CHAPTER TWO

Unable to sleep, Anna decides to get a better feel for her new home.

Sleep continued to alluded me throughout the night. I wish I could say that I was perplexed by the copious amount of energy that seemed to be powering my body, but I understood with perfect clarity what I was suffering from wasn’t insomnia. What I had was much worse:
    Homesickness.
    I missed the familiarity of my house. I missed the solace of my room. I missed the awkwardly mixed smells of syrup and clean linen. At the moment I even missed the obnoxious barking of our neighbors two Jack Russell Terriers. 
    I had tested several different techniques to relax, ranging from something as simple as keeping my eyes shut and counting back from one thousand, to thinking about something boring, like mathematics. As I twisted and turned, nothing brought the slightest sensation of fatigue.
    What made everything so much worse was being forced into this foreign place alone. I had even been deprived of the comfort of my aunt and friends through my phone and laptop.
    I had been so preoccupied all day that I really didn’t have that much time to dwell on my emotional satiability. Now my heart was beating so violently that it was hard to breathe. The combination of harsh palpitations and resistance to eating the past few days was making me nauseous.
    The stress triggered my anxiety, which only intensified my restlessness. A little over a year ago, in a self-respective way of trying to prove to my mother that medication was simply an issue of mind over matter, I quit taking my anti-anxiety pills. Up until now, I was able to verify my theory.
    I rolled over and shoved my face into a pillow and let out a frustrated groan.
Unlike the lavender scented laundry detergent my mother used, my new pillows smelt musty, and the comforter was stiff from being over-stuffed. I immensely regretted my decision of abandoning my ragged, hand stitched quilt and character pillow cases in a trashcan back in Illinois.
    One thing that particularly bothered me was that my bed was located in the center of the room. I don’t like open sides. Earlier I had tried to move it, but the frame was bolted into the wall. After spending about six hours twisting and turning on the king sized mattress, frustration finally got the best of me, and I squirmed out from beneath of the thick floral comforter. I threw it halfway off of the bed in exasperation, flailing my arms and legs a little too dramatically in the process.
    I sat upright and combed my fingers through my hair in a pathetic attempt at taming the unruly brown locks. My knuckles caught on the knots, not working as well as I had wanted.
    My attention shifted, brooding around the room. If I wasn’t going to sleep, I needed to find something to preoccupy time rather than stare at the frilly underbelly of the canopy bed.
    The most productive option was to unpack my boxes. As quickly as the idea crossed my mind, I disregarded it. Doing so would mean that I was accepting this place as my home, which I stubbornly refused to do just yet.
    I reached a leg over the edge of the bed and tested the warped floor with the slight pressure of my toes before completely stepping off. I barely weighed a hundred and ten, but the wood still groaned under the weight.
    The exposed skin of my ankles tingled as both of my feet firmly planted on the floor. Seeing no vents, I assumed there was a draft from the glass wall. I looked down for my slippers, and noticed a dense black mist snaking around my feet and up my calves. My heart jolted and I stepped back, but when I blinked, it was gone. I took in a deep breath and shook my head, frowning in spite of myself. Apparently stress and sleep deprivation was making me delusional.
    I shoved my feet into fuzzy rainbow slippers that kind of matched my pajama shorts and dug a thin baby blue jacket out of a box I had marked CLOTHES on all four sides. I had it zipped about three inches up when something crashed behind me.
    The wooden floors combined with the cavernous room made the sound thunderous. I turned in a slow circle, staring wide-eyed around the room for what could have made the noise.
    An opaque shadow shot from the far corner and breezed beneath of the bed skirt.
    A wave of adrenaline rushed through my veins, but I tried to stay reasonable. “It was just a mouse,” I said aloud, but not too convincingly. I tried again. “This rotten house is probably full of them.” Not much better.
    I pushed a strand of hair out of my face and decided to figure out what fell. I moved in the direction of the crash, but as I scanned the area, I found nothing.
    The floorboards groaned a few feet behind me. I spun around expecting to see someone, but the space was empty.    
    Something felt off. I had the strongest sense of urgency to get out of the room as quickly as possible. I weighed the possibility of the house being haunted. It obviously was old, and a majority of the people I had either met or seen so far didn’t look exactly spry or all there mentally. The thought was discomforting.
    I practically ran to the door and cracked it open, peeking out at the long stretch of hallway. Due to the absence of windows, the house was nearly pitch black. I felt the wall outside for a light switch but discovered only empty space.
    I took a step out, then reconsidered. The hallway wasn’t very wide, and I wasn’t familiar where anything was placed. Remembering the collection of valuables littering the small area, I decided that blindly wondering was too risky; it was seemingly impossible to walk through without bumping into something.
    I pressed my lips together, contemplating. All of my belongings were still boxed up, and going through them would take too much time considering I wanted out of the room as soon as possible. Plus I was almost certain that I didn’t own a flashlight, or even if I did, I doubted that I packed it. My cell phone would have worked if it hadn’t of died hours prior.
    A metal clank took me by surprise. I snapped my head in the direction it came from and noticed that there was an antique brass lantern sitting on one of the nightstands. Odd, I hadn’t remembered seeing it there before. Beside it laid a box of matches.
    Something tickled my ankles again, causing a chill to run from the heels of my feet all the way up to the nape of my neck. I trembled and ran forward to grab the lantern and matchbox, not caring where they had mysteriously came from. I struck a match and lit the wick then dashed into the hall.
    Once I was out of the room the strange pressure that I had been feeling lifted. I slightly felt more at ease, but still guarded. I tried to calm myself by reminding myself that the house is old, and bound to make quite a few strange, unexplainable noises. There was no need to intimidate myself with theories of ghost.
    I held the lantern up, lighting a few feet ahead of me. Everything looked eerie in the light cast from the small flame.
    Partially from boredom, but mainly a result of curiosity, I jiggled the knobs of each door that I passed. Donald had told me that Hal was the only other person living in the mansion, and his room was on the third floor, so I wasn’t concerned with invading a strangers room. To my disappointment, each brass knob held firm, despite my sharp twist. Which also rose several questions in my mind. Who locks every door in their house?
    I made my way down the stairwell next, counting eight steps until I landed on the center platform. My hands slid easily along the cheery wood banister, leaving a waxy residue on my fingers. I counted eighteen more steps until I made it to ground level.
    I held the lantern up again, examining the area. I had five options: Three doors directly behind the stairwell, and a large rectangular opening on both the left and right sides of the main room.
    All of the doors behind the stairs were locked. I assumed that anything with a handle would have the same result from hereon out.
    What resembled the flicker of the flame of my lantern flashed off to the right, gold light outlining the rectangular frame. I decided that was the next to investigate.
    It only took me a moment to guess that I had entered the living room. I let my arm slack, because there was a full fire blazing in a fireplace, creating enough light to expose all of its contents without the help of my lantern.
    The mantle was adorned with about a dozen identical books, all with the same faded black binding. Two black marble slates held them all firmly together.
    An older version of a flat screen was mounted above the fireplace. Three russet colored leather couches were placed a few feet in front of it. One had a well used blanket thrown over the arm, while the others were crammed with small decorative pillows.
    The layout reminded me of the lounge of a funeral home: simple, slightly welcoming, with neutral colors and several faux potted plants.
    Bumps rose on my arms as I got the sensation of being watched. I tried not to make any sudden movements. Very slowly, I turned, and tried not to startle.
    Someone was standing in the far corner, partially concealed in the shadows. Each time a flame licked up a log a little too excitedly, it exposed a fraction of his face. His expression was placid, but his body posture seemed tensed.
    I couldn’t have been in the room for more than five minutes. I hadn’t heard anyone come in behind me. The only other explanation was that he was already in the room when I walked in.
    I stumbled backwards into the back of the closest couch. The man didn’t move or say anything. For a moment I reconsidered the possibility that he was only a statue, until he let out a grunt.
    “He- hello,” I said, my voice shaking, making the acknowledgment insecure. I cleared my throat and continued. “Are you Hal?” I guessed.
    The man took a single step forward.
    Despite the countless number of times I had stared at my mothers wedding picture the day before, details of the man beside her slipped my mind.
    From vague memory, there was the untamed black hair, a lean body. Unlike the man in the photograph, this one looked worn. His hair was longer, wilder, laced with wiry grey strands. He had a mangy beard, and dark circles underneath his eyes. I couldn’t tell if he looked malnourished or was suffering from a bad drug addiction.
    Contradicting his untidy hygiene, he wore a very expensive looking suit. The black material was tailored to his every curve.
    After taking in his appearance, I noticed that he was holding something. He began to stroke it forcefully as he continued to stare at me. I broke my own gaze away from him to note that what he was petting was a large bird.
    The bird studied me just as keenly as its owner. It let out a shrill caw, and I realized it was a raven.
    “Poe, this is Anna,” the man said. “She is my daughter.”
    Though the situation was highly uncomfortable, I allowed myself to relax a little. “So, you are Hal?” I asked again, though he already answered the question- just not directly to me.
    This was my dad. I didn’t like the word. It didn’t feel right. It felt foreign. Hal had been absent my entire life, and just because I was legally under his care now didn’t make him a father to me.
    I knew I should have had some form of confused, longing emotion. But I didn’t. I felt awkward and slightly angry. Why wouldn’t he address me? Shouldn’t he say sorry, apologize for abandoning me and my mother for the last sixteen years?
    “It’s remarkable how much she looks just like her mother. What? No, don’t talk like that! You have such a filthy mouth!”
    I froze, too shocked to move. Was he… talking to the bird? Not just talking, but having a conversation with it? I didn’t have a vast knowledge of birds, but I did know that ravens weren’t capable of mimicry the way a parrot was.
    I made sure to make acute movements as I inched my way towards the door. Maybe my room wasn’t so bad after all.
    Hal’s head snapped up. “Hello,” he said.
    I froze. “Hi?” I responded quizzically.
    “Please, don’t mind Poe. He thinks he’s funny. I’ve tried teaching him manners but it seems to be a lost cause.” His attention went back to the raven when it began to garble. “Of course I’m going to apologize!” he hissed under his breath. “You’re lack of consideration is unfathomable! I hope she doesn’t hear you… Fine, go! You’re being rude anyways!”
    The bird turned on his arm, catching my gaze with its beady black eyes, and let out another caw. As illogical as it may be, I felt as if it was meant as an insult aimed towards me. It flapped its wings and leaped forward into the air, whizzing past me. I felt the breeze from its wings stir my hair as it passed.
    Hal shook his head, then looked at me with his wild eyes. “Sleep well?” he asked. “Is the room to your satisfaction?”
    “Uhhh… yes. It’s very… old fashioned.”
    “How was the ride from the airport? Did Mage behave himself? He’s quite the charmer, that boy. Great sense of humor. Very smart.” He began fidgeting, touching his fingers together and rubbing his hands.
    “Charmer” wasn’t exactly the word that I’d of chosen to describe Mage. “Eccentric lunatic” would have sufficed just as well, but I wasn’t about to verbalize that opinion. His chauffer skills were questionable, especially with his inane personality. Giving a person like him a legal license was like putting a trained chimp behind the wheel of a car.
    Instead I lied through my teeth. “He’s a hoot,” I said. I even forced a smile to make it more believable.
    Rather than pick up the conversation, Hal cocked his head to the side and stared at me. The action reminded me of the raven.
    I rocked back on my heels, waiting for a prolonged amount of time for him to say something. He just continued to consider me.
    I couldn’t take it. I took a step towards the doorway. “Well, it was nice meeting you,” I said, trying to be polite. “Is it okay with you if I continue to wonder? I’m trying to get a feel where everything is.”
    The moment the sentence escaped my lips, his entire posture changed. Clearly I had overstepped a boundary. He studied me through narrowed eyes. “The locked doors are strictly off limits,” he said.
    Eager to get as far away from Hal as possible, I took an uneasy step backwards, nodded, then hastily walked across the hall, even though I knew it would have been more logical just to go back up to my room.
    I passed through a dining room without much care, into the next open doorway, which by appearance was the kitchen.
    There was nothing of great interest about it: small for the most part, the walls painted a sea foam green, lined with cracked and chipped white cabinets, warped tile floors, and an island constructed in the center.
    My stomach rumbled at the sight of boxes of food stacked on top of the island. Taking my lack of apatite lately into consideration, the fact that my body recognized and wanted food now was hard to resist.
    I scanned the selection of cereal, cookies, and crackers, debating what to do. My stomach let out another ravenous growl, which settled my mind. I grabbed the most appealing box of cereal and searched the cabinets and drawers for a bowl and spoon.
    Just as I raised the spoon to my mouth, a shadow shot across the floor. I backed into the island with a gasp.
    “Don’t worry, no monsters here.”
    I recognized the voice but still startled for a second time, spinning around much too quickly with a “S**t!” Milk sloshed out of the bowl at the abrupt movement, splattering down my jacket and made a small puddle on the floor. I huffed and set the bowl down before turning to glare at Mage.
    He was standing closer than I thought, looking a little too sinister in the dark for my taste, though it suited him. Actually, if anything, it made him even more attractive, I noted with self-disgust.
    “What are you doing here?” I demanded, plucking at my wet shirt. My eyes narrowed when I noticed his attire. He was casually dressed in tight black jeans, a dangerously low cut navy V neck, and black jacket with what I assumed was a band name across the front.
    He ignored my question. I caught his expression after I was done examining his wardrobe choice and noticed that he had a cheesy grin slapped across his face. “Were you checking me out?” he asked.
    I sucked in my cheeks. “No.”
    Mage crossed his arms across his chest and leaned back against the doorway, lowering his lips to a smirk.
    I could feel my skin warm. Heat radiated from the top of my chest up to my face. I placed a hand to my cheek, my palm warmed from the deep blush.
    Flustered, I moved my hand to run my fingers through my hair, brushing it away from my face. I looked away, then back with narrowed eyes. “I really don’t like you,” I told him again.
    “That’s okay, you don’t have to,” he said nonchalantly. “It doesn’t bother me if our relationship is one sided. I’m having too much fun with this.”
    I felt my jaw drop. Catching the gawp- but not quickly enough, because he snickered- I composed myself with as much dignity as I could manage.
    Unable to think of a clever counter, I huffed and turned my back to him, in search for a towel. I tried to ignore his presence and began to dry the milk that I had neglected.
    The slightest pressure of his hand on my shoulder made me turn. He had dropped his smug grin. “Listen,” he placed his hand over mine.
    The moment his fingertips touched the top of my hand, the contact brought instantaneous pain. It felt as if thousands of microscopic needles were being pressed into my skin. The sting sunk through my flesh and muscles and onto my bones. Blue flames licked out from the space between his fingertips and the top of my hand, crackling like raw electricity. The bizarre fire ensnared my wrist and began creeping around my arm.
    Instinct took over then. My body prioritized the intense amount of discomfort as more important than my curiosity towards the phenomenon. I placed my free hand flat on Mage’s chest and pushed as hard as I could. The action took him off guard and he stumbled back.
    I pulled my tingling hand into my chest and stared at him curiously, well aware of how large my eyes probably were.
    “Did you feel that, too?”
    A visible lump rose in his throat, and he swallowed it with what looked like great difficultly. He nodded. “Yeah.”
    “What was that?”
    “I don’t know. Static electricity?”
    I let out a dry laugh, hoping that he was joking. “That was not static. Did you see the fire? What was that?!”
    For a moment I thought that I saw distress fleet across his face, but he composed himself so quickly that I could have caught something entirely different. He shrugged. “I think you have an over-active imagination. But if you want to go that route, yeah, I felt the static too.” He winked at me.
    With such a sleazy move, the mood lifted. I knew what I saw… Or, at least I thought that I did. Then again, earlier I had also hallucinated black mist.
    I decided that it would be in my best interest to drop the subject. I settled for rolling my eyes. “You never told me why you were here,” I reminded him. “Isn’t it a little late?”
    He shrugged. “Your dad asked me to help him in the study.”
    “At these hours?” I vaguely searched for a clock. “I can’t see anything being that important. What are you helping him with?”
    I tossed the towel back into sink where I had found it and picked up my bowl of cereal again, stirring the spoon through the now soggy circles. Though it completely lost its appeal, I taste tested it anyways, immediately regretting the decision. The mushy, grainy texture made me grimace.
    “Researching stuff.” He sounded bored.
    I forced myself to swallow. “What kind of stuff?”
    “Man stuff.” He used the tip of his tongue to jiggle one of his lip rings, then stuck it out at me, revealing that he had that pierced too, which wasn’t at all surprising. “You know, if you ever need help researching man stuff, I’d always be willing to help.”
    The comment was enough to make me blush again. I noticed how his eyes fell down from my low cut shirt, to my rainbow striped shorts. They lingered on my bare legs a little longer than appropriate, but there wasn’t anything that I could do to conceal them. I settled for zipping my jacket all the way up.
    The remark, combined with his lustful stare, made my skin crawl. “You are repulsive. I’m going back to bed.”
    I set the cereal bowl into the sink and grabbed my lantern and a box of cookies off of the counter then turned for the doorway.
    Unfortunately, Mage was blocking my exit. I let out an exasperated sigh.
    “Want company?”
    “Aren’t you supposed to be helping Hal?”
    “I can reschedule.”
    “I’ll pass.”
    “You don’t have to be embarrassed, Anna. This can be our dirty little secret.”
    “Go to Hell.”
    Something about that remark made him chuckle. “Only if you’ll meet me there.”
    I tried to dodge around him, but he moved in my way. “Move!” I snapped. I wasn’t in the mood to play games. All I wanted at this point was to sit on my bed with my cookies and wait for morning, when Donald would be back.
    “If you’re going to pass, you have to pay the toll.” He tapped his cheek twice with his finger.
    “Nice line. Too bad it’s over-used.”
    “It’s a classic. Come on, cutie. Pay up.”
    I placed the hand holding the box of cookies on my hip. “Have you ever heard of sexual harassment lawsuits?” I asked acerbically. “I think that it’s safe to assume that you’re more than familiar with them.”
    “Have you ever heard of the chase?” he retorted, bending closer. He already towered over me, but his overconfidence made me feel even smaller. My heart throbbed. “Like I said before, I’m having fun.”
    A section of hair fell over his eyes. I had the overwhelming urge to reach up and brush it away, but resisted. I could feel the box slip in my palm from the perspiration that was accumulating. I told myself it was my compulsion for tidiness that wanted to put his hair back in place, not because I wanted to touch him.
    I breathed a sigh. “Fine.”
    He paused, his expression conveying shock. I took the opportunity to duck under his outstretched arm.
    On the other side I smiled triumphantly and blew him a kiss. “Hate you,” I said.
    “Mmm,” a deep noise rumbled in the base of his throat, his eyes managing to smolder in the dark, “hate you more.”
    I could feel his stare burrowing into my back as I made my escape, which caused me walk faster. I was more than certain his attention was a little lower.
    Alright, so I had to admit that the thought of Mage and I touching made my heart flutter and my skin tingle. But taking his narcissistic personality into consideration, in a more realistic contemplation, it made bile rise in my throat. I wasn’t sure how to take the mixed feelings.
    I shook my head, wishing that the movement would make the thoughts fly out my ears. I had too much experience dealing with boys like Mage.
    He obviously had set his sights on me, which wasn’t surprising: I was a challenge. And from what I learned, though the chase was fun, what they took their pride in was the conquest. But I wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of knowing how irrationally attracted I was to him, or how badly I wanted to walk into the trap. My dignity and my morals were too high to stoop to something so decadent.
    I took the stairs two steps at a time. Once in my room I slammed the door behind me and took in a relieved breath.
    I still refused to consider this place home, and I still hated my new room. But I had to face the fact that this room was the only form of sanctuary the house could provide me at the moment. The thought made me cringe.    
    As I walked back to my bed, I noticed dull slivers of light had managed to slink their way through the curtains against the far glass wall. I eagerly drew them back to expose the natural light of the rising sun.
    For some strange reason, seeing the bright orb reflecting off of the surface of the water brought me the smallest notion of hope.
    I replaced the lantern on the nightstand where I had found it and blew out the flame.