The Richmond Curse - {The Richmond Haunting 2}

Chapter Eight

The next morning, the words scrawled on Fiona's stomach had disappeared, a blessing in disguise; nevertheless, despite that, what didn't add up? A simple fact, how the girls had slept through it all.

But they had. Anyway, forget that; what was important right now, the old man could strike anywhere, and the family, already knowing this, had texted Chris loads of times.

But nothing. Just a page of normal life, such as Katrina taking her time to get ready for school. The reason — was — she still had isolation and was doing her best to avoid the punishment.

Now, as you may not know, it was just Katrina and her mum in the house with Fiona asking where the shoes were.

'I've told you; I can't find them; what else do you want me to do?'

'Well, looking for them might help.'

'How can I when I'm doing this?'

Fiona could see Katrina; sitting on the floor, crimping her hair in front of the mirror; not caring about her damn shoes.

'What by doing nothing — but sitting there, arse fucking about! It's school; you're going too, not a fashion show!'

Katrina said nothing — but carried on crimping her hair, doing so with careful precision, taking a layer of hair and trapping it in the crimpers.

Fiona, seeing this, grew impatient.

Not only was she on the verge of snapping, but also tired.

' I'm going to ask you once more. Can you please stop messing about with your hair and get ready for school?'

'Just give me a minute!'

That was it; Fiona said, 'Right!' and she marched over to the wall socket, unplugging the hair crimpers.

Katrina gave her mum a look as though she had been slapped across the face.

'What the heck! My God, what's your problem?'

'Your attitude? That's my problem.'

'Well, stop being funny, and let me do my hair.'

Fiona had to take a breather because if she didn't, the anger boiling in her hand would do something terrible. Slap Katrina, because the kid was pressing all the right buttons. Yet, Fiona had to do the right thing here. Hold back, and that's what she did.

'I'm going to ask you once more; can you please get ready for school?'

'How can I — with no school shoes?'

'You know what? They're probably upstairs.' Fiona said, and in no time, she was upstairs in the girl's bedroom. Searching high and low, in the wardrobe, under the bed, and there they were; the damn shoes.

Back downstairs, she threw the shoes at Katrina's feet.

'Get them on!'

Katrina, hearing the sharp tone in her mum's voice, knew she was on her final warning, and she put her shoes on. And by eight-thirty, she was gone from the house.

Now, with everybody out of the house, Fiona began to tidy up.

She wanted to keep busy; try not to think about her mum because it still hurt to think about her.

As she got on with the house chores, she kept thinking something might happen.

It did — nothing supernatural, but the school phoning up.

'What now?'

According to the teacher on the phone, Katrina had thrown a chair at the window during isolation.