Don't Look Back

Part 2

"Follow. Follow. Follow." The whispering continued. Almost like a spell was placed over you, you climbed out of bed and on to your feet. The figure stared for a moment before running off, taking the whispers with it. You slowly approached the open door. Wasn't it locked? You peak out side your door, the whispering beaconing you further.
Your bare feet padded softly down the dark and deserted halls. From what little light was given you could see the mess set before you. Windows were broken, the long delicate rug was torn, the small desks holding dainty flowers and flawless glass figurines were knocked over. Broken glass was scattered along the floor. Rain soaked the carpet and pooled on the hard wood. Lightning flashed and you spotted a darker substance mixed in with the rain water, but couldn't be sure. The small figure giggled as it vanished around a corner. With the figure now gone, all whispers and chants fled, leaving you alone, cold, and tired in the long corridor.
Your hands fumbled blindly along the wall as you searched for the lights. Finding the switch you happily flipped it, only to find the the lights were out. You let out a sigh, not wanting to get any louder. You winced, biting your tongue to keep from shouting. Beneath your bloody foot was crushed glass. You struggled to pry the broken glass from your bare foot, surly leaving a nasty gash in its place.
You froze, the hair on the back of your neck standing on edge. Not too far behind you was the sound of more breaking glass, as if some on or something was calmly walking over it at a fast pace. Alarmed you turned to look, but saw nothing. You let out a tiny chuckle, barely louder than a whisper, it's alright, every thing's fine. You turn back to the hall and practically jump out of your skin. Standing at the end of the hall was the figure from earlier.
The way the lightning flashed made the small child look as pale as the fresh snow. Their hair was short, making it difficult to tell if it was a boy or a girl. The child looked small from afar, making it impossible to verify the age. The child stared at you with what you only assume were wide eyes. They suddenly turned and vanished.
"Follow." It whispered again. Caught in its spell you walked onward. It was only luck that you managed to avoid any more glass. You slowly made your way to where you saw the child. Each step was more regretful than the last, but not enough to stop you. You slowed to a vault when the hall split into several sections. Which way did the child go?
You looked around, feeling the strange need to help the kid. It wasn't the mistress's child, or your own, but you felt the need to take care of it. Going off of pure gut, you made a left and headed for the master's side if the large castle like mansion. Unlike the other servants, you hardly ever stepped foot onto this side, the child would always come to you. This side was new and foreign to you, and you had nota clue as to where anything was. Sure when you were hired they gave you a tour, but that had been years ago.
You stopped at the large stair way. Below you stood a painting so large it covered the entire wall. You've seen paintings that do such before, but never one that fit upon such a great wall before.
The stairs were covered in a delicate carpet similar to the one in the servant's corridor, but this one was cleaner, more intact, and brighter. It looked brand new. The railing was polished and perfect. This side was defiantly much more gran than the servant's side.
You were honestly unsure if you should even set foot upon the richer side. You feared that you could get in trouble, loose you job, or anything really. But the lightning flashed again and there was the child, chanting again.
As if you were a mere puppet on strings of silver, You gently followed the child's voice. You followed as if your life depended on it.
The carpet was soft to the touch, soothing the pain from your glass pierced foot. But again, You met to sticky, cold liquid. Breaking out of my illusion you observed my surroundings.
The tall proud walls were delicately painted with coats of blood. Flies buzzed noisily around a lump of red mess near the door. The door had several large bookshelves. One if which tripled in your weight. This it blocked the main exit from your home. The large room reeked, making every thing you've eaten recently run you your throat and threatens to flee to the floor.
Pained and disgusting, you struggle past it, struggling to over power your urge to vomit. The chanting, you now notice, has ceased. Small panic runs through your mind.
Disgusted by the mess, you decide to flee to the nearest door. It slides open with the greatest of ease, throwing an ever lasting darkness over you. You took one last look at the mess. Something told you to see what it was rotting on the ground. Something else, a darker side of the strange voices, told you to follow the phantom like child. You obeyed the darker harsher voice.
You gently closed the heavy door, blind to the threatening darkness. The whispering had turned a sickening static sound, as if satan was calling to you instead of the small child it had once been. A chill ran down your back, but you still followed.