Haunted

The Day After

3109 words

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I couldn't sleep all night. Every time I close my eyes, I see Uncle's face staring back at me, with his glass eyes and stiff features.

And at the very same time, I see my father's crumpled body in his car seat as the black car charges at both him and my mother.

I pull the covers off of my face, gulping in the fresh air. I always fall asleep with the blanket over me, but I can't just stay like that for very long with hyperventilating. It's a wonder I don't die in my sleep from hypoxia.

I mentally berate myself. Why would you joke about that now, of all times? When he... when he's...

I press my comforter firmly against my teary eyes. I constantly feel on the verge of crying, both for my uncle's death and for my parents'. But it almost feels like I have to choose sides. The side of my parents who I hardly remember, or of the man who raised me but murdered my parents?

Argh! I don't want to choose sides! And they're all dead anyway, what does it matter?

Don't lie to yourself; of course it matters. A voice chides in my mind.

Who asked you? I squirm into a sitting position and rest my back against the wall, eyes shut tight and hands clenched into fists in my lap.

I sit there for what feels like hours, until a knock echoes quietly throughout the room. I lean forward. Are they knocking on my door? My vision spins, and I'm standing outside of my room, holding a fist up to the wooden frame. Yep. Once my sight settles, I rise noiselessly to my feet and pad over to the door.

Cracking it open a bit, I peer up at the visitor. Messy caramel hair piled up in a bun, a flowery blouse and a thin cardigan. Tanith. Her eyes look on me with obvious pity, and my mood sours even further, if possible. Nothing aggravates me more than pity.

"You've heard the news?" Her voice rings in my ears, and suddenly I can't speak.

I simply nod my head, and slip back into my room's safety. Sitting down on the floor with my back to the door, I draw my knees up to my chest and hug them tightly. I press my fist to my mouth to hold back a sob, but a small, traitorous whimper escapes, and that's when the floodgates break open. Tears stream relentlessly down my face and dampen the neck of my nightgown. But I don't care.

Today I'm crying for nothing and everything. For all the wasted time and the lack of time and too much time to think all of this through. I don't want to think today. I just want to cry.

-§0§-

It's past noon now, and my tears have long since dried up. I feel numb. I drag myself up to my feet and walk out the door, unseeing, unfeeling. My legs carry me to the unattended west wing of the manor, where no one else dares to go. But the moment I reach one of the empty, dust-covered rooms, I pause. Something feels... off.

I turn around the room, gazing at every dark corner like something might pop out at me. I have a weird urge to leave the room now. So I do.

The hallway leads the way I came or to the right and around the corner. I take the right. When I round the bend, I begin hearing loud cracks and smashes, like the sound of china dishes breaking into thousands of pieces. I find myself walking up to one of the many doors on my left.