Chiller (harry styles)

46: Laberita

The darkness makes me crave light. It's the kind that makes you remember all the terrifying nightmares that made your skin crawl when you were young and naive. I clutch Harry's hand as if it is my life saver. He holds it tightly, almost to the point where the blood surfaces to the skin. Without him I am lost. We turn at a corner, a room I know as Laberita, and halt. I turn to look at Harry, my eyes pleading him. This room isn't good.

A pounding begins in my ears and rushes to the forefront of my skull. I push backward, urging Harry to join me. We've searches several corridors and unused rooms in my house in less than a half hour, but I cannot search down here. I wish I would have paid attention to where we were going, but the darkness has subjected me to a certain blindness used not all by the eyes.

Harry tugs back on my head until he releases himself for a moment, then holds me again. He doesn't want to lose me when it's so difficult to see.

I point to the door. Its black steel structure makes me recall the venom...oh, how terrible that was!

"A long time ago my father told me a story, and at that the story was one I shall never forget. It involves the deepest secrets of our family and of this room, and though I don't know the details, I know the lock on this door should stay unmoved." I explain, and watch his lips press firmly into a hard line.

He takes a step forward in the darkness. I hear his shoes moving, and wonder all the while why I cannot find the courage to enter the room or even peek. The story was terribly haunting, yes, but Islan could be hiding in there. There's no way a wise rabbit like him would be afraid of any room if he has had enough bravery to be a part of what is happening now.

"What if he is in there?" Harry asks me.

"A woman named Laberita lived once, a great ancestor of mine, in Italy. She moved here, in short of the story, and died in that room. There are many theories as to the truth, but what my father told me wasn't a great ending to say the least. But I suppose without her death the money we have now and the power to our family name would not exist at all. But let me tell you this, Harry, that room, is cursed."

I give him my most treacherous stare an hope with what little light we have here in this hall that he may see it and understand.

"The most unfortunate of events was her demise. That room stays unused." I prompt, urging him to turn away.

"Because of fear." Harry says.

"Fear has nothing to do with it. My father said not to enter that-"

"After he told you a terrifying story about how your great ancestor died in that room as a sacrifice for your rich ass lifestyle. He's either lying, because he's hiding something in there, and therefore Laberita doesn't exist. Or he may be afraid. The thought of entering it himself scares the wits out of him, so he scared you as well. It's called cowardice and deceit. I do believe your daddy has a lot of that shit. Both shits." He says, rolling his eyes,and the reaches for the silver lock on Laberita's door.

"Wait!" I shout. "Don't do it yet. I...I...I need time. I need to figure something out."

I watch as his hand slowly retreats from its close distance to the lock, and internally sigh with relief.

"What is it you need to figure out?" He asks me.

I just lied to him. I have nothing to figure out. Well, nothing without delay. I need an excuse. I can't put him in danger. I can't let him go in that room. My father wouldn't lie about something like that, would he?

"The secret to Islan's hiding game! He's playing with us. He doesn't want to be found. We should just wait it out, okay? Just for a little while. And if he doesn't show up and nothing out of the ordinary happens we can continue the search." I suggest, and am well satisfied with my on the spot idea.