[old] hexes for exes, briarville girls (1)

九。滅火

(fire dampened)

LIVIA HAS NEVER LIKED the Hepburn house.

Perhaps mansion is the better word. Four floors of marble and stone, sprawling terraces from every window- the Hepburn mansion is one of the oldest in Briarville, and it made perfect sense. The Hepburns were among the first to move to Briarville back then, and they were old money, Hepburn & Co. Department Store. More than a hundred years old.

From the outside, it was beautiful, almost as if it was one of those houses from Dickins or Bronte's stories. It almost looked like a palace. So perfect. Too perfect. The courtyard felt like one of an abandoned castle's. The house seemed unlived in, all the curtains were pulled close, no one was out on the balconies, there wasn't even a sound from the house. The engine of the car was the only thing Livia could hear.

Inside, the lack of personality was shared. Sarah's parents were always quarrelling, her brother was sick and ill. Sarah might as well be the only sane one in her family at that point. There were barely any pictures on any walls, which were all white. It's what politicians and rich people's houses are described as in the stories. It's basically Kim Kardashian and Kanye West's house. Empty.

Everytime she came here, however, she couldn't help but be wowed by the size. Livia found herself staring at the ornate carvings at every window, almost befitting of royalty. Pamela gently tugged at her sleeves, sending her a look of query. Livia shook and lowered her head, blinking before following her parents inside.

The mansion had not changed at all. Everything was exactly where they had been two years ago. Four years ago. Six years ago. It was like walking through a museum (and perhaps the Hepburn mansion could be a museum).

"Erica. Frances."

Her hand spun so fast she almost thought she'll get a whiplash. Joseph Hepburn stood at the door, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. Livia almost gulped. The man was incredibly intimidating, dressed in his fancy suits with his stony expressions that never betrayed what he truly felt. Sarah and Alec, her brother, had both gotten their red hair from their mother. Joseph's hair was black. It looked as if ink had been split all over the man's head.

"Livia. Pamela." His tone was much softer now, as he regarded the two girls. A moment's silence passed, before he said, "Come on in. The Martinez and McHill are already here."

Of course they were. Livia's fists clenched behind her as they marched into the house. Why wouldn't they be? She was the only one not smiling.

She didn't like how the house felt. She could hear the maids cooking in the kitchen, soft murmurs from the living room and dining rooms, and footsteps from the second floor. Like one of those art galleries, where you felt guilty for making a single sound. Livia didn't say anything as she followed her family into the lounge. It felt like the house was abandoned, if not for the decor and the few people coming and going. It was so quiet. Too quiet.