Ambrosia Night

Chapter 4; A strange man

Emma lay in bed; her skin still damp from the shower she took. Sitting there all she could remember was the voice. Every time she closed her eyes to sleep she was brought back. After grabbing a few belongings from her Aunts apartment, Adam had taken her to an expensive looking house in the suburbs of the city. After she had calmed down, she relayed as much as she could to him while he sat in silence looking at her intently. Realising after a period that he wouldn't get anything else from her that night, he showed her the bathroom and her bedroom. Turning the lock on her door before walking to her bed, 'just in case he is an axe murder' she reasoned knowing all too well that there probably would be nothing she could do to stop him and he was probably the least of her problems.

Through the cracks in the curtain, moonlight shone in illuminating the room in a dull blue glow. Looking around she saw the outlines of a dressing table covered with perfume bottles, half used tubes of moisturizer, jewellery and an old tattered hairbrush. 'Who lived in this house with Adam?' she wondered. Some many questions remained unanswered about what was going on. On her conscious the sound of her mother's last words and the forbidding instructions of her aunt weighed heavy. Somehow it felt like her fault that they died and she survived; like she was cursed.

Unlike the centre of the city, Emma couldn't hear cars in the distance. It was instead replaced with the shrieking calls of foxes knocking over bins. With each second that passed it became more difficult to keep her eyes open, finally, she gave up letting the restless sleep wash over her.

Waking up in the morning she paused disorientated for a minute. Where was she? Emma pondered rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. It only took a few seconds before the events of previous night returned to her making her blink back the tears. Taking another deep breath she pulled herself out of bed with the intention of preoccupying herself. Opening the door Emma almost stumbled over the neat pile of clothing left outside her door. On them lay a scribbled note;

These look about your size.

Don't blame me if they aren't.

Glancing down the vacant corridor, she stooped down grabbing the clothes before returning to her room. The clothes themselves weren't to Emma's taste; luminous pink leggings, a pastel green top and some sort of sleeveless neon pullover. Ignoring the colour catastrophe that met her in the mirror she was happy to be in some clean clothes again. The distinct smell of on-brand fabric softener met her nose, it was the same one that her mum had used.

These thoughts were interrupted only by her grumbling stomach that refused to be ignored. Exiting the room she tiptoed over the landing, making sure not to make a noise as she went. The house remained silent except for the distinct sound of a kettle boiling from the kitchen. Following it she came to see Adam sat, back towards her, with a pile of paper and a cup of tea. He didn't seem to hear her come down the stairs.

The notes were in a language she had never seen before; a mix between Russian, Arabic and Greek. Weird.

"Morning" she greeted him. He looked up from his notes and paused before replying. He seemed to survey her expression, cautious of her reaction. "How did you sleep?" she asked trying to break the silence.

"Pretty well except that the moonlight kept hitting me in the face all night. You?" he tactfully ignored commenting on her sleep deprived state and her disheveled hair that she had scrapped back.

"About the same" she walked over to the kettle and poured herself a cup of tea. "What's that?" she asked.

"Oh this" he said pulling all the paper into a rough pile. "This is some stuff that might help me figure out what happened to your aunt"