Life for Isabelle Green is perfect. Except for whatever it is that lurks in the dark when the lights go out.
~~~
Note: This is NOT a paranormal story. No jump-scares, no purple veiny hands and no skeletal figures. Just a lil thrill and romance~
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I make my way to Peter's room, realising I can't just walk into a family dinner uninvited. At the foot of the stairs, I spot Peter. He isn't alone though. He seems to be in a heated argument with a couple, whom I recognise from their profiles as Mr Green and his second wife. Mr Green has an uncanny similarity with his older brother, other than his wild red mane. Mrs Green, who is a former model, is a graceful lady in her late forties.
All three pairs of eyes turn to me as I descend. Talk about awkward.
"Mr Rodrigues?" Mr Green extends his hand. "I cannot describe how grateful we are for the protection you offer to our daughter." He doesn't look very grateful though. On the contrary, his hawk-like eyes study me closely, with obvious hostility. I don't back down, however. Instead, I school my expression into that of indifference.
"Happy to be of service, Mr Green."
"Isabelle has been terrified, the poor dear," Mrs Green begins. "I'm sure you'll take good care of her." She gives me a smile that oozes confidence and femininity, but I know better than to fall for anyone's superficial charm. Something tells me she doesn't shy away from using it to her advantage when she can.
Suddenly, we are interrupted by a shrill voice. "Mom!" A young girl of not more than eighteen screams and launches herself at Mrs Green.
"Maggie, don't run in the hallway, dear," Mrs Green chides, but returns the hug. She is followed by a quiet boy, the exact opposite of his loud sister.
"This is my daughter Margaret and my son, Ethan," Mrs Green introduces. "And this is Mr Zico Rodrigues, he'll be staying here for a while." At this, both of them turn their attention to me. Ethan only nods his head in acknowledgement, but Margaret is completely silent. Her eyes widen a little as she checks me out. Oh no.
I mean normally, I'd be flattered by the attention, but I prefer not to be hunted down by precocious teenagers on a mission. My plan to make an escape, however, fails miserably when Margaret decides to grace me with her attention.
"Ohmygosh! It's so nice to meet you! I'm Margaret, but you can call me Maggie," Maggie says. "By the way, how long are you staying here? Would you like to grab coffee with me sometime? I love coffee. I mean I like tea too, but I feel like it's not meant for us young people. We are supposed to do things differently, you know? Speaking of doing things differently, I'm a blogger. How about you? Oh wait, what do you-"
"Let the poor guy breathe Maggie," A voice from the entrance interrupts Margaret before she narrates her entire autobiography. I turn my head to see- wow. A woman, about my age, leans at the door frame and throws her leather bag at Jonathan. I desperately hope this is Isabelle Green, because my god, my mundane job suddenly seems very interesting to me.
"This is Rose, my eldest daughter," Mrs Green introduces and all my hopes are gone. Good Lord, I sound like Fred.
"A pleasure to meet you," Rose smirks. She totally knows what just crossed my mind.
