★ Emma ~ 1x03 The Poet's fuoco ☆

After Dale’s disastrous attempt at a proposal, Deb returned to her room. She had made a huge mistake, she realized that much. But she couldn’t force herself to live a lie like that. She had to get out of this place, but now was not a good time.
Now, people were flocking the hallway, guarding her door at any waking moment. She had to wait for the night. The night would be her ally, in this, most likely to fail, escape plan.
Night came, rather soon than late, and Deb waited in her bed, eyes wide open, still wearing the blue gown. Even if she hadn’t had it in her mind to run from this forsaken...

In the meantime, Dale was busy bossing everyone around. Usually, bossing people around was Agnes’ job, and she was quite good at it. The members of the community, literally, shitted their pants, when something didn’t go according to plan, because they were all afraid Agnes would take her anger out on them. Which she did.
Dale wasn’t that bad. He was just really nervous, and who could blame him? Everything had to be perfect, nothing could go wrong.
“Looks like te could use a hand”
Dale turned around and frowned annoyed. “What are te still doing here?” he hissed, glancing at his...

Just because Deb wasn’t allowed to leave her room, didn’t mean she wasn’t allowed any visitors. Shortly after Dale had locked her up inside, Mrs. Parker came da to keep Deb company.
By her enthusiasm, Deb guessed her mother knew what Dale was up to. She paced up and down the room, rambling on and on about silly things, that didn’t matter.
She finally stopped herself and turned to her daughter. “Tell me something” she ordered, breathless.
“Like what?” Deb shrugged.
“Anything” Mrs. Parker exclaimed, with widened eyes. “You’re going to have to do the talking, because I’m...

Because Deb hadn’t slept at all, she had no idea what time it was. All she knew, was that her stomach protested heavily, and she had to push herself up, in order to get, whatever it was that was upsetting her stomach so much, out.
She wiped her mouth, with the back of her hand, and then wiped her hand on what was left of the dress.
The basement door slammed, and she sat up, her eyes wide in fear. She recognized Agnes’ voice as Agnes was Canto and humming a song.
“Because I’m happy. Clap along if te feel like a room without a roof. Because I’m happy. Clap along if te feel like happiness-Oh...

The dripping noise, that had sounded for about three minuti so far, was driving Annabel crazy.
“Did te forget to close the tap?” she asked annoyed. There was a washing tavolo against the wall, opposite Deb’s bed.
Deb didn’t reply.
“Great” Annabel mumbled, and she swung her legs off the bed, and put her feet on the ground. She cursed, when she stepped into something wet and tepid.
She reached for her lamp, and switched it on. When she realized she was standing in a puddle of blood, and Deb’s bleeding wrist hung lifelessly over the edge of the latter’s bed, she moaned.
She strolled...