It all started with a rapping on the door. Christabel looked up from her quilting, brushing her long, burgundy hair from her emerald green eyes as she did so. She glanced at her mother, who wore a trouble expression. Veronica Boothe motioned for her daughter to fetch her sister, who was in the kitchen cleaning up after this evening’s meal.Veronica set down her own part of their latest quilting project, rising as she did so. “Nathaniel,” she called to her husband as she strode to the foot of the stairs, “There is someone at the door…”

Nathaniel Boothe warily tread down the stairs, meeting his wife at the foot. He glanced around to make sure that the other members of his family were present and safe inside the house. Afterwards, he advanced to the door and opened it.

Before him stood a striking man, who appeared as though he could only be in his thirties. Long, silvery-black hair fell into charcoal eyes and stood out upon his pale skin. He was much taller that Nathaniel, so much so that the latter had to raise his gaze slightly to have a better look at the former. The visitor smiled as he gracefully swept off his hat and cloak, offering them to Nathaniel as the second greeted the stranger and bade him to come away from the chilly evening.

Nathaniel requested that his youngest daughter Eleanor bring his guest something to chase away his chills, while Christabel stood and offered him her chair by the fire. She found him to be quite attractive and elegant. She marveled as he situated himself to receive the optimal amount of heat from the flames. He gratefully accepted the mug of ale that Eleanor offered, but did not drink from it. Instead, he gazed into the blaze as if mesmerized.

After a period of silence and watching the newcomer’s antics, Nathaniel spoke, “Well, what has brought you to our humble home this late in the evening, Mister…?”

The stranger looked as if he had been rudely awakened from a wonderful dream. He started, a look of annoyance fleeting across his face as he stared at the head of the Boothe family for several moments, almost as if he didn’t realize where he was; he then quickly recovered and gathered himself.

“My name is…Mathias,” he meticulously said. His articulate manner sent shivers up Christabel’s spine. “I have come to speak with you about your daughters.”

Veronica and Nathaniel exchanged a concerned look. Eventually, Nathaniel turned his gaze towards his daughters.

“I want you to go upstairs and get ready for bed. Eleanor, don’t worry about the rest of your chores. They can be done in the morning.”

Christabel knew that something serious was about to happen, but she obediently followed her younger sister upstairs. At the top of the stairs she hesitated, but she knew that her parents were waiting for them to begin their nightly routines before speaking again.

She sighed, letting her frustration out with it. This Mathias was probably another suitor. Being twenty-three, she knew that she must marry eventually and start a family of her own, but every man that had been interested in her just seemed to have at least one important thing wrong with him. Either (she cringed to be so judgmental) he was not very good-looking or something else that seemed menial to everyone else. This man, this Mathias, seemed attractive enough, but he was so much older than she was. She stood behind her sister, who had already occupied the space in front of the mirror, and commenced to brush out her hair. All she really wanted was to stay with her mother and help her sell quilts. She knew, however, that this was unrealistic. Well, at least this one is handsome…

Soon, both were in their shared bed and dozing in and out of sleep. Her parents were still talking with the stranger downstairs. What could possibly take so long to talk about? Christabel thought lazily as she allowed her body to drift off into slumber. Why couldn’t Mathias just come back in the morning?

In what on seemed like a few minutes, Christabel was awoken by shouts downstairs. Sitting up and looking around groggily, she rubbed the sleep from her eyes and glanced at her sister. She was still asleep, but then again, she had always been a heavy sleeper.

A noise on the stairs made Christabel jerk. The good-looking stranger, Mathias, was at the head of the stairs and was staring and the two once-sleeping forms. Without a word, he strode over and ripped the covers off the two of them.

The roughness of the action caused Eleanor to stir. For a second, she looked at her sister and the newcomer in confusion; then, after realizing what was happening, she began to scream for her parents. Christabel maneuvered herself between Mathias and Eleanor and demanded, “What are you doing up here?”

“I’ve come to take you away,” he said matter-of-factly. Without further ado, he effortlessly picked up the two and hauled each respectively over a shoulder. Eleanor was still screaming.

“If you do not cease that infernal racket, I will be forced to quiet you. You do not wish for me to do that,” he scolded as he gazed into her upside-down face.

Mysteriously, all expression seemed to drain from Eleanor’s face, and she obediently quieted. Christabel, on the other hand, was struggling vigilantly. She was amazed by his grip, which appeared to be iron-tight. No matter how hard she wiggled and kicked, he held on with the same pressure, neither tightening nor relaxing his grip. Mathias scolded her several times to stay put, but she refused to listen. Finally, he set her down after they had managed to trek down the stairs again. Eleanor stood tranquilly where Mathias had placed her, her face still possessing that glazed look.

Christabel could see that her mother had fainted from whatever had transpired.She was horrified to see her father lying on the floor. Tears welled in her eyes as she took in the gruesome sight. Someone, or something, had torn his throat apart, causing a pool of blood to collect around her father’s head, which also met the edge of her mother’s project. Christabel’s eyes widenedas she realized that the doll her mother had made for her fifth birthday was lying among the fabric. She dashed over to the pile, carefully avoiding her father’s corpse, and scooped up the little doll. She clutched it close to her chest as a few tears escaped her control.

She started and dropped her beloved doll when a surprisingly gentle hand was placed upon her shoulder. She looked up to see Mathias standing behind her with a saddened look, “I am…truly sorry for your loss, dear one,” he murmured, “but it was the only way in order for the two you to leave with me tonight.”

Rage gradually replaced that sadness within her, and she glowered at the intruder. “Leave with you?” she cried contemptuously, “What would make you think that my sister and I would ever leave with you? Obviously, our father disapproved, and you murdered him for it! You’re a monster!” she screamed as she threw herself at Mathias, pounding him with her fists. He continued to watch her, almost with pity; then, to her bewilderment, he began to laugh.

“Foolish girl! Do you honestly think I care what your parents thought; much less whether you are willing to leave? I only asked them out of mere politeness! Now stop your useless hitting, dry your eyes, and come along like a good little girl.”

Christabel continued to angrily watch him as he strode toward the door and opeed it. He again called for her to ‘come along,’ as well as commanding Eleanor to follow him. Eleanor immediately staggered behind him, with that confounded empty look! It was as if…It was as if he had brainwashed her into following his commands.

With that thought she threw herself at him again, striking him with all the strength she could muster.

He gave a small grunt and glanced askance at her before grabbing her shoulders.

“I wish I didn’t have to do this, but you leave me no choice.”

Without warning, he commenced to throw her into the nearest wall. The force once again stunned Christabel, and this was her last thought before her head connected with the wall. Then everything faded to black.