fear ( John)

We made our way towards the basement of the hotel, my companion leading the way. Each step I took echoed in my ears as we hurried along. Eventually, we arrived at the door. With a determined hand, I turned the handle and pushed it open, revealing a sight that sent a chill down my spine.

As I opened the door, a chilling scene unfolded before me. The basement, cold and musty, stretched out before us. It was a wide space, but the room held only a solitary chair and table. And there, bound to the chair, sat the young woman, with her striking orange hair and captivating brown eyes, was tightly bound to a chair.

Her pale complexion accentuated the fear evident in her expression.She appeared smaller in stature compared to Elenore. Despite her attempts to scream, her voice was muffled by the gag that had been placed over her mouth, leaving only a faint whining sound escaping through her trembling lips.

I approached her with measured steps, each one echoing the weight of the moment, intensifying the already thick air of tension. Her eyes, wide with fear, locked onto mine,I closed the gap between us, purpose and intent guiding my every movement.Delicately, I withdrew a gleaming pocket knife from my pocket. With a steady hand, I raised the knife, its sharpness evident. Her breath hitched, caught in her throat, as fear settled over her like a suffocating blanket.

She remained utterly silent, her body frozen in place. A ghostly pallor washed over her, transforming her complexion as white as freshly fallen snow. Every ounce of her being radiated fear in response to my presence, a testament to the success of my unsettling impact.

I approached her cautiously, my grip tightening around her mouth. "If you make a sound, I assure you, it will be your last," I whispered, my voice laced with a menacing edge. Tears streamed down her face as she pleaded with me, her words trembling with fear. "I swear, I am innocent. My Lord, please believe me, pleeease. İ did not do anything"

I studied her closely, my gaze piercing through her trembling form. "We have not even begun, little peasant. So Listen carefully," I said, my voice low and threatening. She nodded, her fear evident in every fiber of her being. In this dimly lit basement, it was just the two of us, enveloped in an atmosphere thick with trepidation. Even I could not deny the weight of unease settling upon me.

"Let's give you a question ? Let's Begin Why does Elenore believe she is only fifteen? Begin." I questioned, searching her eyes for any hint of truth. She stared back at me, her face etched with terror. "I do not know, my Lord," she stammered, her voice was shaking.

She seemed to anticipate a different line of questioning, but I pressed on, determined to uncover the truth. " What is your name?" I whispered, my voice laced with an undercurrent of authority. Her response was barely audible, a mere whisper escaping her trembling lips. "Meg, my Lord."

Undeterred, I probed further, my gaze unwavering. "Why Meg? You are her maid? How?" She froze, her eyes avoiding mine as she muttered, "I do not know, my Lord. This is the first time I'm hearing it."

Her answer only deepened the mystery. "Why, Meg? Why don't i believe you?" I stared at her intently, searching for any flicker of truth. Her voice quivered as she replied, "I do not know, my Lord," tears streaming down her face.

My gaze intensified, fixated upon her. "Second question, Did you poison her, Meg?" I confronted her directly. In an instant, her demeanor changed, a shift in her character. "No, my Lord, never! I was the one who warned you about the danger to Lady Elenore. She loved me dearly. I would never harm her. I am grieving her loss. I would never, never kill her. Please, my Lord, believe me."

But as her words spilled forth, I sensed the deception woven within them. The only truth that resonated was Elenore's fondness for Meg.

"Who informed you of her demise?" I asked, my gaze fixed upon her. Slowly, she turned to face me, her eyes meeting mine. "I heard that she was poisoned," she replied, her voice filled with a mix of trepidation and uncertainty.

"And who was the source of this information?" I pressed further, seeking to unravel the threads of truth. Her expression shifted, as if grappling with her response. "I... I heard it from someone, my Lord," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper.

As I observed her closely, doubts began to cloud my judgment. There was a complexity to the situation, a web of secrets and half-truths that veiled the truth. It was clear that Meg held more knowledge than she was willing to divulge.

"Who is this 'someone,' Meg?" I inquired, my tone demanding an answer. Meg's eyes darted nervously, and she replied, "I do not know, my Lord. I overheard people talking." She was clearly lieying there is no one but us in this hotel

"Why did you run, Meg?" I pressed, determined to uncover the truth. She muttered, "I did not run," her voice barely audible.

"But why don't I find you believable, Meg?" I questioned, my voice tinged with a mix of frustration and suspicion. Her response was swift and desperate, "I swear, my Lord, I did not kill her."

I let out a sigh, realizing that my doubts about Meg's involvement in Elenore's demise were justified. "I know, Meg. I know you did not kill Elenore. But you poisoned her," I whispered into her ear. An array of conflicting emotions flickered across Meg's face—happiness mingled with sorrow.

Meg's voice trembled with a glimmer of hope as she uttered, "My Lord, she didn't die. " Leaning closer, my voice barely audible, I whispered into her ear, "yes you are right she didn't die Meg. So how do you know this?"