Killings Of Midnight |✔️|

Chapter 3 (Edited)

Damaria.

Damaria stood up and walked to grab a few files from the black cabinet. She was purposely trying to avoid eye contact with her nephew. In some way she felt it was her fault. But she wasn't willing to admit it. Worse she wasn't willing to let Ryder feel angry at her for it. She always had Ryder's trust and she wasn't going to loose it. Not now. "So how do you feel about the move?" She flipped through the various documents as she attempted to keep the conversation going. Her eyes ever so briefly flickering to her nephew every few seconds or so.

"I would feel better if dad had told me a few weeks ago, instead of last night. I bet he told you months ago." Ryder complained, he ran a tanned hand through his straight black hair. It flipped back on to his forehead ever so slightly. Ryder had a habit of running his hand through his hair whenever he was frustrated. Damaria was sure that soon his hair would be sticking up all over the place.

"No such thing." She disagreed. And it was true. "Your father had only told me about the move this morning." Damaria calming stated, she placed the file on her desk and went over to the shelf on the other side of the room. The black wooden shelf was a foot taller than Damaria and held random pens, papers, books and held other stationary and non stationary equipment. She had tried to keep it as organized as she could. Searching for things wasted time. And time is precious.

"He only told you this morning? That's low." Ryder's eyes widened. "And you just let me stay with you?" Damaria heard the surprise in his voice. And in some way it hurt. She was always there for him, why was he all of sudden surprised if she let him stay.

"He is my brother. And you are my nephew." Damaria calmly answered.

"Yeah but, didn't he warn you or something about me being bad?"

"What ever do you mean?" She was genuinely curious as to what Lance thinks of his own son, or at least tells him. She's already told him on countless occasions that Ryder may be a teen but he's not a child. Therefore he should not be treated like one. But Lance was always thick headed and blind.

"Aunt Damaria you know that I know that my dad told you that I was a teenager and blah blah blah..." Ryder rolled his eyes. Damaria was well aware that he wasn't too happy with his dad at the moment. But she wanted to keep him busy so he wouldn't continue to think about whatever spat they had. She needed to either talk this out or force him to be distracted.

"Yes well we have all been teenagers, so it should not be a problem." Damaria explained. Speaking from complete experience.

"If you say so." Ryder mindless agreed.

"Yes now, Max is making some lunch so take this and go buy something to eat." Damaria handed Ryder some money and turned to go back to work. She wanted him to eat so he wouldn't be thinking about the move and so she didn't have to cook. Not that she could anyways.

Ryder stared down at the money in her hand then back at Damaria. "Dad owns the hotel, I can just get whatever I want." He shrugged, nonchalantly.

"The money is more for the staff, they work hard. They deserve the money." Ryder watched his aunt. He never understood her, sometimes she was ready to help the poor and other times she didn't care much at all. Damaria could sense the gears working in the boy's brain. It sometimes made her curious and wonder if he and Lance ever thought the same things when Lance was younger.

***

As Ryder walked out of the office he noticed most of the staff were running around. The museum seemed to be in chaos. With so many tourists and city people he realized it was hard for the small staff to manage the large building. One woman stopped in front of him, she wore a purple and black athletic outfit and seemed to be ready for the gym. Her energy was only proving a point. She was bouncing on the heels of her feet, as if standing was a difficulty for her.