The Silver Platter

The Silver Platter

As Victoria was led down the silent hallway the callous woman with the icy manor reminded her for the third time that in this house there were rules. “This house is full of people who keep to themselves, these are just the rules.” She always spoke at her, never to her, and she never looked at Victoria. She stopped by the third door on the right and opened the door with a rusty key. “This room is not somewhere to invite a friend”, she repeated in a firm voice as she closed the big door, leaving Victoria alone to her own accord. The walls were almost completely bare. White, accompanied by a dark stain on the high ceiling. A small shelf next to the door was the first thing to catch Victoria’s eye. It was empty apart from a blanket, a pillow and several inches of dust on top. She zipped open the bag at her side and pulled out three glass frames, placing each of them on the shelf in a perfect row after wiping away the dust.

They were portraits of a past once hers. Broad jetty eyebrows, a dark stern expression of distaste, the man in this picture had his arms tucked around miniature version of Victoria. The frame to his right hosted a gorgeous young woman with brilliant red curls topped off with august loving smile. The pretty woman danced gaily, immersed in the beauty of the moment. Victoria feared the boy with the crimson eyes, but refused to part with this photo because it was taken the day before the fire.

A more valuable asset to the room was the tall antique mirror that lived beneath the coffee stain. It had a golden tint, and was speckled with age. Victoria thought this mirror could make just about anything look beautiful. Over exposure could in time lead to taking this exquisite thing for granted, and with this she tore her eyes from it. She spotted a mouldy screen against the opposite wall and placed it in front of the mirror, creating a cosy space where she could sit and hide from the peering eyes of her friends on the shelf.

She smiled and then frowned at her reflection.
“I am beautiful, ” she whispered. Her face dissolved and the boy with the crimson eyes appeared.
“I am beautiful too” he remarked, before emitting a malignant grin in spite of his plain appearance.
“Of course you are, but you have to keep your voice down or they might hear, they might get jealous…” she replied. Any hint of a smile on the boy's face was gone. His eyes darkened.
“What have you been telling them?” He continued after a pause. “This is supposed to be our little secret, remember?” Her reflection returned. She heard the whispered threat.
“You forget how dearly I can punish you Victoria.” Her mouth moved but it was his spiteful voice, his cutting words. “If you did what you were told, if you obeyed me… I wouldn't have to punish you so. I saw you talking to them just now. You must be punished.”
“You lie, why are you so cruel?”
“Destroy them,” were his final words.

The moment was broken by the sound of footsteps echoing down the corridor behind the door. The lock clicked and the door opened. "I see you are talking to yourself again Victoria," said the callous nurse, Nurse Winter. She put her hand on Victoria's arm in a controlling manor. "My heart goes out to you. Losing your family like that. And your darling little brother…What beautiful crimson eyes they were. Who could've guessed he'd do such an evil thing?" Nurse Winter pulled her other hand from her pocket. "Well, It's time for your medication." Victoria closed her eyes as Nurse Winter jammed the needle into her arm. The fatigue set in and everything began to spin. "He's gone now, they all are. Except for you," said the distant voice, as she collapsed, her fall broken by the fleshy arms of the nurse.

When she woke the room was dark. Stars plastered the night sky like drops of bright paint on a dark canvas. The moon was visible through the small window, like a lighthouse, shining it’s forgiving beam of light onto a lonely sea, illuminated the three frames, making their faces appear almost lifelike. "I’m so sorry!” screamed Victoria, as she brutally knocked two to the floor, where they smashed, and splintered, carpeting the floor in a sea of glass and memories, the boy with the crimson eyes sat safely on the shelf, a hint of a grin plastered across his placid face. Victoria ran her hands through her brilliant red curls and emitted a loving smile. She continued by running them down her horrifically burnt face.

For a moment Victoria forgot where she was and imagined that she was a princess and this was her tower. She had everything she needed up in this tower and the boy with the crimson eyes was her prince in shining armour. Just like a silver platter, she was precious, shiny and exact. The illusion vanished as quickly as it came, leaving Victoria with all the time in the world to think about what she had done. " He made me do it," she whispered. "He made me do it".