The Criswell's Curse

An audible gasp haunted the garden and her fiancé’s eyes widened seconds before the Wharton’s dogs came barking, running as quickly as possible. Ophelia’s arms rose, admitting defeat, completely unable to escape the grasp of her assaulter.

Amanda’s hand held a sharp knife against the side of her sister’s neck, threatening to cut its pale flesh in a single, sadistic movement. The girl’s resolve was firm but so was the faint hint of moral lingering in her soul, causing the frail strength left in her to tremble. Sweat poured from her pores as the maiden’s lungs craved for air, feeling as if someone was stealing it for her own demise.

Bradley’s expression turned bitter, feeling a hatred he couldn’t begin to put into words. He had been careless, not taking care of the trash when he could and now such disgusting creature dared to try tainting Ophelia’s life. His body could sense it, the burning flames consuming his soul as an unknown fear grew – the thought of losing her passing through his eyes far too rapidly, far too realistically.

With his heart on his throat, veins attempting to pop from tension, his hands slightly trembled, hoping his words weren’t in vain. “Amanda…”

“Lady Amanda... please put down the knife...” Mace attempted to meddle in, trying to appeal to the girl’s sense of self, but it was too late. Her eyes only faced her fiancé whose figure was far too stiff, far too fearful to think straight.

Impatient, Terrel dashed, just to be grabbed by his brother. “Let me go! That’s my fiancée!”

“And if you move, she will die! Do you want to be a widower without even being married, brother!?”

Frustrated but knowing his sibling was right, Terrel shoved his grip away, calming down his nerves. Everyone’s emotions were on edge, lungs softly sobbing for air, veins popping with adrenaline, all eager to know what would happen next.

Amanda knew everything was over for her, all she’d ever worked for had been thrown away, stolen by her own sister. If Ophelia were to die, what would she truly lose? No one in this party actually liked her – none even attempted to hide their judgmental gazes, their wide, amused grins, their inner thoughts stamped all over their faces.

Yes, her fiancé was in love with another woman. Yet, she foolishly yearned for him, as he’d been the only one, she’d ever loved. If he commanded, Amanda would kiss the floor he stood, losing all her pride, commit even treason with just a handful of words. How had her life turned into such tragedy?

“What are you doing, Amanda!?” Duke Criswell intervened, grabbing the girl by her shoulder. She immediately shoved him off, pressing the knife further into her sister’s neck. “Have you no shame!?”

Feeling the sharpness sink further into her skin, Ophelia frowned. Bradley gulped, unsure of what route to take, heart pounding out of his chest.

“Amanda... dear...” His voice was sweet, yet his acting was terrible. His concern wasn’t aimed at the abuser, instead, it focused on the victim and even the most foolish human could see it. “Don’t do that... let go...”

“Shut up! You don’t mean anything you say, Bradley! You are a liar!” Amanda yelled, tears beginning to drip from her dark blue eyes.

“We can go to the capital, darling... to that shop you love so much... you just need to drop the knife...”

Amanda’s trembling increased, her strength weakened, and Ophelia felt it. Of course, her stupid sister didn’t possess what it took to finish the job - she completed nothing, any chore she was given she’d always fail, like a broken being. She was a mess, an incomplete mess.

Trying to find some sort of hope, Bradley looked at Ophelia. His body shuddered with the sight in front of him.

The sharp knife was pointed at her neck, close to her veins, close to her death; yet she didn’t flinch. Her eyes were driven by a strange sense of determination, harboring an unknown glimmer - one might dare to say they appeared delighted. Her lips curled up, psychotically pleased.

He’d never seen this side of her. It was new, dark, addicting - like a drug that one can only dream of obtaining. But he wasn’t alone. Everyone else possessed the same thoughts, the same desires, the same curiosity towards such strange development.

“My dear sister...” Ophelia’s voice rung through the space, sweet and alluring. Like a siren, preparing for another’s demise.

“Shut up! I will kill you!” Amanda’s voice cracked from the agglomeration of nerves. Bit by bit, her heart became purer, her mind returning to its sanity, her killing intent wavering.

The raven girl’s lips grinned. Bradley gulped, with a strange desire forming within. Was the being in front of him truly human? Or a demon from Blasphemy, ruled by bloodlust?

“Do you know what happens when you kill a curse?”

“I said, shut up!” Amanda was truly weak, not being able to follow through on her empty threats.

“But... do you know...” Ophelia’s left hand grabbed her sister’s, forcing the knife to sink deeper into her skin. Small drops of blood slowly dripped out, covering the blade, tainting the dress. “Amanda?”

Seeing the viscous substance leave her sister’s body, reality finally struck. She was truly murdering her sister, in broad daylight - just like she had dreamed; just like she had hoped. Yet all she truly wanted was to leave, as fear crawled on her spine, knowing full well her bones weren’t the ones of a killer. She’d never be able to live with the guilt that followed.

Holly and Patricia stood by the sidelines, watching the scenario unfold, horrified.

How is this a woman we’re supposed to use!? Was the question roaming wild in their minds as their plans slowly deteriorated into nothingness.

“Stop! I don’t want this!” Amanda yelled, trying to escape her sister’s grasp. “Ophelia! Let go!”

“Wrong answer!” In a single movement, the cursed girl turned around, facing her sister. Both their hands still holding the knife tightly, penetrating the blade further into Ophelia’s body, causing a small river of blood to pour out.

“I don’t know! Please! Let go!” Her sapphire eyes harbored many tears who threatened to leave at a moment’s notice, struggling to keep their composure as her members trembled horrified. Amanda was being taken hostage by terror, not understanding how the situation had turned into this.

Even regretting her actions, the crimson haired girl had placed a knife against her sister’s throat in a public setting, with far too many witnesses. Surely this would be considered attempted murder and then she would…

“In that case, my dear sister...” Ophelia approached, chuckling loudly, almost as if feeling the sharp pain in her neck was exhilarating. “Should we find out?”

“No...!” Amanda yelled as her vision became blurred by the overwhelming tears who had finally managed to escape their captors. “No...! No!”

“Who is the actual monster here, Amanda...? The cursed one? Or her murderer!?”

At these words, Amanda’s mind broke, causing her to fall straight onto the dirt ground, staining her bright red dress with pieces of the green grass. She had passed out.

“How unsightly.” Ophelia mumbled, letting go of her hand. Her eyes were bored, as if her most precious toy had become lost in oblivion. And the knife tainted with blood, fell.

Everyone was quiet. No one uttered a word. Bradley, Terrel, Mace, Alvin and Catherine only watched her, speechless. What had they just witnessed? Was it the truth? The harsh reality of her twisted personality? Or just a mirage; a vision between the real and imaginary?

“My dear guests, I organized this event for a single reason...” Ophelia broke the silence after approaching the Duke’s table. Her hands grabbed a light porcelain cup, resting at the edge of the wood. Swiftly, she poured some tea from the one pot Alvin couldn’t stop glaring at. “At Lady Catherine’s ball, someone drugged me. I am afraid to say the culprit is here with us.”

Hearing such a pitiful justification made Catherine grin. She knew everything that happened in her parties, and in high society and of course, she knew the girl’s words were but lies since her frail figure hadn’t consumed anything that night. Even so, everyone actually believed her words, causing buzz to flow through the air at a rapid pace, and people gossiped, sending guesses to whom could’ve done such cruel act. The Black Rose was indeed an interesting girl.

Earl Hillgarden put down his cup, causing a loud sound to echo through the trees. “How do you know that?”

Certainly, at least one person needed to question her reasoning, and it was only natural for someone as smart as the Earl to pick up on her plan and embrace it to the fullest. It seemed she had made her first noble ally with a simple display of power.

“I know because...” Ophelia smirked. “... they filled my tea with poison.”

And before anyone could stop her, she placed the cup on her lips and drank the contents in one gulp.