Chapter 6:

The Mousy Runaway

She Can't Be That Perfect!!


As much as she’s used to hiding, Amy’s only ever done it in plain sight. It’s easy when your existence alerts no one, not so much when everyone is out to get you. Amy crouches under a small table, slowly moving around it as the two housekeepers pace down the hallway. She breathes a sigh of relief and stands up, tapping her forehead in hopes it’d bring back memories of her itinerary. Did she make a left at the creepy family portrait or was it a right?

In any case, she’s lost. At some point she must’ve crossed over to the other side, her muffled steps now uncharacteristically resonant. Maybe she can find the home theatre again, stay there and act like she never left in the first place. At least with the cameras turned off, there’s no way to prove otherwise. At least not until that tell-tale whirr forces her gaze to the ceiling.

Ellie has done her job. The camera slowly pivots to her location, LED on, lens focusing on her with a hateful squint. If she’d lingered any longer, it would’ve shot a laser, but Amy doesn’t give it a chance. She runs. Stealth thrown out the window because the only thing worse than being caught is being recorded. The thought of being silly passes through her head, but bounces off the mound of senseless anxiety that’s taken residence in there. If they find her, they’ll kill her. Plain and simple.

She’s a blur, whizzing by another salon, a parlour, then a kitchen. The smell of umami makes her slow down. Has she eaten? Is it lunchtime? Her stomach growls, a distraction that steals her attention for a second too many. A door opens right next to her and her hand catches on something or someone. She tries shrugging it off and continuing, but its an insistent grip that she can’t fight against. It tugs at her and Amy turns on her heels, at once losing all her momentum.

She drops to the ground in a heaving pile of pants. Before her lies a pair of white thigh highs in moccasins. A maid? What will she do with her? Scold her? Trap her in a cage to serve for dinner? She crouches down, cupping Amy’s face in a tight, mischievous hold, then tipping Amy’s chin.

“Now, who do we have here?”

Hana. She sounds curious and lenient enough to help Amy lie without stuttering.

“I’m – Wanda!” Why did I say that? “I-investigative reporter and modern-day scoundrel, here to get the latest scoop on –“ Hana snorts “– you’re not buying it, are you?”

“No, but I’m intrigued. Go on, Wanda.”

“What happens now?” Amy asks. Hana’s hand crawls up to her hair, moving along its length in sweet strokes.

“I don’t know. Not my house. How did you get in?”

Not my house. Maybe she won’t rat her out.

“The front door.”

“Wow. The security here is really lacking.”

“No, I mean – look, I don’t know if I’m supposed to tell you this, but –“

“Aww, why not? Am I special? Oh, do I have a codename? Is it White Shadow?”

“No, I’m not supposed to tell anyone! I’m not meant to be here!” Amy erupts, then deflates. Hana pats her head, a knowing grin on her lips.

“You’re fun to tease.”

“I’ve been told.”

“And sweaty.”

“I… ran?”

“And cute. What’s going on? For real, this time.”

Might as well come clean. If she’ll be thrown in The Gilded Castle’s dungeon, let it be with a clean slate. Amy takes a deep breath.

“So. Mia invited me here and I have no idea why, but I accepted anyway because duh? She’s Miss Astella and beautiful and rich and popular but she’s also nervous and vulnerable and innocent and, well… I feel for that! I am that! And I was meant to stay in the home theatre while she attended to Sean but she looked super sad when she left so I followed her then she owned your boss and she was happy, then she was sad again when she realised all her plans fell through because no one was meant to know she invited a weird, pathetic, good for nothing girl to her house on a whim because she heard her self-deprecating and confessing a bunch of weird stuff about how she’s depressed and alone and unworthy and and and –“

Hana jumps her. A wet sensation hits her cheek, the maid’s lips firmly pressed against her skin, biting without teeth. Amy’s mind slowly empties. Trembling, she gazes down, catching Hana’s innocuous features eclipsed by a fierce, unyielding drive. After a confusing eternity that leaves Amy a flustered mess, Hana retreats, wiping her mouth on her shirt sleeve.

“W-what was that?” Amy mumbles in disbelief.

“A nom.”

“A nom?”

“A nom.”

“What’s a nom?”

Hana gets up and fixes her ruffled skirt, “You taste sweet, but you were just about to turn sour. The nom stops that.”

“It does stop that…” Amy muses, rubbing the moist spot on her cheek.

“Besides,” Hana continues, “I figured we didn’t have much time together. I wanted to give you something to remember before – Ellie!”

A string grip on her collar yanks Amy to her feet. With a yelp, she goes limp like a possum, bracing herself for impact. Her back hits the wall and her closed eyes fling open, meeting Ellie’s executioner grimace. She looks unleashed, her chest a low rumble, her teeth grinding like fangs, her hair a deranged mane.

“You…” she rasps, “you miserable fucking bitch!”

The words pass through Amy’s head, their effect instantaneous. She melts in a dejected puddle.

“I know I messed up, but you don’t have to be so mean…”

The beast isn’t soothed. If anything, Amy feels like Ellie wants to rip her arms out their sockets and the only thing keeping her from doing that is Hana’s presence. Not that she’d do anything, her satisfied smile indicates that she’s here to enjoy the show, not intervene. Unless Ellie tries killing Amy, but that case is still a soft maybe.

“Look, I’m sorry,” Amy mutters. “I was dumb. I am dumb. You can just throw me out to the sharks in your basement. I don’t have much meant on my bones, but I’ll try squirming to give them a good run for their –“

“Do you ever stop talking?” Ellie covers Amy’s mouth, only to retreat her hand in disgust. “Did you just lick me?”

“My lips were dry!”

“Dog!”

“I am, I’m a bitch!”

“You are!”

“Isn’t that redundant, then?”

“Shut up!” Ellie punches the wall, the shockwave travelling up to the chandeliers, sending them in a violent fit. Calming, she shakes the paint chippings off her knuckles and finally lets Amy go. She falls a small distance to the floor, confirming why she’s felt weightless all this time.

With a furious huff, the little girl pulls out her phone, types a short message and waits. The reply arrives swiftly and is met with a scoff.

“Follow me,” Ellie orders. “Quietly.”

“Okay!” Amy shrieks, then covers her mouth. “Okay,” she whispers. “Where are we going?”

“To Mia’s room.”

“What? Why?”

“Because I follow orders regardless of how I feel about them. Now move along.”

Ellie stomps down the corridor, the lingering threat in her tone enough for Amy to suspect she will not hesitate to leave her behind. Still, the little girl is her best bet out of this hiccough. Besides, she’s tiny. Her hostility is somewhat endearing as if it’s just for show. Deep down, Ellie might like her. Amy catches up to her with Hana trailing right behind.

“And how do you feel about your orders?”

“Teetering between berserk and nauseated.”

“Ouch. How come?”

Ellie balls her fists. A deep breath is all it stands between her and murder.

“I’ll be frank, Amélie. I hate you. At this moment, the only thing I hate more than you is that you’re here.”

“Would you like me… in a different setting?”

“Sure! Picture yourself going down the Amazon, malaria close to settling in and crocodiles circling your flimsy raft.”

“That’s… specific.”

“I’ve had plenty of time to think about it.”

Suddenly, Ellie takes a sharp turn, stopping before a large cabinet. Effortlessly, she pushes it out of the way, then runs her hand on the unblemished surface on the wall, until she finds a little give. A forceful knock reveals the outline of a door that leads into a storage closet repurposed into a bedroom. A small mattress and bedsheets rest in the far corner, while scraps of clothes litter the floor.

Is this where she sleeps? No, even servants deserve more than this. Even so, Ellie navigates the crammed interior with a sense of familiarity. She kicks the mattress to the side, then pulls out a wooden panel from behind it. Without a word, she drops to all fours and proceeds through the narrow crawlspace. Amy and Hana share a quiet set of glances.

Do you know what’s going on? Amy shakes her head.

I know as much as you do, Hana shrugs, then grins.

But you’re liking it more than you should!

They follow the little girl, Amy for the first time cursing her height, short as it might be. When they reach the end, Ellie awaits them in a small enclosure, filled with old pipes and the smell of rust. A metal ladder stretches towards a faraway ceiling. With a leer, Ellie starts climbing, the expectation being that Amy will be behind her and won’t stumble.

She puts one hand on the metal, the cold and texture biting at her wrist. When she puts her foot, the step bends. It taunts her with danger, but all it does is taunt with wobbles and creaks. The stress and fear open the door to more intrusive thoughts in which Amy finds a strange comfort. This is where she belongs, cast away from The Gilded Castle to writhe in a suffocating shaft. Entertaining the idea that Mia wants her around still feels like a joke, yet another in a series of many cruel ones that have long felt like her birth right.

“Am I really that bad?” she mewls. The pipes capture her words and play it back in twisted echoes, until her question becomes a clear, unambiguous statement. A lock clicks overhead, then light blinds Amy for a second. When her eyes adjust, she finds Ellie’s hand shoved in her face.

“You’re not,” she sighs, grabbing Amy and helping her up. “But I’m not the judge of that.”

Warmth freckles her face. She was right. Ellie does like her, even just a bit. When Hana’s out of the hole, Ellie closes the hatch, then pushes the floor tiles back in place. Her work is seamless. If forced to return here, Amy wouldn’t be able to find the shaft entrance. Probably for the better. The upper floor makes her want to flee.

The same luxury surrounds her, only more aggressive and opulent, the subtle gold accents now almost omnipresent. It’s – sad. Desolate, a vacant wealth filling space with objects instead of feelings. To think this is where Mia lives puts Amy ill-at-ease. But at the same time, she shares this space with her father.

At the end of the hallway lies a door, an indomitable slab of ebony with the same two lions guarding it. An office? Living quarters? Both? The only thing Amy can say for sure is that Edward Astella is inside. The intimidating aura is all the evidence she needs. Good thing they pass right by her, keeping a safe distance.

“Amy?” Ellie mutters.

“Yes?”

“I’m… I’m sorry.”

The words rake her throat. Either she’s never said them or they’ve left scars from overuse.

“It’s okay. I’m pretty sure I gave you quite a scare. You’re fine.”

“Right… can I tell you something?”

“Do you even need to ask?”

“A servant always does,” Hana interjects, resting her head between Ellie’s buns. With her whole weight pressing on her, Ellie remains unfazed.

“I’m... scared of you,” Ellie mumbles.

Amy can’t help a chuckle, “Scared? Girl, how much do you lift? You could grind me to a fine powder if you wanted.”

“And I’d rather not have to do it.”

They arrive before a white door, immaculate save for the ruby tendrils carving a red X, corners to centre. Like a magical lock, with keys available only to a select few. Eline drums a cryptic rhythm on it, three swift knocks, followed by a harder one after a pause.

“I love Mia,” Ellie says, quiet as if she’s afraid to speak. “I just want to protect her and make her happy just like she did for me for more than she should’ve. Hurt her in any way and I will make you regret it,” she rasps.”

“I thought you were scared of me,” Amy gives a brittle chuckle.

“Because you might replace me. I’m scared what will become of me after that.”

Hana growls, ready to say something before Mia emerges from her room. Three different looks leave her eyes, relief for Amy, appreciation for Ellie and a frigid dagger for Hana.

“What are you doing here?” she spits at the maid.

Hana grins, “What I can do.” She clasps Amy’s arm. “Fishing for runaways. Caught me a 45 kilo Frenchie.”

“47,” Amy corrects.

“Huh.”

“Right, why don’t you do that elsewhere?” Mia retorts. She turns to Ellie, “Cameras?”

“They caught her, but I was there when it happened. I’ve replaced the footage right away. He couldn’t have seen a thing.”

“And on the way back?”

“Northwest passage.”

“Smart girl,” Mia gives Ellie a caress. Is she purring? “Thanks. I’ll take it from here. Please, go rest and –“

“Give us some space,” Hana mocks in Mia’s voice.

“– give her something to do as far away as possible.”

“Oh, lighten up, Star,” Hana chuckles, grabbing Ellie’s hand and walking away. “I’m only here to help. Tell you what, I’ll plan you an escape route.”

“I already have one. I don’t need your help,” Mia chides.

“Right. But I’m sure Amy wouldn’t mind a bit of extra security. Cheerio or whatever!”

With an unenthused wave, Hana finds the entrance to the stairwell and drags Ellie down with her. Mia sends her a leer for good company, then shakes her head off any ill will. Left alone with Amy, she’s all smiles, but not all sweet.

“So… ummm… want to come in?” she says

There’s a lot of hope in that ask and for good reason. Amy would love nothing more, but before she can accept, she must be sure of one thing.

“Do you want to answer a bunch of personal, possibly very embarrassing and depressing questions?”

“May – be?”

“Then maybe I’ll come in,” Amy teases.

With an exuberant gesture, Mia steps out of the way and beckons her in. Happy to see her so sure of herself, Amy concedes and enters the room, confident that turning her ‘maybe’ into a ‘yes’ will do the same for Mia.