by R.K. Ryals
***
I drove down the lane to the Abbey, taking in my surroundings with a trepidation I hadn’t felt before. Everything looked eerie. Things seemed to leap out of the shadows. I was so jumpy, I almost ran off the road when a squirrel bounded out in front of my car. This wouldn’t do!
“Just breathe, Day."
There was a reason I didn’t watch horror movies. I got scared too easily. This was my life, not some Michael Meyers film. I took in a few deep breaths and my heart rate slowed.
“That’s better,” I mumbled as I climbed out of the car.
The Abbey loomed upward behind me. It looked like a gothic mansion from a Bronte novel. This didn’t comfort me. The wind blew my hair as I walked across the lawn, and I entered the Abbey just as the first sprinkles of rain began to fall.
“You’re late,” a voice said from behind me, and I fell into the door.
My heart rate increased again, blood rushed into my ears. Aunt Kyra. She stood just inside the dark foyer, her arms crossed. I righted myself slowly. Her black robes took on a sinister cast, judgmental and cruel.
“I’m sorry,” I said. No excuse would do.
“Dayton—” she began.
I stood waiting.
“How long have you been lying to me?”
I just looked at her. Her face was shadowed, but the half that wasn’t was solemn and angry. I knew suddenly that she’d discovered I wasn’t doing community service. My fault, considering I hadn’t kept a watch on the time. She had probably called looking for me. I sighed. I hadn’t lied really. I just hadn’t kept her informed.
“Two months."
There was no arguing with my aunt. She didn’t move, just stared at me. Her gaze raked my figure slowly. Her eyes were blazing.
“Go to your room, Dayton."
I began to walk by her quickly, but she stopped me when I came up on her, her hand taking my arm.
“I’ve done all I know to do” she said almost sadly. I didn’t look at her.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
This time I did look, startled. Her face was hard.
“Ma'am?”
She didn’t answer, just pointed to the stairs. What did she have to be sorry for? I stood there a moment before finally walking away. I was almost to the top of the stairs when I heard the laughter. It was faint and it was male, but when I glanced down the stairwell, it was empty. Even Aunt Kyra was gone.
Chapter 5
There are no laws among the Cursed. They live recklessly, indulging in every whim whether murder or lust. Their conscience is clouded by poor judgments. There can be little hope of redemption.
