Perfume and Gold

Lauren wakes to the overpowering smell of perfume for the third night in a row. The sickeningly sweet floral scent is so pungent she has to open the window to keep it from choking her. Her lungs burn as the fresh air wafts into the room, releasing her from the flowery prison once again. She inhales deeply, looking across the backyard at the moonlit fireplace below her.

It is old and broken, the red bricks starting to crumble with age. Ivy had wrapped its way around the frame, holding all of the desiccated pieces together. She goes to her suitcase to get her camera. If anything, she can get some really interesting photographs of the site.

Still feeling the burning sensation in her throat, she decides to head down to the kitchen to get something to drink. No doubt someone will be up meandering the common quarters. She walks down the hallway, padding softly on the hardwood floor. Joseph’s door is closed. No doubt he has turned in early to curl up with the stolen books he now has in his possession. She wonders if Dr. Martin is aware of his habitual thievery.

The light in the living room is on again and she pops her head in to see who may be up at such a late hour. No one is there. She glances at the clock. 12:38 am. This is the third night that someone has left the light on in this room. Maybe Joseph is afraid of the dark? She shakes her head at the private joke, crossing the room to turn off the lamp that sits next to the large sofa.

Darkness fills the house again. Feeling her way along the floor to the hallway once more, she heads into the kitchen to retrieve a bottle of water. As she gulps down the cool liquid, she can feel the ache in her throat subsiding. She decides it will probably be a good idea, not only for her health, to switch rooms. But that can wait until morning.

She wonders where the smell could be coming from. Maybe someone had spilled a bottle of perfume down the vent? It would make sense that every time the air conditioning kicked on or even the heater that the smell would overpower the room. She will have to do some investigating in the daylight.

When she gets back to her quarters, the smell had all but disappeared. She is too exhausted to do anything but climb under the covers. The chilly night air drifts across her face. It feels good, so she doesn’t mind the window being open. Lying back into the cool sheets, she closes her eyes and sighs deeply. She curls one hand under her chin and buries the other under the pillow.

It is then she feels something cold and hard under her palm. She pulls out the object. It is the ring that had been beside her laptop when she’d come into the room the night they had found the dress. She swears that she had put it on the dresser.

She places it on the nightstand by her head, pondering its whereabouts for a few more minutes before her exhaustion takes hold and she can’t keep her eyes open any longer.