Velvet Rouge

She began to slowly open her eyes as she woke up by the sound of dripping water. The air was heavy and fetid, carrying with it the smell of damp wood, along with rot and humidity. After a few seconds, she became fully awake, being able to then grasp reality again.

Her skin, now battered and bruised, was of a gorgeous porcelaine accompanied by rose highlights that made it come to life. She had black amber hair that flowed down to just below her armpits, creating waves that would catch your eye in a second. Her face was thin and delicate, and her eyes were dark brown, although in them, there were traces of honey highlights; which, along with her thick eyebrows, brought her blushing cheeks to life. Just as her face, her nose was also thin and elegant, a quality that got even more highlighted by her thick, pink lips that glistened even in the dark. She was known by many names, but only one was given to her at birth. That name was Yamiley.

Her eyes widened and gave out a wild look through her feline eyes. Sweat started gliding through her skin like small streams of water, carrying with it dirt and blood. She gave out a muffled scream, which didn’t make it past her own mind, as she had been gagged. Her once white skin started becoming a feverish red, so red that it could burn to the touch. She tried to move, but her hands were tied by a rouge velvet scarf which kept her hands wrapped around a thick wooden pillar.

Where the hell was she?

It took her well over a minute to calm down from the initial shock, which stopped her from thinking properly. She started to breathe deeply as she got a grasp of herself until she was finally able to stop shaking. After the aftermath was settled, she started glancing around the dark room, looking for something to use to get her hands loose. She devised a wooden staircase that led upwards and behind it, there was light. However, no tools were to be seen anywhere near.

Yamiley slowly made her way to her feet while she was still tied up. She started pushing off the pillar with her right leg, attempting to free herself from the restraints. With every failed attempt, the sound of the dripping water from the pipe intensified, mixing in with the sound of her sweat gliding off her face, onto the floor. She tried and tried for over 10 minutes with no avail until she gave up, and slid back down to the floor, tired and defeated.

Another 15 unending minutes passed when an idea came to Yamiley’s mind. She struggled to get back on her feet, but once she did, she started to push off to break free. This time however, she was also thrusting her arms up and down in a sawing motion, causing the scarf to weaken. She persisted on this for what felt like an eternity, and as exhaustion was crawling towards her, the rag suddenly snapped, throwing her forward and making her fall face-first on the cold concrete.

She was still stunned from the impact that her face made with the floor, but she managed to recover quickly. Light headed and disoriented, Yamiley started towards the staircase which was only about 25 feet away, but just before she could take the first step up, her attention diverted to the light that came from behind the stairs. Curiosity took over and, before she could realise it, she was walking towards the mysterious light.

She arrived at the source of the light, where she discovered an old wooden door. She tried for the doorknob, which turned with ease, and started to push the door causing a heartbreaking screech. She tensed up for an instant and waited for a few seconds. After she felt safe, she proceeded to enter the room. The room was completely white, with a small sink in the middle of the room and a vanity mirror set on top of it. Yamiley approached the sink hesitantly and tried for the tap. After some struggling, the tap managed to release some water after a few seconds, allowing Yamiley to clean herself.

She took a look at the mirror and saw herself with her face cut and bruised and her hair messy like the bristles of a worn out broom. She then bent over and started to rub her face with cold water, making her feel just a little bit better. After she got done with washing her face, she dried up her face with her blouse, although there was something about it that unsettled Yamiley for a second. She had been wearing an all-whit t-shirt, but now she was wearing a red blouse that went down just below the knees. Surprised, she lifted her head and was met by someone who was her, but not the same person.

Her face looked young, around 15, and she was wearing a red lipstick that matched with the long robe she wore. Her hair had been done and she was wearing something metallic on it. She reached for it and pulled out a metallic pin with a mockingbird on the end. Suddenly, Yamiley burst into tears as she got transported to a place she never wanted to go back to again, she closed her eyes.

It was incredibly hot and sunny and Yamiley’s eyes struggled to adjust to the lighting. After a little bit, she was able to see properly again and she was met by the sight of a large field of grass with fences in the distance. She looked to the right and saw a woman tending her clothes on a rope that was held up by two othe poles. In the background, there were mountains and, where the sky met the earth, she could see how the blinds of the evening were being run.

She looked down and saw her dog, Attila, sitting at her feet as he too was lost at the sight of the mountains. Yamiley knew this place as the back of her hand. It was her old home in Montana, where she, her mom Famara and Attila lived alone during her youth. Tears of joy silently started marching down Tamiley’s cheeks as she jogged towards her mother.

She was old, around 60 years old, and she was really weak. She had her hair tied up in a bun which was held by a pin with a mockingbird at the end. She slowly turned around to greet her daughter, but as she did, Yamiley started to realize something. Famara’s eyes were black and empty, and her nails were long and clawed, her skin was rough, making a leathery sound as she moved her arms to embrace her child. Yamiley stopped for a second in hesitation and, before she could do anything, an image flashed in her head for a split second, but she knew exactly what it was.

There were flames, and the smell of carbon and ash was overpowering. The air was really heavy and hot, making breathing an exhausting task. She found herself trapped under a small wooden panel which she managed to lift with ease. She stood up, but her leg had been hurt with the fall of the plank so she wasn’t able to run when she saw her mom, hanging from a rope, directly in front of her.

She limped towards her and tried to cut the noose that held her mother, but she wasn’t able to do it. Suddenly, she heard a loud crack and, as she cocked her head upwards, a huge wooden log was plummeting onto her. Instants before the wood made an impact, Yamiley snapped back, sweating.

She was back in the basement, but she was not in a completely white room anymore, and her white t-shirt was still with her. The room was now dark, but it was furnished with a small cabinet. She opened it and found a pin. She picked it up and stumbled two steps backwards when she saw the mockingbird that decorated it. Anxious and scared, she sprinted for the staircase, with the pin in her hand, and once she reached the foot of the stars, she began to climb them frantically, although the door never seemed to get any closer. As she was reaching for the door knob, the door suddenly flew open, revealing a dark silhouette of a man that overcast Yamiley. She was not able to see the man’s face, but she did see his smile. A dirty grin that perspired pure evil, half hidden behind a red scarf.

She shot up as the image of that man perverted her mind. She started swivelling her head around the room, looking for that silhouette, but it was just her room. She got out of bed and walked towards a mirror that she had in the far back corner of her room, right on top of a white dresser, and stared into it deeply. Then, as she was turning around, her reflection smiled as it pulled a hair pin into the mirror frame. She froze as the image of that sinister man came to her mind again. The smile she catched from the corner of her eye was the exact same smile that she had seen in that man’s face (if it can be called man). She stepped back until she was met by her bed, on which she then fell. She laid in silence on her back as flashbacks of Famara came to her mind. Then the fire, and then, the man.

She began to sob silently until finally she fell asleep, unknowing of the creature that spied on her from the crack of the wardrobe. A creature that vested nothing but a blanket of black and a grin, hidden behind a velvet scarf of rouge.