Morbid Bite

III :: The Return Home

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MORBID BITE

Chapter Three: The Return Home

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Nicholas rested his hand on the hard-wooden bedroom door, his eyes tightly shut, and his lips pursed in a thin line. The headache that banged against his skull made it almost impossible to think straight. For almost a week he had not been able to sleep; the haunting image of Belle's dead father always flashed behind his eyes when they began to feel heavy. His whole body was tense as he moved his white knuckled fist down to the door handle. It was not often Nicholas came to this end of the house, he had made it his mission to segregate this wing from his living area. The dust that settled around the walls and under the doors was thick, even with Mrs Coté keeping it maintained. The smell was off, old books was too pleasant to describe it, the smell was stale and unloving. The cold metal stung his sweaty palm as he turned the handle and entered the room.

Stillness engulfed the space in front of him, every piece of furniture was covered in stained white, dust sheets. The ghost figures send shivers down Nicholas' spine. The daylight from the shuttered window only just lit up a splinter of the room, giving it an almost blue tint and where the sunlight shone through, particles of dust swirled around in miniature thunderstorms.

The smell became stronger in this room, not even Mrs Coté dared step foot among the ghostly figures. Nicholas was drawn to the sheet which was draped across the furthest wall. He reached out his arm, his arm shacking as he wandered over to it. He curled his thumb under his fingers and brushed the fabric with his knuckles, so lightly that the sheet was not disturbed. Reaching out his fingers he went to move the drapery but as his skin connected a shock made him recoil, terrified of what lay beneath. He knew that once he looked upon what lay behind the sheet there was no going back. His long fingers took a hold of the rough fabric and he pulled, sending a cloud of dust up into the air. He turned away to cover his face with his hands, but as the cloud settled his eyes linked with the painting. A beautiful woman stared down at him, her luscious brown hair was painted glossy as it fell over her delectate shoulders. Next to her stood a man, his stern expression was interrupted by smile lines that were scattered across his wrinkled face. On the woman's lap sat a young boy, his large grey eyes visibly wet on the canvas. Just beside the woman stood an older boy his hands tightly holding the collar of his jacket, his stance identical to his father's.

Nicholas's couldn't remove his stare, his family as he they had once been, preserved for ever.

The heavy curtain rested on the little boy's back, his breath streaming up the cold glass of the window as he watched his brother shouting his name. Nicholas had hidden himself in the dining room, knowing his brother would not dare enter after their father had forbidden the boys to play in there: they had smashed some of the best china and almost given Mrs Coté a heart attack.

Nicholas could just see his mother strolling round the grounds in her maternity dress, holding the umbrella to shield her pale skin from the unforgiving sun, a smile spread across her face as she saw Raúl running behind the oak tree searching for Nicholas.

The young boy sighed and lightly tapped the window to see if his brother would notice but it was a feeble effort and his brother ran out towards the lake. He knew it would be awhile before anyone found him. He sat down on the window seat, bringing up his short chubby legs. He had just had his sixth birthday and father had brought him a wooden solider. He reached his hand into his ripped pocket and took out his treasured toy, running his hand over its rough hair and flicking the wooden sword. He smiled, dimples appearing in his rosy checks as he began to play, blocking out the world around him.