Hell (2)

I ran down the stairs like a madman.

It felt as though the sound of Mother’s ecstatic moans and Father scratching her body with a quill were chasing me from behind.

Nausea rose in my throat.

The world I knew, and even my beloved mother’s smile, had been built over a filthy cesspit.

I headed for the narrow corridor in the corner of the first floor where the servants lived.

The very last room.

Ethan’s room.

Without knocking, I kicked the door open and rushed inside.

The room was dark, but Ethan was awake, wiping something with trembling hands.

It was an old-looking iron ring...