Secrets of Silver Lake [Book One]

12

I had collapsed onto my bed. I didn't even bother getting undressed. Saxon must have gone to his room after closing my door. When I awoke in the morning, my head was pounding. I vaguely remembered coming home and was instantly embarrassed that Saxon had seen me that way. Mrs. Harrison knocked on my door and entered slowly.

"Good morning," she said quietly.

I groaned and hid under my blankets.

"Are you feeling okay?" she asked.

"No," I groaned. "I think I'm sick. Can I just stay in bed today?"

"Of course. You don't have to ask permission. I'm sure your grandmother will be fine with that. I believe she has a busy day actually, although I'm not entirely sure with what. Did something happen at the party last night?"

My eyes shot open as I hid under my blanket. "What do you mean?"

"It's probably nothing," she said as she straightened up my room. "I thought I overheard your grandmother say someone was hurt at the party, but I'm probably wrong. I'll bring you up some breakfast and juice, okay?"

My memory of Chad attacking me flashed in my head. What happened after I left there last night? I had seen Chad jolt backwards off of me and then moan in pain, but I didn't know what caused that reaction. I also didn't think he was really injured. In pain, maybe. But injured so much that it somehow had gotten back to Grandmother? Chad must have told Jenna, and she probably told our grandmother. But if that happened the way I thought it did, my grandmother would have brought up my name, and Mrs. Harrison would've heard that. She didn't say anything to me about my being involved.

After breakfast, I showered and got dressed, feeling much better than before. I told Mrs. Harrison that I would stay in bed and didn't want to be disturbed, but after a while I grew bored. I wanted to walk around the house again, including the third floor this time, if possible. With Grandmother having a busy afternoon, I figured that's when I could take advantage of my time and explore.

Once I stepped out into the hallway, I heard voices yelling and I froze. My aunt's voice bellowed out of Saxon's room.

"You can't do stuff like that!"

"I didn't do it!" Saxon yelled.

"Chad said you did. Are you telling me he's lying?" my aunt countered.

"Yeah, he's lying!" Saxon said. "Is that so hard to believe?"

I tiptoed closer to his room and listened.

"Sax," my aunt said. "He's saying you attacked him last night. He's really hurt! I need you to tell me what really happened in case he presses charges."

Saxon sighed. "I don't know what happened! When I saw him by the lake, he was already on the ground, hurt. I didn't touch him! I don't care if you believe me or not!"

I ducked into another room before Saxon stormed out of his room. My aunt called after him, but he didn't stop. I wanted to find him and ask him what was going on, but judging from how angry he sounded, I didn't want to question him just then. After I heard my aunt leave, I wandered around the second floor alone. Too many thoughts of Chad and Saxon being blamed for Chad's injuries swam through my head.

The second floor was massive. I passed all of the bedrooms, multiple bathrooms, a game room, and storage areas until I opened a door that I expected was a closet. But, when I peeked inside, it wasn't a closet at all. It was about the same size as a typical coat closet except nothing was in it. Against its back wall was another door with a lock on the handle. I lightly tried the handle, assuming it wouldn't budge, but it swung open to reveal a narrow staircase.

The stairs were unfinished wood and at first I just figured it was a back staircase for the staff. I just didn't know why the door was hidden behind an empty closet and had a lock. Since I was exploring the house anyway, I closed both doors behind me and started going up. The stairs creaked lightly under my feet. It wasn't until I got all the way that I realized I had found a secret way to the third floor.

At the top of the stairs was another door. It led to the third floor, but you would never know it was a part of the rest of the house. The first and second floors were kept immaculately clean and decorated in Grandmother's Victorian style. As I walked into a hallway on the top story, it smelled musty. There were boxes stacks randomly around, but this wasn't a typical attic.

It was dark and dusty, and in all honesty, totally creepy. I swatted cobwebs away and couldn't imagine Grandmother allowing her home to be in that condition. At the end of the hallway, the floor opened up so it was a large rectangular room. I couldn't see much at first. It was so dark up there.

Against the farthest wall, a four poster bed sat. It's mahogany wood was layered with dust and I couldn't understand why there were blankets and pillows on it. I walked towards it go get a closer look and noticed the middle of the bed was lumpy. Lying against propped up pillows, I saw him.

I let out a scream before covering my mouth with my hand. An elderly man lay under the blankets with only his top half visible. I stared in disbelief. The man was barely breathing, his eyes shut tight and mouth gaping open. I didn't want to get any closer. There was only one person that man could be.

He had to be my grandfather.

I took a few steps back, but couldn't take my eyes off of him. I had been told my grandfather had died, yet there he was. Why would he be kept on the third floor of that palatial home stuck in a bed without anything else? None of it made any sense. Walking backwards, I stopped when I bumped up against an old roll top desk. It was an antique with beautifully carved wood. Its matching chair had a forest green velvet seat. I ran my finger across the desk and lifted the roll top and found a leather bound journal and pen.

Looking at the elderly man in the bed, I was confident he wouldn't hear me. He was lying motionless and far enough away that by the time he'd spot me, I could hide or run out of there. The journal inside the desk caught my eye because it was just sitting there with a pen next to it, as though someone was using them regularly. I couldn't imagine sitting up there writing in a journal. It was so dark and depressing. I thought maybe it was a book of notes regarding the old man. Maybe it could offer some explanation.

I leafed through the journal with its black leather cover, mindlessly reading the dates written on some of the pages. Then I stopped and flipped back to a page. Right there on that one page was my mother's name handwritten in bold cursive font. Bria.

Seeing her name made my heart drop. It was Grandmother's handwriting. Instantly I sat down and read the next few pages, eager to figure out what that journal had to do with my mother. I read a journal entry to myself:

She was our last hope, but we couldn't risk her exposing us. I offered her one last chance and she fought me, physically this time. She slapped me across the face and said she would never help us, and threatened to tell everyone about us. With the risk that high, I am keeping her locked away at Bridgeport. Dr. Carson has adjusted her medication so she cannot overpower him or any of the staff.

I didn't comprehend what this was about. I knew my mother had also been at Bridgeport, like me, but what was my grandmother talking about? I flipped through more pages.

She's pregnant. The little witch is pregnant by Clint, my stupid, stupid son! I'm forcing him to leave at once, along with Abigail and their children. He is to tell no one. Bria will try to blackmail us, I am sure of it. We'll have to make arrangements for the child. It must be handled perfectly. It will take years before we will know if the baby shares what Bria possesses.

My mother, pregnant with me while at Bridgeport, must have been terrified. And then my father left her alone? I couldn't imagine how hard it must have been. The last sentence worried me. What did my mother have that I may have shared with her? Is it a disease? A mental illness? I had to keep reading to find out. What if I could possibly have some life threatening ailment?

Since Bria's death, the child is our last hope. She's still too young for us to know for sure. We can't test her just yet.

I glanced at the man in the bed, just to make sure he was still asleep before I continued. A few pages more and I kept reading.