Chapter Text
It’s a warm May, but not too much so.
The breeze is enough to caress your face as you lie in the grass. The grass sways ever so slightly with the weather, your hair following suit, but never blocking your view.
Inhaling the faintest hint of pollen through the air, you admire the flowering trees swaying in the wind. Their twisty trunks tower over you, providing the perfect amount of shade to balance out the warm sunlight peeping through the leaves.
You smile, messing with a wildflower you just plucked from the ground moments ago. The petals graze your fingertips while your other hand twists the stem.
You shut your eyes, slowing your breathing.
Your shoulders lose their tension, and you feel lighter.
You can hear the chirping of birds fade in and out of earshot. Opening an eye, you see two flying around each other. You close your peeping eye and rest your head against the moss.
Yes.
This is nice.
The air is fresher, the people are more pleasant. The UK is wonderful, now more than ever. Considering you just escaped America for your internship, your start in the industry.
The best time to travel, to experiment, is in your college years. The world is your oyster, and your pockets could never be emptier.
At least the places you’ve worked at provide room and board, with a pay cut, but unfortunately, it’s the experience that counts. It’s what you trade for your youth to climb the corporate ladder: to buy a house.
Regardless, anything is better than America right now.
Even the British countryside is pleasing to look at. The roads are nice, traffic isn’t bad, and things are still very convenient— just better looking.
Hell, even transportation as a whole is easier. Most of the people in London knew that you were American because of the shock on your face when you went on the metro train for the first time.
When worse comes to worst, you can crash out and move here… or to Ireland. Or anywhere else besides America.
You sit up, leaning against the tree trunk. Letting out a happy sigh as you enjoy the first full day of your escape from the reality of your home country.
Opening your eyes, you find that a rabbit hops into view. Cute, a ghostly, pure white, and a waistcoat.
A waistcoat…..
A WAISTCOAT?
Your eyes go wide as it pulls out a ticking pocket watch, its ears spring up, and it starts to bolt. In your direction.
Yelping, you scramble to your feet and trip on the tree roots you were just resting on. Your hands flail around like rogue snakes, slapping the tree trunk for you to fall on. Your head flops on your arms, and your knees twist inward. You steady yourself, wobbling against the tree as you gather your bearings. Knees turned inward, you shake off the shock in your heart.
Your name escapes in the beautifully accented voice of your newest colleague, “Are you alright?”
“Yeah,” You straighten up, a few choice bones in your spine popping. You make eye contact with the timid brunette.
“Thank you for checking up on me, Sierra.” She bows her head slightly, slowly closing her eyes before her head bobs back up.
“There’s supposed to be a toast soon,” she tilts her head back to the estate perched on top of the hill behind her. Looming over the complex hedge maze that I got lost in earlier.
“See you there.” Sierra spins on her heels and walks up the steep hill, disappearing behind the hedges of the estate.
“Yeah.” You grunt, wobbling to a normal stand, “See you there.”
…
The garden is lavish the second time you walk through it.
Hedges that are higher than any man could be, topiaries are trimmed to perfection, and not a bug in sight. The numerous pots of red creeping thyme would do that. Sculptures of flawless people in model-like poses accent every twist and turn that this estate provides.
It’s something out of a movie, and yet, it’s like the outside world doesn’t exist in here. What struggles? Surely, there is no strife here; the bliss subdues it all.
Your shoes tap against the intricately carved stepping stones, one measured step in front of each other, you’re trying to avoid leaving footprints in the checkered-patterned clover and grass that this pocket of the maze provides.
A cacophony of laughter bleeds through the garden, your head turns in the direction of the Maze’s heart- the gateway between a large house older than your family tree, furnished with heirlooms worth more than a spoiled young aristocrat with a pension.
You should join them.
It’s not like you’re missed or needed at the moment; it’s a petty cocktail party with the higher-ups. They probably had their arms twisted by HR to appear more appealing and admirable to those at the bottom.
So, you had your cocktail already and are out their sight. You’d rather not deal with the glares and turned-up noses, though it would be the right and mature thing to do.
Though you wouldn’t mind another one, that first one went down so smoothly that you barely remember tasting it. However, the flavor lingering in your mouth begs for another….
“There you are.” You whip your body around, performing an about-face and a talent of tying your ankles together. You nearly fall over before you can see who called for you. (Maybe you shouldn’t go for another cocktail.)
It’s Sierra again, “Come on, the interns are supposed to say a thing or two.” Ah, the “What I hope for” speech. There hasn’t been a time or occasion when what you’ve wanted was attempted after a higher-up promised they would. You’ve gotten quite good at lowering your expectations. They might as well be underground at this point.
She takes your hand, “How much did you drink?” She starts pulling you to the nearest turn in the maze. “One,” You respond, “I’m just out of shape and uncoordinated.” Your foot gets caught on a stepping stone, and you nearly take Sierra down with you.
“I’d say part of that is true, unless you had a stunt double during the team bonding event this morning.” Ah, she has a point. Only because you did varsity sports all of high school, physical activity kept you sane from everything else there.
Then again, you were only able to spike the ball at your unathletic colleagues because of an ugly mix of a second (or third, you’re not sure) tailwind and adrenaline from excitement with playing the sport. Now, it’s like you’re piloting a different carcass.
“That’s fair.” You muse as she guides you back through the garden, murming about how her boss keeps bitching about the white rose bushes here. What a distinct asshole of an executive to make even an secretary quietly bitch about it.
“I suppose I just lose my depth perception after I drink.” You try to focus on the roses while your mind keeps drifting, the thought of painting the bushes red crosses your mind, but you’re labeling it as an over-tired thought.
“Don’t we all?” She rolls her eyes, “I’d be more concerned if you were hyper aware.”
“I walked into that one, didn’t I?” You smile, trying your best to hide the guilt bubbling in your chest. Your eyes go back to the garden,
“More like stumbled.” She mumbles, and you snort.
“Though, to give credit where it is due, you’ve only been here for….what? 48 hours at this point. You’re exhausted, I know you are.” “I am.” You say, knowing jet lag could be a big player in your current demise, “I don’t remember getting off the plane.” “That’ll do it.” She sighs, “I don’t know how you Americans do it.” “We just do, Sierra, we just do.” You look at the hedge archway ahead. You can already see the pearls, suits, and designer items on the clothing hangers you call company executives. The waft of espenstive perfume burns at your nostrils. If only they knew what they pamper themselves with was made out of.
“Do you know what you’re going to say?” She whispers to you, guiding you off to where the other interns are.
“I’m excited to work here and represent my college. Thank you for this opportunity,” you recite, it’s normally what you say when you get a rejection letter or cut from another round of interviews. You’re so used to the word “no” that hearing a “yes” shocks you.
Sierra nods and joins the other company mentors while some random chairperson blabs on about something to do with gratuity. It’s barely rehearsed, and the alcohol is making them too nonchalant.
One by one, everyone speaks, raising their glass while you raise a bottle of water. The speeches are so long that the alcohol is leaving your system. It’s all fluff and fake promises, shit that the hopeless latch onto like leeches. You roll your eyes when people clap for these assholes.
You spoke (eventually) and it earned the respectful nods of your peers, which is what you expect. Nobody seems to be giving good criticism nowadays.
You couldn’t care less about all that now, due to the rabbit showing up from under a nearby table. It flips its ears as it looks at the clock’s anxious and persistent ticking. It trots off into the maze, and you can’t help but follow it this time.
You don’t even know where you are going, the foliage warps and winds as you run after the pure white creature. You duck under small trees and jump over stone benches, ignoring your sudden focus and rapidly changing surroundings within the labyrinth.
The only thing you recognise was the archway that emptied out of the garden and into the You find yourself back at the tree you were lounging at before, the rabbit taunting your curiosity like that swaying pocket watch of theirs.
Your ankles twist and pop as your feet get caught in the roots. The rabbit doesn’t move, just watching you with a tilted head.
It looks at you, adjusting its glasses. Nose twitching, it dangles the pocket watch and then leaps into a part of the tree that you didn’t know it had.
A rather large rabbit hole.
It seems that you are still somewhat drunk as you crouch down and lean into the hole. The thought of falling in does cross your mind, but you want to see where the rabbit has gone.
And then the ground caved under your weight.
You fall in.