Mansion •5SOS• {COMPLETED}

{7}

Becca's POV

I never grew tired of seeing the beautifully painted ceiling through the black veil that hung over my bed. I got up as I readjusted the All Time Low tank top I wore to sleep. My feet loved the amazing feel of the black fuzzy rug. I started walking towards my walk in closet and grabbed a pair of fuzzy socks to avoid the cold floor. I decided to put on a pair of pants before I went downstairs because I didn't want the staff to see me in a tank top, underwear, and socks. I wore some warm, gray lounging pants. I pulled my head into a lazy ponytail and started to head out of my bedroom. I trotted down the stairs and headed towards the dining room, expecting a nice big breakfast cooked by Tiff and Michael.

When I did reach the dining room, the dining table was empty and I didn't hear or smell anything. I slowly walked to the kitchen and searched for any sign of a delicious breakfast being made. There was no such thing going on. The counters were cleared except for maybe a knife block or a container of other miscellaneous utensils. The pots and pans, and the plates and bowls were stored away in cupboards and cabinets.

My eyebrows furrowed together. I turned on my heel and headed towards the staff quarters. I went to Tiff's room first and knocked on the door.

"Hey, Tiff? You in there?" I called.

No response.

I went to Michael's room after checking the time to see if they were still asleep. I knocked on Michael's door now.

"Michael? You in there?" I asked.

No response.

I started walking to Ronson's room to see if he was still asleep too. I knocked on his door but instead of getting no response as usual, the door opened once my knuckle touched the door. I peeked inside of the room and there was no one. The giant window that's in every room was covered up by a gigantic dark curtain, the walls were a brown that was almost black, his bed was medium sized and all black, and his floor was covered completely with clothes, papers, and other junk. There were no lights on at all so the only light in the room was the tiny of light coming through the dark, opaque curtains. But no sign of Ronson.

"Ronson?" I called out.

I walked into the room in case he was buried under all the stuff. I did my best to avoid stepping on important things. I was almost near the bed when a yellowing newspaper clipping came to my attention. The clipping was on the night stand beside the bed. I made my way towards it, almost falling in the process. Nonetheless, I reached it and I picked it up.

'DOUBLE STABBING AT BLACKWOOD MANOR' read the title. Why would Ronson keep this old clipping from...? I read the date. '1870'?! How did Ronson get this clipping?! He wouldn't've been born yet!

"Mistress Rebecca?" I heard a familiar voice.

I whipped around, swiftly stashing the clipping in my back pocket. Ronson was standing there, a furious look on his face.

"Ronson-"

"Mistress Rebecca, what in heaven's name are you doing in my living quarters? Snooping through my things?"

"I was looking for you because I thought you got hurt and or buried somewhere," I replied truthfully.

"Why were you snooping through my things?" Ronson asked, making his way (a/n: doWNTOWN WALKING FAST FACES PASS AND I'M HOMEBOUND dunnanunnananana) towards me, his eyes looking more and more furious by the minute.

"I was making sure you weren't buried."

Ronson finally made it towards me and he towered over me with a shadow being cast over his face. His mouth twisted into a violent frown.

"Get out," he growled in a low voice.

And oh did I ever. I practically made a break for the door. I skidded to a halt once I reached the stairs and I slid down the banister. It was fun, but I was too busy wondering where everyone was and attempting to escape Ronson. I looked behind me, still running and making sure Ronson hadn't started charging after me. I then ran into something hard. Like a brick wall... I fell down and started rubbing my head.

"Oh my god!" I heard Luke exclaim. I opened my eyes to see him with a worried expression. He extended his hand towards me. "Here, let me help you up!"

I laughed and took his hand.

"It's okay, Luke. I should be apologizing because I was the one who ran into you. I'm sorry."

"Oh, okay. Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yeah, definitely," I assured. "Hey, where are Tiff and Michael?"

"Oh, they got up early to buy some more food for breakfast. I guess they're a bit late because it's almost eleven A.M."

"Oh. Well, I found this weird newspaper clipping in Ronson's room-"

"Why were you in his room?" He asked.

"I was looking for him! I was worried everyone was taken or something!" I snapped, tired of the question. "Anyways, back to my clipping I found."

I gingerly grabbed it, careful not to rip the extremely ancient thing. I showed it to him. Luke took it and his eyes scanned the paper.

" '1870'?!" Luke asked incredulously.

I just nodded.

"How'd he get his hands on this?!"

"I don't know! Read the title!" I ordered, getting excited.

" 'Double Stabbing in Blackwood Manor'. Oh, yeah! My parents told me about it! The owner who lived here before your grandparents bought it, he used to beat and abuse the staff. Mum says that one of the butlers, that was abused the most for being too curious, got fed up with the way the owner treated them. He went mental and stabbed the owner. Then, get this, he stabbed himself!"

"That's exactly what Ella, my friend, said!"

"Well, I guess it might be an old wives tale. I don't know, but it's a fun story to tell to visitors," Luke shrugged.

"Let's read what the article says," I said, changing the subject.

Residents Quentin Locke and Ronald Shwartson were found brutally stabbed in Blackwood Manor this day. No one knows when the two were murdered, but judging by the warmth of the bodies, it was probably late last night. It was most likely Ronald 'Ron' or 'Ronny', as friends called him, went rogue and killed Mr. Locke. The rest of Locke's staff confessed to being abused by 'Master Locke'. They also told us that Ron wasn't the slightest bit suspicious about anything. He was his usual self. Staff member, Chef Gusto, says "Master Locke wasn't the best master. I still got me a slice on the wrist from my own cleaver. I forgot the ickle flower on the side of Master Locke's breakfast and he asked for me cleaver and then he sliced me wrist. But Ronny never got punished like that. Ronny got it worser. He was beat with Master Locke's belts that had spikes on 'em. Sharp 'ns, they were. And just for givin' him too hot tea." More about the stabbing on page 5.

I looked at Luke, surprise on both our faces.

"This Quentin Locke guy was a terrible person," Luke said, apparently not understanding why the shock on my face was much bigger on my face.

"Luke," I started. "Quentin Locke was my great great great grandfather."