I Loved You First

Chapter III

The house was made of wood and stone, with elegant furniture and long hallways, who were hiding chambers behind their doors.

It was night and we were already tired and ready to found a place where to rest our heads. I tried to be polite and show gratitude to our benevolent host, but that lady was scaring the hell out of me. I was glad that I was no longer in that immense foyer, my moves scrutinized by her icy eyes. While I was talking with Mrs. Westwood I've heard voices coming from another chamber, and my thought flew at her kids. I thanked the heavens that they didn't show up. I never met them, but it was enough to know their mother to make an impression. I didn't want to judge them too harsh, considering their roots, but I was a stranger into a terrifying place. My mind was creating a thousand scenarios.

Carrie guided us toward our rooms. My mother was sharing the room with Matt, who was still afraid of darkness, while I took the chamber next to them. The hallway was obscure, only a few lamps casting a hollow light, enough to not fall and smash your head on the marbled floor. It was a considerable distance between the foyer and the place where we were about to live for the next weeks, months.. Mrs. Westwood wanted to keep us far away from her. It was a good thing.

' Mrs. Westwood doesn't like any kind of noise, or kids crying. ' Carrie said and I was ready to burst in laughter. I stared at her  and then I remembered where I was. Of course, that lady was probably hating everything with a beating heart.

' She is sensitive these days . Mr. Westwood passed away a few weeks ago and she is still in pain. It will be better to avoid that subject, ma'am. ' Carrie turned her green eyes toward my mother, who nodded and placed her arm around my brother' s shoulders, into a protective way.

' It's not my intention to cause any issues or to talk about a topic who is clearly not my business. Is your mistress choice if she will want to say something about that subject. I can assure you that I won't be the one who will cross the line in such manner.' my mother was calm, accentuating the words without being impertinent, and Carrie inclined her head.

' Good night. ' I sensed in her voice that she was relieved. I wondered why. Why Mr. Westwood' s death needed to have a warning sign. I never met him, and I couldn't say anything about it. Now it was sure that I won't have the pleasure to know him at all. To be honest, I always thought that Mrs. Westwood was a widow .

Carrie let us alone in the hallway. My mother leaned forward and kissed my forehead.

' Go to bed and stop your brain. You've heard the maid's words. Keep your mouth shut and your eyes open. We cannot trust anyone. ' my mother was playing with Matt' s curly hair, her eyes entirely on me.

'You always say that we can't put our trust in them, but I need to know why. ' I let my thoughts to form words and my mother sighted. She stretched her hand and caressed my cheek, like I was a little kid who needed affection to behave properly.

' Talking about the deaths, while you are staying in the place where they once lived is not the smartest choice to make. '

' Oh, Mr. Westwood was worse than Mrs. Westwood?! ' it didn't seem possible, but I was curious to know.

My mother smiled, a trace of melancholy covering her eyes.

' No, he was nothing like her. The only thing that they had in common was that they had money. '

' Sad, that he didn't have enough to save himself from the death. ' I said without thinking and my mother let a low sound to escape from her lips. She thought us to appreciate everything we had. Good or bad.

' Yes, very sad. But some things can't be undone. Is in our nature. Our sins are speaking louder than the money, and in our last seconds we don't have the time on our side. That's why we should live carefully. '
Her brown eyes were searching the walls and I followed her gaze.

I wanted to ask her if she was in that house before, but she already guessed my question.

' Is the second time when I am staying between these walls. The last time I was young, very young. It was Patricia's wedding day. ' my mother swallowed and shook her head lightly, like a winged bug was bothering her.

I raised my eyebrows, wanting to hear more about that story. I couldn't quite imagine that it was a day when Mrs. Westwood was wearing a white gown, waiting  to say her vow.

'She was a happy bride? Didn't she? ' I was following the patterns of the wallpaper. Brown and a dirty ivory, roses and triangles sculpted in the wood. I touched the wall to feel the material, it wasn't wood, but something similar, strong and old.

' She was smiling. ' my mother said slowly and Matt whined, crossing his arms at his chest and looking at us.

' Mom, I want to sleep. Reyna's questions can wait, but I can't. 'he was struggling to pronounce the words, but he was a smart boy. The tiredness was making him to appear even younger.

' Fine, Matt. I know you and your dreams have a special relationship. ' I said and ruffled his hair. He was looking like a girl, with his blonde, curly hair touching the curves of his cheekbones. He hated when my mother or the hairdresser tried to cut his hair, that's why his number one enemy were the scissors. I was mocking him for looking like a savage, which wasn't entirely true , because his features were delicate enough to compensate for his messy hair.

'Good night, mom. Good night, Matty. '
He rolled his eyes at me and my mother chuckled, pleased that the discussion came to an end.

I opened the door to find a simple, but comfortable bedroom. The room was surprisingly bigger than the one that I used to have back home. A bed, perfectly arranged, covered in white sheets was placed on the right wall, across from it, in the left corner was a table made of oak and a mirror with an interesting fram, who was pushing me to stare at my reflection.
I made a step forward and I looked at myself. My dark blonde hair was getting lighter at the ends, and my face was like a mask, purple circles under my plain brown eyes. I was happy with myself. Well, I knew that I wasn't a special beauty, but it didn't bother me. I wasn't tall, but I wasn't too short either. I didn't have curves or something to show up, but maybe the puberty worked into a different way on me. I was like that room.. simple. Not boring, just simple. Probably, I was a little boring though.

The wardrobe caught my attention, because it was large enough to fit an entire store in it. I strolled toward the furniture, my hands wrapped around the handles, opening the doors for my eyes to see the insides.

Gowns , blouses, pants.. Everything that a girl should need and want. It was fascinating. I was never a fanatic over clothes, but what I admired inside that armoir made me to reconsider my opinions. I let my fingers to graze a violet dress, the material was fluid and silky, but I needed something comfortable to wear for the night. At the base of the wardrobe, I saw two drawers. Inside I found undergarments, some of them made me blush, but I kept searching for a nightgown. I found plenty, all of them made of lace and even velvet. I chose the one who wasn't to reveling and was covering my knees. I studied myself in the mirror, and it was looking odd on me. I was missing my pyjamas, with large pants and a shirt who was letting me to move freely. The blue chiffon dress made me feel naked and I hide myself under the blanket. It was warm and the sheets were smelling at old life and hyacinths. I looked at the fireplace and I wanted to pretend that I was home, but I couldn't. My home burned to the ground thanks to those flames.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I was craving a good sleep, even if I had trouble sleeping on someone else's pillow . My eyelids became tired of my complains and I fall asleep thinking about roses and triangles sculpted in the wood.