Chapter 7 Spooky Chambers

Songs for this chapter are:

Heaven - (Goblin OST)

Stay with me - Sam Smith

B.O.M.O - Tatiana Manaois

Okay - Whatuprg ft 1k phew

Six years ago...

"Your highness, your father commands your presence in his chambers right now and asked that I come to pick you, " Mrs. Jones said with a bow as soon as she walked into my room.

I had known the woman all my life, and I grew up getting used to seeing her which made me a little familiar with her and I respected her a lot.

I always felt sorry for her and I hated my dad immensely for the things he did. I had seen my dad punish this innocent woman numerously. He had done the cruelest things to her. I watched him hang her to the high walls of the chambers once, whipping her with a fat stick till her clothes were covered in all of her blood. I had watched him attempt to rape her but I could not stop the act because I was scared for myself.

My mum came in just in time to stop him and that earned my mum a slap. My mother fell and lost her baby in a miscarriage. Her water broke.

I loathed the things my father did to everyone around me. Yes, I was only eight years old but I could see what was going on and it made my heartbreak. It made me cry a lot, terrifically.

My dad killed my mother last year for what I knew not off. He killed her right before my eyes with a broken, alcoholic bottle and warned me that he was going to do the same to me if I acted like she did but I could not understand what exactly she had done that was wrong as to warrant my dad breaking a bottle on her head.

All she had done was to come back to the castle with a few grocery bags in her hand and I wad just about to run into her widely open arms for an embrace when my dad came right in the way with an almost empty bottle in hand. My mother froze. She was scared. I was too. He asked her where she was coming from but before she could even create a few words from her numerous stutters, I'd heard a loud crash and the next thing I saw was my mother holding the side of her head where the bottle had landed on. A wince escaped her lips and she groaned pathetically until she fell to the floor and died.

Her blood was splattered on the walls and it remained that way whenever I visited that room where she died. Her blood remained there and her body? My dad left it there to decay. She meant nothing to him at all to the extent that he had left her dead body to rot. He could not even bury her. He wasted her life.

I kept going to that room dispute how sickening the stench was until I was prohibited by my dad from going there. Ever since she died, I lost myself and I could not possibly get my life back. I witnessed my dad shooting his brother in the legs as well till he became unable to walk and was cast into the icy castle for perpetual isolation.

My dad was a monster and he was disgustingly unashamed of his monstrosities. I lost everyone around me that I could lean on. I was all by myself. I never wanted to see my Dad because he was a devil.

But Mrs. Jones survived it all and the least I could do was to respect her for surviving. She was always very quiet and loved to mind her business, unlike the other workers who gossiped a lot. I could not blame those who gossiped because that was the least they could do to express their pain. I could feel Mrs. Jones's pain because it was always so evident in her eyes. It must be so heartbreaking to keep all of the anguish inside and having to go through it every single day. I wished I could help her but she scared me sometimes with the bland, harsh, and forlorn look and always wore on her face.

She had so many scars on her face so whenever she frowned as she did, it made the outlines of her scars a lot bolder which was scary. My dad gave her all of those scars though. He wanted to turn everyone into a monster.

I had tried to talk to her one day, but she interrupted me immediately with matters that had to do with the castle. She blocked me out totally from trying to be friends with her but I did not hate for her it. I could not because I had no right to. I could not blame her if it turned out to be that she even hated me.

Who would not hate me? When I had a devil for a father? It was only expected of people to transfer the hatred they had for my father to me. But I still cherished and respected Mrs. Jones, hence why I chose to call her by her name and not "servant" like my dad liked to call and wanted me to call everyone that worked for him.

I got up from my bed and placed my hands in Mrs. Jones's awaiting hands. There were so many scars on her palms as well. They were calloused and looked rotten. It told an ugly story that my father was unfortunately responsible for. She took a short bow, paying respect to me because she had no other choice.

She opened the door with her other hand and lead me out of my room. We climbed the spiral stairs directed westward in the castle. It smelled musty like no one had been there for years and there were cobwebs on the dark walls. The curtains along the paths were brown in contrast to its original white color. There was minimal light radiating through the stairway since the curtains were closed and I could hear the crumpling of an object against something. Maybe an animal? A lizard on a flanker? The sound that the movement created regardless scared the living daylights out of me. There was no sign of life here.

It was like anyone that went in here or took this direction, died a painful death because it looked so abandoned, yet so spooky.

I had never visited my father's chambers or his room before but it made me wonder why he was living in a place that was looking as abandoned and as dirty as this, yet he always ordered the slaves to scrub every other place in the castle till it was sparkling clean. We got to a particular place after mounting the stairs upwards, hence leading us to a higher floor, when I saw something that made me yell out sharply, like the sound a person would make when a needle is jutted on his butt.

But it took me minutes to realize that the sound had originated from my lips because I was momentarily frozen.

It was a skull hung on a stick that had been dug a few feet below the ground. The skull was dipped in a crimson red color instead of the organic brown or white that it normally was. It was obvious that it was someone's blood that had been poured on the skull. I wondered if it was the blood of the people he murdered in the past. Somehow, I got the feeling that it was.

I turned around and saw that Mrs. Jones was no longer standing next to me. My heart raced madly. Sweat ran done the middle of my back on my palms. I could not stay here alone because I was scared to the bone. When I looked to my left side, I saw Mrs. Jones walking down the stairs, but her steps were quick; it looked like she was running but did not want to make it too obvious. I ran after her nevertheless, walking speedily so I could match with her strides, till I luckily got a slight grip of her hand.

"What is it, your highness?" She asked, not even attempting to look at my face. She was terrified and was probably a second away from yelling.

"Why are you leaving ma'am? I thought you were supposed to follow me in there, " I asked in a pleading tone, hoping desperately that she would stay.

"And I just did that. I'm not even supposed to come this far with you. I was only meant to show you the way to the chambers so I can go my way because no one ever comes to this place but I thought you would be scared that's why I followed you up to this length. Now please let me go. Your father must not catch me here. Otherwise, my blood might be on that skull."

She yanked her hand away from mine. She looked at me now, utterly terrified with tears gathered up in her eyes that were ready to fall down her eyes any moment soon. The scar above her eyebrows had furrowed just in alignment with her actual eyebrows making it look like she mysteriously had three eyebrows instead of two and it made her look like a witch.

I was so scared, that I could feel my bladder getting full to the brim and I just was going to pee on myself anytime soon.

She ran down the stairs and was gone in a flash. Then I heard the door behind me creak open, like the cracking of a bone. I turned around and saw my dad standing by the doorway with a wry smile on his face. The skull next to the door was dripping anew with a fresh flow of blood - something I had not seen before. Did someone just die in the castle?

My body went limp but I balled my small palms into fists to stay collected and hold myself together. My mind was reeling with a thousand thoughts. A strand of my hair was stuck on my face, because of an accumulation of excess sweat flowing through.

"Come into my chambers, son." He pitted in a sultry tone, like a pussycat...

6 years later...

It was my first time leaving the castle entirely ever since I was born. That I was sure of. The farthest I had been outside of the castle was the gate that shielded the castle itself. I got to see the mountains surrounding the castle; tall trees and losses of green organisms were all I could see. No animals or neighbors. No single human being was spotted.

All my life, I lived in the middle of nowhere. I did not know anything about the outside world asides from the castle I lived in because my dad would never let me leave the castle.

He never allowed anyone to. He killed my mother when she did so. I could not even tell who was a slave and who was not in that castle because it was all the same; from the bakers to the guards, to the library keepers, even up till my father's brother and to my dad's numerous wives. No one was allowed to leave the castle. We all suffered the same thing only then it came in different ways. We all wanted freedoms but could not get it and being stuck in a place when you want to leave that place was called captivity irrespective of the kind of privileges you enjoy in that place.

We were all captives.

But today, being my fourteenth birthday, my dad had finally decided to take me out to see the outside world. It was not like we got any closer or bonded over the years. I hated my dad and would continue to and that was that. I had my plan and being able to go out of the castle was the first step I needed to take to accentuate my plan so it took me several months of begging my father to let me go out before he decided to grant my wish on my birthday today.

I could never forget that scary day, six years ago, when my dad had requested my presence in his chambers. Unlike the outer paths and stairways leading to the chambers, the chamber in itself was the cleanest part of the entire castle which I found very mysterious.

My dad walked back to his seat and sat majestically while I remained standing a little far from the door that leads me in. I bowed my head, not because I wanted to pay him respect but because I could stand looking at him in the eye. It was nightmarish.

"What do you want, son?" He asked, grunting as his voice had broken the painful silence that was existent.

I found it difficult to answer him because I had never had an upfront conversation with my dad before so I did not know what to expect at all but I knew I had to talk regardless.

"What I want? I...I want to leave this castle, father I-"

"Strike the out. Make any request asides that." He cut me off immediately in a painfully harsh tone. What else could I possibly want asides from freedom?

"I do not want anything for now," I answered, raising my head now to look at my father. I was perplexed. What did he mean by that? There was a bland, unreadable look on his face. He always wore that expression, so one would never have an idea what he would do or say next that could destroy one's life forever which was the scariest thing ever. I had seen him, sentence slaves, to death, with that look on his face.

My heart thudded loudly against my chest.

"If you want something, do not hesitate to let me know about it. I will grant all of your requests except for the request of leaving this castle. It is impossible."

Now I was finally out of that castle. We began the journey on my dad's white horse, five days before today, my birthday since we were leaving this entire surrounding to a place farther away. No, we were in the city. I could see houses, people, and animals; hens and goats, geese, and dogs roaming through the remote, underdeveloped streets. I saw vehicles of sorts. The place was buzzing with so much life, unlike the graveyard in which I stayed for fourteen years.

Then I realized how weird it was that my dad was riding a horse in a place where cars and horses were used as a means of transportation. When we set out to start the journey, my dad told me he would show me what he did when he was outside of the castle.

We got to a particular place and I saw that once the people saw my dad on the horse, riding subtly, they stopped all they were doing right away and fell on their knees to pray respect and obeisance to my Dad like he was God.

I was confused and irritated. Why were they worshipping a monster? And how did they ever get to know him in the first place? Were they worshipping him they feared him as well or they were worshipping him because they saw him as a "benevolent" person?

My dad ignored their greetings and kept riding on his horse until we got to a particular house down the street. The crowd has lessened now. Only the people who loved bed to the house we had stopped by that remained and they seemed busy with their activities to even care that a man was riding a white horse.

My dad came down from his horse only now and approached the woman who was standing close to the gate that I supposed was shielding her house. It was a bit far from where my dad had stopped his horse. I saw a small sack of money in my dad's hands.

And a welcoming smile on his face, that I had never seen before. My dad never smiles. What the hell was going on??

I could not get to figure it out because something else had snatched my attention very quickly.

I saw a little girl come out of the same gate where the woman stood. She looked seven or eight at the most. She was beautiful and had long, wooly hair, cascading down her midriff. Her skin was a bright velvet and her face looked like a plump, beautiful cherry. She somewhat looked Filipino. I was quick to figure that out for some reason.

She did not see me staring at her so I just kept looking at her until my dad was done talking to the woman, who I figured was the little girl's mother and then when he came approaching me, where I sat on the horse, I turned away quickly just before she would catch me staring at her.

Once my dad mounted the horse, and had started to gear the horse on to start riding, I forgot all of the questions I had planned on asking him, refrained all the strangest things he did ever since we came to the city and about the people who were bowing down to him. Instead, I spoke on what newly occupied my mind all along. I never thought that visiting the city just for one day would help me find something exciting very quickly.

"Dad, I think I know what I want now," I said, six years after the offer had been presented to me.

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Psalms 55:12-14 - "For it is not an enemy who reproaches me; then I could bear it. Nor is it one who hates me who has exalted himself against me; Then I could hide from him. But it was you, a man my equal, my companion and my acquaintance. We took sweet counsel together, and walked to the house of God in the throng."