>They peer over the edge of the railing of the cascading staircase, standing at the top of its winding steps. Their hands found the dark wooden surface, keeping themselves upright as they lifted a singular foot off of the floor. Below, they could see the light from the giant dining room peeking out from where the ceiling covered the source, barely crawling up the walls and the spiral staircase that led to it.
>They had come from the hall. They've been spending a lot of time walking down it in tense steps, the footsteps of their 'other' following besides them—towering over them, despite their 'other' being the one who made them exist in some strange but fascinating way. It was punishment, their 'other' had said. They still didn't understand what they were being punished for.
>They stepped away from the railing, hand lifted in the air in hesitation before it was lowered to meet their side.
>Despite the hall to their left being quite long and made to be walked down, it was adorned with posters and paintings alike—and a pair of double-doors, closest to them and the staircase. It was odd; why add a hallway if it doesn't lead to the rest of the upstairs?
>They stared at the double-doors' carvings of swirls and lines, stained with one of the most crisp oil they had ever seen throughout the manor they called 'home'. It had rarely been touched, they concluded, taking careful steps as their fingers twitched.
>They were going to do this, they repeated.
>Their hands gripped the golden handles of the doors, twisting and pulling the twin doors open.
>The new opening revealed a dimly lit hall that barely seemed lively; a singular window—although large—covered with thin, black curtains that were almost see-through struck through the wall on the left. What stood out to them the most, however, was the barely noticeable door to the right near the back of the hallway.
>They stepped inside, leaving the twin doors open just a tad as their hands slipped from the metal knobs. Their small steps turned into eager strides, breath appearing in small gasps as the door became ever-so closer. The floor creaked as they found themselves in front of the door they never thought they'd make it to.
>They found their hand on another doorknob, pushing against the cold wood of the door as it opened with a light scrape against the—still—wood tiles.
>Had it always been this easy?
>The room's ceiling was lower than the typical, though still made with the same material as any other. The only thing that made it interesting was the ropes hung from the low ceiling, clipping down through the so-called floor and what could be assumed to be a room on a lower floor.
>They stepped inside, the door behind them left swinging open loosely. They trailed their shadow for a moment, observing the lack of light supplied in this attic place.
>As they brought their eyes back up, the weight in their jacket's pocket felt even more looming than before.
>They stepped forward—once then twice—walking towards one of the spaced out wires in the almost 'N' or 'Z' pattern across the room, the copper lining shining in a yellow tint. One of their hands subconsciously reached up into their pocket, pulling out a small blade held by a wobbly plastic handle as they neared.
>The blade was positioned against the wire, and they breathed a shaky inhale. They blinked as they registered their legs quivering for just a moment, regaining their bearings as their eyes narrowed.
>The wire was thin and surprisingly brittle. Metal clattered against floor as screams echoed below them, footsteps getting muffled by the yelps and cries.
>They were in the hall in an instant, adrenaline-filled body shaking as they pushed and shoved against the singular window illuminating the bare space. They punched. The tore. They crashed against it until the glass shattered and tore through only the unlucky parts of their arms.
>They barreled out of the now broken window, finding themselves barely standing up straight on the uneven shingles of the manor's rooftop. They scurried down, heart pounding as they toppled off the edge and landed on some sort of balcony, quickly dropping off of the edge of that too.
>Their feet hit the ground—the drops never had been that high—as they dropped down to their knees momentarily. Brief pain spiked through their ankle as they looked back at the manor's lights cascading against the darkness of the night, seeing that no shadow as against any of the windows in the dining room. So they stood, booking it into the forest that surrounded that godforsaken place as they ignored the pain in their foot.
>They ran, ignoring the knawing feeling that something was watching them.
