My Bratty Wife
Chapter 54 - Fifty Four

Chapter 54: Chapter Fifty Four

Suzy’s sleep was anything but peaceful. A film of sweat clung to her skin, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Her body writhed beneath the tangled sheets, as if caught in an invisible struggle.

Muted moans escaped her lips, punctuated by the occasional whisper of two words– "Help Me." Her brow furrowed in deep concentration, her features contorted in a mask of terror.

She tossed and turned in her sleep, a sheen of sweat clinging to her skin despite the cool night air. "Father" she cried.

She was trapped, caught in a tangled web of darkness. The air around her crackled with unseen menace, the shadows twisting and contorting into monstrous shapes. A low, guttural growl echoed through the oppressive darkness, sending shivers down her spine.

Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat threatening to burst from her chest. She tried to call out again, but her voice was lost in the suffocating silence. Panic clawed at her throat, constricting her airways, making even the shallowest breath a struggle.

She thrashed on the bed, tangled in the sheets, desperate to escape the suffocating nightmare. Her hand brushed against something cool and smooth – the bedside table. A lifeline in the storm of fear.

With a surge of adrenaline, she grasped the edge of the table, the familiar feeling grounding her momentarily. A sob escaped her lips, a choked, desperate sound that seemed to hang heavy in the air.

But the darkness wasn’t done with her yet. The guttural growl intensified, growing closer, until it seemed to be right in her ear. She squeezed her eyes shut, tears leaking past their lids, hot and stinging.

Suzy awoke with a gasp, the remnants of a horrifying dream clinging to her like cobwebs. She sat bolt upright in bed, chest heaving, heart hammering a frantic tattoo against her ribs. Cold sweat plastered her nightgown to her skin, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

Disoriented, she glanced around the familiar room, its soft morning light a welcome contrast to the oppressive darkness of her nightmare. The terror, however, was still fresh, a raw and unsettling feeling that refused to dissipate.

"Just a dream," she whispered to herself, her voice hoarse with the lingering fear. But the memory of it was vivid, a horrifying tableau etched into her mind.

In her nightmare, she found herself trapped inside the Duke’s castle’s well. The rough, cold stone walls pressed in on her, the darkness absolute and suffocating. The air grew thick and stale, the well’s dank smell filling her nostrils.

Panic surged through her as she realized she was sinking, the icy water rising around her ankles, then her knees, then her waist. She thrashed against the invisible force, her screams swallowed by the suffocating silence.

"Help! Help me" she shrieked, her voice ragged with terror. But there was no answer, no sound to pierce the oppressive silence. She was utterly alone, trapped in a watery tomb.

The water clawed at her throat, stealing her breath, a cold, suffocating sensation that filled her with a primal fear. She clawed at the well’s rim, her fingers scraping against the rough stone, desperate for any assistance, any escape from her watery demise.

But it was no use. Her strength ebbed away, her vision blurring as the darkness closed in. The chilling sensation of the water filled her lungs, a silent scream trapped in her throat. And then... nothing.

Suzy jolted back to reality, the gasp escaping her lips echoing through the room. She clung to the edge of the mattress, her breaths shallow and rapid, the images of the nightmare flashing before her eyes.

Sunlight streamed through the window, casting a warm glow on the room signifying a new day. The sounds of the waking household – the clatter of dishes, the soft murmur of voices – drifted in from the hallway, a comforting reminder of the world beyond her nightmare.

Tears welled up in her eyes, spilling over and tracing hot tracks down her cheeks. She wasn’t sure what the dream meant, but the terror it evoked was undeniable. Was it a premonition of danger? A reflection of the fear that had been gnawing at her ever since the attack?

Suzy squeezed her eyes shut, trying to shake off the lingering terror. She needed to get a grip, to face the day. But the memory of the dream, the sense of helplessness and hopelessness, lingered like a bad taste in her mouth.

With a shaky hand, Suzy reached for the glass of water on the nightstand. Taking a long, slow sip, she savored the cool liquid, the simple act grounding her in reality.

But something else snagged at her, a detail that poked through the haze of terror. "Wait," she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible. "That wasn’t me in the well..."

A jolt of realization sent a shiver down her spine. The woman in the dream, the one who had plummeted into the inky blackness, her features had been blurred, obscured by fear and the chilling darkness. But there was an unmistakable quality – she had never encountered such scenario before in this world, her dreams are always shown with her own real image and there was a hint of defiance in the way she clawed at the well’s edge.

"Cassandra," Suzy breathed, the name echoing in the quiet room. "It was Cassandra in the well."

Her brow furrowed in confusion. According to the official story, Cassandra had taken her own life, throwing herself into the very same well that had haunted her dreams because she doesn’t want to marry the Grand Duke. But the image of Cassandra in the dream, the raw panic in her eyes, the desperate scream for help – it all contradicted the narrative of a peaceful suicide.

"If she jumped, if she was attempting sucide," Suzy murmured, her voice laced with disbelief, "why was she screaming for help?"

The question hung heavy in the air, unanswered and unsettling. Was there more to Cassandra’s death than met the eye? Had something more sinister occurred that fateful night?

As she wrestled with these troubling thoughts, the creak of the bedroom door drew her attention. Doris entered the room, her usually cheerful face etched with concern.

"Milady," Doris said, her voice soft. "Are you alright? I heard a noise and thought you might need something."

Suzy forced a weak smile. "I’m just fine, Doris," she lied, the events of the dream still swirling in her mind. "Just... a bad dream." She recounted the details of the dream, leaving out the revelation about Cassandra until she’s certain about her findings as she doesn’t want to rally Doris up seeing how much she loved her Lady.

Doris listened patiently, her expression a mixture of sympathy and apprehension. "Nightmares can be quite frightening, Milady," she soothed once Suzy finished. "Perhaps a cup of calming chamomile tea would help you rest better?"

Suzy nodded, a wave of gratitude washing over her. The simple act of sharing her fear, of having someone listen, was a comfort in itself. "Yes, please, Doris," she replied. "That would be lovely."

As Doris bustled about the room, preparing the tea, Suzy couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to her dream than met the eye.

"You seem troubled, Milady," Doris observed gently, her voice laced with concern. "Is there anything else on your mind?"

Suzy hesitated. The dream was unsettling, but it felt strangely personal, something she wasn’t ready to share with just anyone. "No, Doris," she replied, forcing a light tone. "Just the usual worries, I suppose."

Doris’s gaze held a knowing glint. "Perhaps you’re thinking about His Grace?" she ventured, her voice soft.

Suzy’s stomach clenched. The mention of Ryan sent a wave of conflicting emotions through her. Anger, frustration, and a flicker of... something else, something she couldn’t quite define.

"Ryan?" she echoed, feigning disinterest. "Whatever makes you say that?"

Doris chuckled softly, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "We women know these things, Milady," she said with a knowing wink. "But don’t you fret, I’m sure His Grace is doing just fine. In fact, he’s currently in his study."

Suzy raised an eyebrow, a hint of defiance flickering in her eyes. "Is that so?" she replied nonchalantly. "Well, good for him."

The truth was, a part of her worried about Ryan, about the attack and the lingering danger they faced. But she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing it. Not after their recent clashes.

"Would you like me to tell him of your visit, Milady?" Doris offered, her brow furrowed slightly.

Suzy shook her head, the defiance hardening into a mask of indifference. "No, that won’t be necessary, I believe His Grace has more pressing matters to attend to." she declared. "Besides, I have other things to occupy my time."

She glanced pointedly at the window, the morning sun casting an inviting glow across the room. "The library, perhaps. A little reading is never a bad thing, is it?"

Doris’s lips pursed slightly, but she bowed her head in acquiescence. "Of course, Milady," she agreed. "Perhaps some light reading will clear your head."

Suzy nodded curtly, a flicker of appreciation warming her for Doris’s understanding. She might not have shared the details of her dream, but the concern in the maid’s eyes spoke volumes.

"Then help me get dressed, Doris," Suzy instructed, rising from the bed. "I have a feeling today will be a busy one."

As Doris assisted her, Suzy couldn’t help but steal a glance at the door leading to the hallway.