box which looked like it hadn’t been opened in centuries. Thankfully, the contents inside were still clean, and she made sure none of the medications and disinfectants were expired.

After patching up her knee, she ran a hot bath and wore her favorite watermelon patterned pajamas. The depressing aura of the room and the dim yellow lights added to the feeling of grief and sadness which Ophelia fought. She contemplated painting something, but felt too drained and disheartened to even lift a paintbrush.

The clock on her nightstand read a quarter to six, so she crashed on the enormous bed and snuggled under the clean white sheets to take an evening nap. A few minutes later, Ophelia fell fast asleep.

-

William Clemonte shook his sister out of her slumber and she shot up from the bed, distraught and perplexed.

Ophelia blinked away the blurriness from her eyes and took a quick glance at the clock. It read five minutes to ten. She had slept for almost five hours. The little chubby fingers that were tapping her shoulders continued and her vision settled on her little brother.

The fear and alarm in his eyes completely brought her back to reality.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” she croaked out, her voice rough.

“Sam is having a manic episode. He’s trying to go outside. Dad and auntie are trying to stop him, but he’s out of control. They told me to get his medications but I can’t find them. I don’t know what to do, Lia.” Will rushed out, already on the verge of tears.

Ophelia sprang into action, instructing her brother to stay in her room, and sprinting downstairs to Sam’s room, the pain in her right leg completely ignored. She rummaged through the wardrobe, the drawers, and the cabinet in the bathroom but found nothing. Ophelia tried his backpack, and suitcase but he had all unpacked their contents and they were both empty.

She bolted out of the room, towards the large main sitting room where she could hear the shrill screaming of Sam, and the subdued coaxing of their father.

Sam kicked his long legs into the air, wailing and cursing and screaming incoherent sentences. His father had tackled him to the floor earlier to stop him from leaving the house or hurting himself, so now they were both on the floor, his father restraining his wild movements and Florence holding on to his arms.

Ophelia dashed to her brother, and lowering herself on the floor, cradled his head on her lap. A flash of recognition crossed his features and he giggled, wrenching his hand free from Florence’s grasp and reaching up to muse Ophelia’s red dyed hair.

She caressed his cheek and asked calmly “where are your pills Sam?” making sure she kept eye contact.

His eyes were distant and glazed over, and on hearing the word ‘pills’, they darted left and right. He let out a low chuckle, which soon accelerated into a manic howl. Ophelia gestured to both her father and aunt to let him be and he laughed for a very long time, until he became exhausted.

“Where are your pills?” Ophelia repeated her question again, with his head still on her lap.

“I don’t need those anymore. I’m fine. I’ve been yelling at these people to let me go for so long. I just want to go out and meet her.” He sighed.

“Meet who?” David asked.

“The girl with the rose tattoo who is waiting for me outside.”

“There’s no girl outside with a…” Florence began sternly, but Ophelia shot her a warning look and quickly cut her off.

“I know you don’t need the pills. I just want to know where you kept them.” She urged.

Sam scoffed, and dropped his hand from her hair, looking away into the distance. “Liar” he muttered sadly. “I drowned them in the toilet. You should’ve seen them spiraling down… They looked to be having so much fun! I want to be those pills...” he sighed again.

David caught his daughter’s eye, giving her a look of helplessness. The drugs Sam had flushed were the only ones left in the house. Ophelia had reminded him to buy more and keep it with him as backup, but he had foolishly forgotten. The only thing that could calm Sam’s hyper manic episodes and outburst were the prescribed pills.

“I’m gonna go buy them.” Ophelia announced, getting on her feet and heading for her room to grab her keys and credit card.

“But it’s already past ten!” her father reminded, holding down Sam with much effort because he was kicking and demanding to be unhanded with violence again.

“Yes, which means I have almost two hours. It’s only a thirty minute drive to the nearest drugstore. I’ll make it back before midnight.” She assured with a pleading look.

“But…”       

“Dad, I have to do this. We can’t leave him like this until morning.”

“You’re not going anywhere young woman.” Florence hissed, struggling to keep both of Sam’s arms by his side.

“I’d like to see you try and stop me auntie.” Ophelia threatened, before taking off in a run up the stairs to her room, leaving an indignant and angry aunt Florence behind. She decided there wasn’t enough time to change out of her pajamas and grabbed her car keys along with her credit card and the copy of Sam’s drug prescription she always kept in her wallet.

After telling a hysteric William that everything would be fine and she would be back before he knows it, Ophelia darted out of her room, and out of the mansion.

Once outside, she turned on the car ignition and made sure she locked all doors and windows. Enabling the full headlights, Ophelia reversed out of the mansion, the tires giving a screech and digging into the soft wet earth.

An old Twenty One Pilots song blared through the radio speakers and Ophelia smashed the off button. The car fell back into silence. Her whole body buzzed with nervousness and instinctively –also because she does it habitually, reached to her neck to grab her pentagram necklace.

Her feet came down on the brakes hard, and the tires squealed as the car came to a halt. Realization dawned on her face along with a feeling of dread as she remembered that the necklace had slipped through the floorboards and into the hollow space below.