The House

Chapter 34 - Day 3: Trust Issues

My hand is shaking when I try to lift the mug of warm milk to my mouth to take a sip.

David stopped me from leaving the house when I ran away from him and the imaginary crows. At least, he would have if the rain and wind slamming into me when I finally managed to open the front door didn't make it virtually impossible for me to leave.

I saw the big branch lying on the patio, the one that stalked me earlier. He didn't lie about that. Seeing that twisted branch torn from one of the trees being abused by the wind and feeling the cold rain stinging against my skin, and fighting against the wind buffeting me without mercy are the things that brought me to my senses.

Where was I going to go? To my car? And then what?

The bridge is flooded; there's no way out of here. Unless David lied about that, would he lie? To what end? Is he trying to drive me insane? Once again, what for? If he wanted to harm me, he could've done it a hundred times already unless he's a sadistic monster that loves toying with his victims.

I glance at him where he's sitting at the kitchen island, and there is simply nothing threatening about him at all. He is quietly drinking his coffee, his eyes hooded and his hands steady. He doesn't look like a sadistic monster. He looks like a truly beautiful, kind man. In fact, looking at him is causing my fear to ebb away bit by bit. My heart is now picking up its pace for completely different reasons.

I really like him; I don't want him to be evil...

When I forced the door shut, preventing the wind from breaking the lamp already lying flat on the entrance table after its previous invasion, David wrapped his arms around me and held me until my panic subsided and I could breathe again. He finally brought me to the kitchen, folded the blanket he'd draped over me earlier when I fell asleep around my shoulders, guided me to a seat and made me some warm milk. 

Could he really be that kind if he is the one responsible for all the scary things happening to me?

Is it even possible for him to cause me to sleepwalk and dream vivid dreams and paint wild paintings? He wasn't even here until today. Or was he? Is he even here now?

"I'm losing my mind," I sigh, trying again to sip the warm milk.

"No, you're not," David says with a certainty that forces me to look at him again. How can he be so sure?

"How can you say that?" I ask, shaking my head. "I nearly brained you with a poker, thinking you're a blooming crow!" I exclaim, and he just shrugs and grins at me. Perhaps he is the one who is insane.

"I'm fine, Belle. You hit like a girl."

"I'll do it a bit harder next time, then," I grumble, knowing that he is just trying to make me feel less guilty about attempting to kill him. I'm finally able to take a couple of successful sips from the mug, feeling the milk's warmth spreading through my cold body. "This is nice, thanks," I try to smile at David. My heart and mind are still torn between trusting and fearing him, but the sweetened, warm milk is going a long way towards making me friendlier.

"I think it's only fair that I tell you that my grandmother and my father had similar experiences in this house, and neither of them had lost their mind."

Blinking in surprise, I gape at David. What is he talking about now?

"Nobody has tried to claim me as their child yet," I tell him, not sure whether the news he just gave me is reassuring or disturbing.

"My father was only five years old when they left this place," he clarifies, but that tells me nothing, except that there once lived a terrified five-year-old boy in this house. The idea is making me extremely sad and is not having a positive effect on my fear.