Glass Hearts

Chapter 35: Hollow Space

Kevin Kim POV 

Parked outside of the ruined mansion, I am filled with disgust as I take in the horrible condition of the home Chris and I grew up in. Instead of the beautiful two-story manor with the extravagant garden, I am greeted with cobwebs and busted windows. Trash and ripped-up tree trunks have taken the place of the hibiscus and camellia plants that brightened our walks. Leaves and weeds take refuge in the walkway while the doors look like they are about to fall off their hinges. 

I step out of the car and wade through the high grass in the unkempt yard. The overcast sky does little to erase my mood as I hike up the creaking steps. Moss cakes the decrepit building while vines snake around the entryway, making it hard to open the front door. Twisting the knob back and forth does little to force the gears from their warped hold. I ram my shoulder against the unmoving door until it budges. Once, I've managed to get inside the skeletal structure, the silence constructs a hollow space in the center of my chest. All signs of familiarity have vanished.

Everything is coated in a layer of dust, untouched for years and weathered away. Faded streamers and busted balloons litter the living room, while rotted cake oozes down the kitchen counter. My stomach lurches at the thick and congested air. It's hard to breathe through all the floating particles. Dead flowers squish underneath me as I unintentionally kick up debris. A fragment of a  porcelain dish slides across the floor and crashes into the wall.  This has got to be a mistake. There's no way I came to the right address.

I feel like a stranger as I ascend the grand staircase with sluggish  steps. How could our home become so rotten and forgotten? I'm sure Kim Senior has people who look after it and check the grounds, so why is it in such a state of disarray? I walk down the hall and stare at the holes in the ceiling. A cold draft seeps through the cracks in the building and nips at my skin. I pass the library, my old bedroom, then Chris's, then my father's, and come to another room I can't place. Something is wrong. There's no way I could forget an entire room, especially one on the same floor as mine.

 The door creaks open on its own and an intense aroma of Lavender wafts into the hall. My eyes grow wide as I stand frozen on the threshold. The smell disarms me more than the mansion being in ruins does. The tangible scent garners a complicated reaction that I vaguely understand, it's familiar but repulsive. Despite every part of me wanting to flee and the fear pumping through my chest, I'm pulled inside.

Glass crunches underneath my feet as I fumble around the darkened bedroom. There are expensive gowns and designer shoes thrown all over a grimy bed, while broken perfume bottles and jewels clutter the dilapidated wooden floor. A large suitcase lays open near the walk-in closet with several duffel bags beside it as if someone had been packing. There's this undeniable sense of foreboding that I can't shake. While all the other rooms were empty, why does this one look lived in? I peel back the satin curtains that act as a divider between the bedroom and the powder room and halt in my tracks.

A ghostly woman brushes her bone straight hair at an old rusted vanity. She's dressed in pearls and a ruffled evening gown with a train that bellows out. The woman sits perfectly still, except for the occasional flick of her wrist as she smooths her jet-black hair into a bun. Although her back is to me, I feel like I know her. The reflection in the cracked mirror is distorted, a gray shadow that hovers over a rickety stool but the stiffness of her shoulders and the grace in her movement are uncanny. I know this room. 

The golden fixtures of her makeup vanity have lost their shine. The intricate rose designs are almost unrecognizable and the once smooth desk where she kept her lotions and creams is chipped and stained. It may be worn down, but her room is the same as the last night I saw her.