The Sixers: The Huntsmen of Death

Chapter 17

Dreams still haunted me that night. This was no different than the others. There was a car, burning bright lights, and the chilling screams. That was all I remembered, but I remember that night vividly to every detail. I just couldn't get through the terror of the night when it replayed in my dreams. The farthest I could ever get was when the car got hit. I trembled, screamed, and woke up in a sweat just like every night. The usual process of my dreadful life. Yet, this was different, because I could hear a small voice pulling me out from the depths of my suffocating nightmares.

I woke up on a small twin side bed with white sheets and a black comforter. I was bundled up in a ball with fingers running through my scalp. My hands were wrapped around my body holding myself for emotional support and terror. My eyes opened to Darren kneeling next to the bedside made of olden oak. He was whispering to me softly telling me that it was going to be okay. It was the first time I woke up smiling since the accident.

"Hey," he whispered beaming a soft smile across his face. I smiled back unable to respond. I lowered my eyes in shame or embarrassment for my pathetic behavior. He eventually stood letting his shadow wonder over me.

"You hungry?" he asked. His voice was soft and warming like that of my fathers. It showed sympathy and understanding, but also acceptance. He didn't pressure me to tell him what was wrong. He watched over me and didn't expect answers in return. He understood what I wanted and gave me the space to handle my situation. He didn't ask if I was okay. He already knew I wasn't and that was enough. The biggest realization was that he knew not to ask questions until I felt comfortable to answer them myself. He understood and for once, I felt not alone.

I nodded pushing my body up against the wooden bed frame behind me. "Yeah, I guess a little."

"Your brothers are already eating if you would like to join them and my family for breakfast."

I couldn't take my eyes off Darren's sparkling blue eyes when I spoke. They were mystifying. "What's for breakfast?"

He opened a rusted wooden door like the rest of the room that was in desperate need of a paint job and maybe a complete renovation. Wood fragments could be seen sticking out from pieces along the wall. The floor board creaked with every step. There was even a musty smell like an old odor. It could have been picked for a starring role in America's Most Haunted Houses.

He held the door for me, "Pancakes and bacon with a choice of blueberries and or strawberries on the side."

I stepped out of bed hearing the creak of the wood underneath the pressure of my feet. It spoke echoing at every moment of my body. It was frankly annoying. I passed Darren into a long hallway. Like the room, it was musty and worn down. There was nothing up against the walls besides peeling wood splinters and the occasional darkened wood spot. There were two doors up against each side of the hallway with Darren's room being at the top of the long hallway.

Small snickers and booming voices, none of which I recognized, could be heard at the end of the hallway that led into a larger room. There was a long oak table that seated eight at the center of the room with an old fashioned, but polished wooden oak. It was in much better shape than the building put together.

There was a small kitchen in the left corner that was furnished with a white tile compared to the wooden floorboard in the rest of the house. If one could call it a house. It honestly looked like an old office building. There were grey file cabinets up against the wall and even an empty and dusty desk that looked recently cleaned in the corner to my right. There was a modern-day computer, a Dell, sitting on the wooden furnished desk with a couple loose papers at the sides.