#Tabitha scarlet hollow windows#

A pang of melancholy echoed in her mind, the steady stream of voices demanding that she pay attention to the work that lay ahead. 'Especially if everyone knows it, it just gets worse.' She whispers the last part as she pressed back against her nest of pillows. Your suffering doesn't end just because someone else knows about it.' Tabitha sighed and enshrouded herself in the warm covers, lights at the far corners of the room chasing away the edges of darkness creeping in on her resting place. Stop screaming, just stop crying and screaming. 'Never any goddamn rest for others, huh? Everyone would be happier if they were just quiet.

Tabitha furrowed her brow as she nestled deeper into her cocoon of weighted blankets and pillows. Even in the stillness of night, the wildlife screeched and wailed if only to make their presence known in the vast dark. She spread lights through her room, just evenly enough to make sure as much as possible was illuminated. The sharp edges of the room gave way to veiled moonlight, tendrils creeping closer and closer to the foot of her bed. It made her feel slightly less irritated about the whole thing. Tate was always pleasantly (suspiciously) easygoing, and told her to shrug it off since it happened to half the crew anyway. She remembered the time she forgot to change her clock back during daylight savings. She glanced at the simple alarm clock that blazed on the far edge of the room. Her body ached more with every muscle that allowed themselves to relax and she had no intention of staying conscious for much longer. She shrugged off the fading work jacket, simple dress shirt and rugged work shorts she wore underneath. Her mouth felt oddly dry, like the dust motes that hung suspended in the waning light of a dying 40 watt. Her shoulders untensed just enough for her hands to slide down to her sides, freeing her from the self perpetuating vice grip of uncomfortable familiarity. She made her mark from sheer persistence, and a part of her both loathed and relished it for its irony. Despite its protests, her shape had become indented in the right side. Tabitha found that she quite liked how firm the mattress had become. Her dry eyes burned with exhaustion as she shambled over to her four poster bed, well over a century old and protesting the presence of a living being in its stiff, uneven frame. She sneers, spitting out the cheap spearmint paste without rinsing. She stared at her reflection for a moment as she brushed her teeth, half expecting something to be behind her. This town, this place, this house, would be the death of her. Not now, not tomorrow, not until the day she was as dead as Pearlanne and the rest of the family that didn't much care for her beyond what remained of their tarnished legacy. She pushes her hair out of her face, turning the pearl handled faucet rinsing her face with the weak stream of cold water. The quarterly reports were due yesterday, and she showered before staying over both nights. Her hair was unwashed, she thinks it’s been two days since she’s showered. Tabitha dryly noted that the frown lines by her mouth were getting deeper, and the shadows clinging to her eyes were as persistent as ever. She relaxed slightly and ambled her way to the marble laid bathroom, flicking on the blinking fluorescent light as she placed her keys down on the dirty, soap stained countertop. No movement aside from the wind whistling through trees and dying plants. Her sharp eyes scanned the foliage, looking at the greenhouse with particular intent. She quickly turned on a ceramic lamp before glancing through the trees.

#Tabitha scarlet hollow windows#

She tensed her jaw and steeled herself as she walked towards the large double windows overlooking the garden-house and cemetery. Paintings and wallpaper with intricate weavings of ivy, reminiscent of the wild garden outside. She stared for a moment at the empty, but once magnificent master bedroom she slept in. Tabitha sighed deeply, dragging her feet past the worn in scuffs on the stained hardwood floor of her bedroom. The rest of the time we need wages.” - T.