On the Other Side of Darkness

Chapter 1

I grab a box off of the back of the moving truck and walk into my living room. The room is filled with boxes and old furniture that was left behind. My dad, my little sister, Carmen, and I had just moved to San Francisco. Our dad got a new job as a Web Developer so we had to move here. My sister was really bummed about leaving all her friends in Georgia but I didn't really care. I didn't have many friends back home so this was like a new start for me.

I walk back outside to get another box and notice a boy next door. He had brown hair and blue eyes and was dressed in a red flannel, black jeans, black converse and a black beanie. He smiles and waves at me and I wave back. He starts to walk over to me and I put the box down. "Hey, you moving in?" he asks. "Yeah, I'm from Georgia," I say. Why did I say that it's not like he cares? "Cool. Can I help you bring in some boxes?" he offers.

"Sure," I smile and grab a box. He grabs a box and follows me into the living room. "So how are you liking your new house?" he asks while setting the box down. "Oh it's okay. It's a lot bigger than my old house," I say and go to grab another box. "That's good. Did you hear anything about this house?" he asked.

"No why?" I reply while he grabs another box. "Well um..oh just never mind it's nothing really," he says and puts the box down. "Okay..." I say suspiciously. "Well anyways, I have to get back because my friend Colby is coming over later and I have to clean my room before he gets there," he says while walking outside.

"Alright well I'll see you around," I say. "And what should I call you when that happens?" he smiles. "Charlotte, and you?" I reply. "Aden. It's nice to meet you, Charlotte," he says. "You too," I reply and he leaves.

Well that was weird. I wonder what he was going to tell me about the house. Probably nothing. "Charlotte!" I hear my little sister call. "What is it, Carmen?" I yell back and she runs to me. "Where are my boxes?" she asks. "I don't know just look for them," I say. "Can you do it?" she whines.

"No. They're your boxes so you look for them yourself," I say. "But they're heavy," she continues. "I don't care, ask dad or something. I have to carry my boxes too, you know," I say. "Fine. But next time you want me to do something for you, I'm not going to do it," she says and stomps away.

She's so annoying. I grab one of my boxes and carry it upstairs to my room. I notice that there's a desk in it, along with a mirror that was left behind. I wonder why no one has taken it. I would get rid of it except for the fact that I like it, it's old and vintage-looking, and I like old things. My room is a lot bigger than the one in my old house so I have more room to put stuff. I set the box next to my closet and go back downstairs to get another one, when suddenly I hear something fall.

I run downstairs and find Carmen struggling with a box. "Carmen, what happened?" I asked. "I dropped it," she says. "Well duh, but why did you try to carry it by yourself?" I ask. "Because you told me to do it myself because they were my boxes...DUH!" she snaps.

"I told you to ask dad," I say. "Well he's not here," she says. "Where is he?" I ask. "He said he had to run to work, something about a faulty web domain, I don't know. I never understand what he says when he talks about computers," she says.

"Well do you want me to help you carry the box?" I ask. "Well duh, I asked you to help earlier. God, don't you ever listen?" she snaps. "Do you wanna be here for an hour trying to carry the box by yourself or do you want me to help you?" I ask sternly.

"Help me," she rolls her eyes and I pick up the box.

...

I walk up to my room, carrying up the last box that I need to unpack. I had already unpacked my other boxes so my room was pretty much settled. There were old paintings on the walls, a bookshelf in the corner filled with all my favorite books, my laptop on the desk, and all my clothes in the closet. All I needed to unpack were my journals.

I love to write. I've been writing since 6th grade and I've never stopped loving it. I write short stories that are mostly mystery, but sometimes I like to write about stuff that happens to me. Suddenly, the door opens downstairs. "Charlotte! Carmen! I'm home!" my dad yells. I walk downstairs and see my dad in the kitchen.

"Hey dad. How was work?" I ask. "Oh you know it was good. There was a problem with the web domain. A virus was found in the hard drive but we managed to fix it. But it was a hell of a lot of work to-" "Oh dad, I don't really care. I was hoping for a simple answer," I say.

"Oh, well it was good then," he says. "Are you going to make dinner or do you want me to?" I ask. "No I got it," he says. "Alright," I say and walk back into the living room only to find Carmen listening at the door. "Hey Charlotte," she says quietly. "What do you want?" I ask annoyed.

"Can you please try to be a little nice to dad. I know you guys haven't gotten along so well ever since mom died but please try to be nice. I want to start fresh in San Francisco and I just want us to be a happy family like in those movies that we always watch," she says.

"Carmen, you know that dad and I aren't that close. I'm trying the best that I can not to be mad at him," I say. "I just don't want you guys to be fighting all the time," she says.

I sigh. "Okay. If it makes you feel better then I'll try to be a little nicer," I say and she smiles. "Thanks, Charlotte," she exclaims. "No problem," I smile and continue to walk upstairs.

My dad and I used to be really close when I was younger but after mom died it's like she took a part of us with her. It took Carmen and I a while to get over her death but for dad it was like nothing. Sometimes I even feel like he never even loved her.

"Charlotte, can you do me a favor?" he yells from the kitchen. "What?" I ask. "Can you dust off the attic for me because I'm going to put a couple of boxes up there?" he asks. "Yeah, sure," I say and go to the supply closet next to the bathroom.

I grab a Swiffer duster and pull the string so that the ladder to the attic lowers.  I start climbing the ladder. It smells terrible up here. I should really spray some Febreze up here. I start looking around for a light switch.

All I see up here are boxes, spider webs, and a window covered by an old curtain. I walk over to the window and open the curtains to get some light in here. I finally find a light switch in the corner and walk over to it. I flick the switch but it doesn't turn on. I flick it again and still nothing.

I guess it doesn't work. It doesn't matter, I mean the sunlight is fine. I look around and notice a mahogany treasure chest in the corner. "What is that?" I whisper. I walk over to it and crouch down. It's really dusty and there's a lock on the chest. Oh well. No sense in trying to open it.

...

I walk back downstairs after about 30 minutes. "Dad, I'm done!" I yell and walk to the bathroom to wash the dust off my hands. Once I'm done, I walk to my desk and take out a journal. I start to write:

I look at the body that lays on the ground. This is the third girl that has been killed this month and I think that somehow they're all linked together. They all died from ingestion of toxic chemicals...