On Hallowed Ground

Chapter Four - I See Dead People

It takes a while before we end up at Austin's house - in fact, twenty minutes, to be exact. The first thing I see is the large two-storey house, so typical of what kids would call a "haunted house". The wood of the house is a greying white, and there is a lonely swing on the birchwood porch. The few steps leading up to the house seem treacherously creaky, and I can see garlic hanging by the doorway. In the front yard is a pink-blossomed tree, hanging over the path and showering petals onto the slabs below the low-hanging branches.

"Nice...nice place." I mumble, my face still burning scarlet thanks to Austin the Pervert.

"Thanks. My grandmother stayed here before me; when she died she left me the house. Well, my sister and I, but..." He nudges open the front door with his hip, still carrying me as he steps into the surprisingly brightly-lit house. "Harley, I'm home!" He yells. I gulp; there's someone here to see me being carried like a frickin' bride?!

I see a blond-haired figure all-but-glide down the staircase to our left, and see a pale-blue-faced girl with dark-ringed eyes wearing a shroud of black that must be some kind of a funeral dress.

"Well, don't you make just such a beautiful princess, kid." The girl smirks at me, dark eyes glaring. "Who's this, Ozzy?"

"Drew." I mumble out. "Drew-"

"Drew Dickinson; he's in my English class." Austin explains for me. "I caught him in a spot of bother, and brought him back here to get him cleaned up."

"Oh. Didn't think you'd be picking up guys so soon." The girl, who I'm guessing is Harley, winks, before brushing past us and through to a room to our right. Austin follows her, still carrying me; I refuse to protest, knowing he'll only find a way to embarass me again. He seems to be awfully good at that, to be honest.

"This is Harley, my older sister." Austin explains as he carries me into a large antique-looking kitchen. The cabinets are all dark, the sink a large ceramic one like those ones they had in the olden days. Austin plops me down carefully on the scratched table in the centre of the room, and Harley just studies me as Austin rummages through several drawers behind me, dumping tubs and rolls of bandages on the table beside me.

"Nasty injuries, these." Harley says as her brother proceeds to fix up my face as best as he can; he wipes my wounds clean with alcoholwipes (which I wince and protest pathetically over), he cleans the blood from my face, even goes so far as to check me from head to toe to make sure nothing is seriously injured. Everything is done with such care and utter precision, and the whole time he barely touches my skin, as though he's scared he'll hurt me or something.

"Looks better now. Not healed, but not as bad." Harley smiles; her English accent is as broad as he brother's as she speaks. "You're a miracle worker, Ozzy."

"I wouldn't say that." Austin smiles; even so, his cheeks are flushed pink from the praise he's recieving from his sister. "Not quite 'water into wine', but it'll help it heal quicker. You feeling any better, Drew?"

I shrug, and move weakly and slowly to drop off the edge of the table. Instead of standing like I normally would, pain shoots through my right ankle, and I cry out in agony, dropping towards the floor. Austin and Harley both reach out to catch me, but it's Austin's arms that I fall into before I hit the floor.

"Hey, where...where are you taking me?!" I protest as he swings me up into a bridal lift and carries me out of the kitchen.

"To sit down somewhere. Your ankle is damaged, so you can't walk on it." He tells me simply.

"Then how am I going to get home?! People will talk, you know!"

"We'll sort something. In the meantime," he drops me down onto a large blue sofa, the cushions soft against my aching body, "you shall rest."