BLACKHOUSE [H.S.]

Forty-Three

Chapter song:

Scene One - James Dean & Audrey Hepburn by Sleeping With Sirens

-

"Can I please take off this blindfold?" Katie whines, placing her hand over the black bandana covering her eyes.

Keeping my left hand on the steering wheel, I use my right to pull her arm away from her face. "Absolutely not," I scold her. "We'll be there soon."

She groans loudly as she crosses her arms over her chest in frustration, making me chuckle quietly.

"Is this it?" She asks, my brows furrowing in confusion as my eyes flick in her direction.

"Hm?"

"Is this when I find out you're actually a serial killer, and I'm just another one of your victims?"

I roll my eyes, a smile growing on my lips. "You're so dramatic," I laugh, shaking my head. "Princess, if I wanted you dead, you'd be gone already."

She giggles to herself, resting her head back against the seat's headrest as I slow the car down, and turn the steering wheel to the left to pull onto a dirt road. The car shakes each time we drive over a rock, or bump in the road, and Katie grips the door to stabilize herself.

After a few minutes, we finally reach a clearing that looks out over the city. The sun is setting, casting purple and orange hues on the clouds, and the surrounding aspen trees.

I stop the car, putting it in park and unbuckling my seatbelt.

"Are we here?" Katie wonders, letting her own seatbelt go.

"Yes, we're here," I chuckle. That's only the fifth time she's asked me that since we left my flat.

I open the door, jogging over to her side of the car to help her out. With her hand in mine, I carefully lead her over to the spot I have picked out to watch the fireworks.

"Okay, now you can take the blindfold off," I tell her.

I watch as she reaches up to pull the bandana up, and off of her head. She glances around curiously, gasping when her eyes land on the blanket laid out over the dry grass. A large cooler lay in the corner to hold the colorful quilt down, with two plates, and two wine glasses situated on the fabric.

Her head snaps in my direction, her mouth agape as she stares at me. "A picnic?" She asks quietly.

I hum, nodding my head in response before making my way over to the blanket. I crouch down, opening the red cooler to pull out the bottle of Benovia La Pommeraie Chardonnay to uncork it.

"Come sit down," I say softly, gesturing to the blanket with a nod. "Please."

A smile appears on her face before she walks over, and plops down on the blanket, crossing her legs in front of her. I reach for one of the empty wine glasses, and fill it halfway to hand it to her. I fill my own glass before taking a seat next to her, lifting the white wine towards her.