Page 26 of Crown of Thorns
Maybe it’s fitting.
After what happened in this office—afterhim—the air still feels heavy. Like the walls haven’t forgotten.
Like I haven’t.
This time, I came prepared, gripping the light bulb like a talisman against fear. I don’t want the castle to scare me, because that’s exactly what it has done over the past days. Memories of masks, cloaks, and flickering lights have haunted my nights. Which, in turn, has been screwing up my daytime, leaving me feeling grumpy and tired during times I need to be sharp. Thankfully, the Christmas break is just around the corner, and I’ll get some time off.
And I’ll get to spend some time with Melody. Being with her feels like reclaiming a lost piece of myself. She’s still chaotic magic: wild, inventive, unapologetically her. Ripped pants, paperclip stitches, curls tamed with the same clips. Clay streaks her cheeks like war paint, and her green eyes—Dad’s eyes—lightup when she sees me. She’s messy and fearless, still the little girl who adored her big brother. The one who never understood why I left.
We haven’t discussed that part yet. It’s too raw. Too fresh. Honestly, I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready to open up. Perhaps that’s just notme. Letting people in emotionally, it’s a scary thought.
“Hello?” I ask the empty corridor, as if I really expect someone to jump out of the wall and salute me.
It’s time to kill my nightmare before it slithers away through my defences. Aside from the light bulb, I brought a flashlight and my usual pocket knife. If the streets have taught me anything, it’s to always stay safe. To always be prepared for trouble, whenever and wherever it shows up.
Always sharp. That’s what I used to be. This place is making me careless, andthatis where true danger lies.
I glare at the crow in the painting. My skin prickles with awareness when the light dims. It’s a short flicker, bathing me mostly in darkness, and when it comes back on, I’m still staring right at the silver and black eyes of the bird. It's glaring right at me, but it’s like it has moved. I blink in shock.
My fingertips skim the jagged paint, confirming my suspicions. This part of the wall isn’t solid. Pressing both hands on the painting, I push as hard as I can. There’s a soft click and then the painting slides aside, revealing a black hole and stairs that lead me straight into my nightmares.
I look down, my heart rate skyrocketing. Fear grips me like a tight glove, brain scrambling to catch up. After all, this doesn’t need to mean anything. Castles were made to hide secrets. Right?
My thoughts tumble back to Louis. Louis, who’s never been away from my mind, ever since he let me lose control so savagely in my office.
He hasn’t mentioned our deal again, nor has he respected my terms. And yet, I’m not sure if I want him to. His defiance needles something buried inside me. Something that feels like desire tangled with danger. Instead, he’s been adding books to my collection, texts me every hour, and has been leaving me coffee and breakfast on my desk every morning.
He still attends my classes, despite my request for him to stay away. But when I checked my dorm, everything seemed to be in order. Aside from my cum-stained sheets.
Hiscum.
I turn my focus back on the black void that glares back at me. Is this what he meant when he spoke of dark secrets? Is it down under, in the basement, where those business deals are signed?
Perhaps I’m taking this way too seriously. He’s a kid, playing around. He even admitted it. And this…is just a way down to the basement.
Nothing more.
There never was a man with a mask; it was all in my head.
Nothing more.
When I don’t move for a few minutes, the door automatically slides closed again. I let out a sigh, relieved that I’m being dragged back to reality.
Switching off the light, I quickly replace the faltering lightbulb with the new one. There. Light. No more horror corridors. I glare at the crow. There. The light switches back on.
No more flickering.
But when I turn around and walk back to my office, I can’t help but feel someone’s staring at me, following my every movement. It makes me walk a little faster.
Just before I turn the corner, I think I hear something. A shuffle, a low hum, maybe Latin. But when I whirl around, no one’s there. Just the corridor, empty and too quiet.
Ibegin the holiday season with a short walk to the Christmas market. Before, I used to love this time of year. It meant Dad was home, and that we got to spend time together as a family. After, I hated it, the festive glitters screaming at me, mocking me for all I’d lost. The volunteers working the shelters gave it their best to make the place look cosy, but it never lost this stench of desperation, of despair. That nobody could get rid of.
Saint-Laurent’s medieval heart pulses with festive life. Cobblestones slick with melted snow, the scent of roasted chestnuts and cinnamon thick in the air, laughter and brass bells mingling in a timeless echo.
Making my way through the main street and looking at the shop windows, my phone buzzes. Once, twice, ...
Little Devil: Tell me you haven’t left campus yet
