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[3] Mrs. Jones

CHAPTER III

Mrs.Jones

It was just another nightmare, but I can still feel the pain in my hand.

When I look over my hand, the long cut is there and blood is still flowing from it.
I rush to the washroom to clean the wound, red circling down the drain.

I go back to my room and change into a black long sleeved shirt so no one can see it.

As I go downstairs, I hear someone talking.

"So how many dolls do you have?"

"That's so great. You're so lucky to have all of them. I just have Nola and Linnie." Nina is speaking to herself while waving her blonde and redheaded dolls in the air.

"Wanna play with me and my dolls?"

Who is she talking to?

"Nina..." I call, and she stops talking to herself. "... who were you talking to just now?" I ask her.

"Uhmm... that was... just—I'm just playing by myself," she answers nervously.

"OK, that's a great game for you to play," I say with a bit of a tease.

"It's better than waiting for you to play with me," Nina snaps at me.

"Nina, I'm not a kid to play games with you anymore."

"Oh! Then why is Mia playing with me when she's your age?"

"What are you talking about? And who's Mia?", I ask, giving Nina a confused look.

But she just ignores me as if I don't even exist.

"Nina, who is Mia?" I ask again.

"Who is Mia?"

"Linnie always plays with me. She's not like you," Nina replies, waving one of the dolls.

"Is Linnie of my age? She's just a toy," I say, retorting all of her stupid questions and answers.

*****

Coming downstairs, I find Madeline on the couch, watching television and eating popcorn.

I sit beside her and she has to move slightly. Some random, funny show is on, and we are enjoying ourselves until the signal goes out. Irritated, Madeline throws her pillow at the TV, and somehow, that brings it back on.

A few moments pass, and I'm already bored, so I think some fresh air will do me good. I put on my shoes and go outside the mansion, avoiding the area around the fountain. Instead, I go to the garden and sit on the swing. Just yesterday, I remember that the swing was rising on its own. I look to the mansion.

It's truly beautiful from the outside; there are many windows—indicating three rooms on each floor from the front view. I look at my window before my eyes trail to the room upstairs. I feel as if someone is watching me from there.

It's probably Avon, so I ignore the feeling.

There's still time before dark, so I'd like to see our neighborhood.

As I come to the main road. I only see two houses opposite of each other. I walk toward the first house, and it takes me ten minutes to reach it. The state of both houses indicates that no one is staying here.

Someone puts their hand on my shoulder, making me jump and turn around.

An old lady is standing in front of me. She's dressed in a pink blouse and gray skirt. Her hair being white in color shows her age.

"Hi, I'm Emma," I say, extending my hand toward her.

She doesn't shake my hand, but rather gives me a small smile.

"I'm Claret Jones, the caretaker of this house." Mrs. Jones points to the house.

"Have you lost your way?" she asks.

"No, I haven't. I live in the neighborhood," I reply.

She does not speak for a while.

"I think it's about time for you to go home. It will be dark soon," Claret says, looking at the sky.

Isn't she weird, to be talking with someone like this?

"All right, bye, Mrs. Jones. See you later." I begin to walk, but Claret stops me.

"When you go back, if you see anyone on the road, don't talk to that person. Just keep walking straight and don't look back," she says in a low voice.

First of all, there's no one who lives here. Now, who would walk down this road except this weird lady? And she's telling me not to talk to anyone.

I just nod my head and walk away. I reach home just fine.

See Mrs. Jones, I didn't see anyone on the road except you, and now I'm home without any trouble, I think to myself happily for getting home safe and sound.

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