Innocence

Chapter Three

Here goes chapter three! I am going to try to upload a picture of Mystery Boy so you can see what he looks like in my mind! I picture him as a young leo dicaprio just because I think Leo has that mysterious aspect to him. Well the best baby Leo picture I could find is him holding a teddy bear...so just ignore the bear...that's weird and has nothing to do with the story lol. Anyways. Chapter Three! This is where the action starts!

I remember when I was little, maybe six or seven years ago, when we got a “hired girl”, as Eva called her. Maddie was a little older than I was at the time and followed Eva around, washing dishes, folding laundry, doing whatever she could to help her. I wasn’t sure where she came from or why she was here, but she’s the closest thing I ever got to a female playmate. Only several months passed before she was offered a better-paying job closer to home, so she left us, leaving me heart broken. I guess my memory of her has never faded because she was my second best friend, next to Crispen, despite the fact I hardly knew her. I remember how at nights we would go to my room and talk about things. I never had much to talk about. No boys, no friends, no fun adventures. Lets face it-there's just not that much gossip to go around when you’ve lived your entire life under the roof of a lonely old mansion with your book-worm brother, snotty cousin, over-protective aunt and reserved uncle. You just gotta make stuff up. So that's exactly what I did when I talked to Maddie, I made up a whole life for myself, telling her my parents were farie royalty and were too busy to care for a family, so they sent us to live with these random strangers who they call “our uncle and aunt”. I thought that my story was pretty believable and enchanting, but, looking back, I’m sure Maddie was just humoring me as she spent hours listening to my crazy tales.

    There were several places to look for Maddie whenever I wanted to talk. The laundry room. The kitchen. The garden. And I just figured that those would be the places to look for Mystery Boy too. But I’ve been spending the past week checking and rechecking those places, and he’s seemed to have disappeared off the face of the earth. Why am I looking for him? I honestly don’t know. He scares me to death and I can’t stand the thought of facing him again. And yet here I am, in the middle of the night, tossing and turning and wondering where he could be all day. Uncle Jonathan did hire him, didn’t he? I’m positive he did. Or did he change his mind when Eva came to get him “situated”?

    I flip my pillow over and lay my head on the cool side. Why does the house always get so hot at nights when you can’t get to sleep? During the day it’s a freezer. Think, think! If I was Uncle Jonathan and I had just hired a boy to work for me, a young boy, what would I have him doing? Probably not laundry and dishes like eight year old Maddie. Probably yard work, any repairs that needed to be done in the house. Broken windows, clogged sinks, squeaky doors. We have a handyman for all of that, though. What would he be doing?

    The thought is so frustrating, but what’s even more frustrating is the fact that it’s keeping me awake. I shouldn’t be this concerned over where I can find our hired boy. It’s just like..something is drawing me to him. Like I NEED to find him. I don’t want to, I need to.

    I close my eyes and take deep breaths. If I can just get to sleep, then I can figure this all out in the morning. Maybe I can ask Uncle Jonathan. I’m really getting that desperate. Or maybe, if I can just-

The cellar! The thought hits me so suddenly, I start laughing. Why didn’t I think of this before? He said he could sleep in the cellar!

WIthout thinking, I tear the quilt from my body and glance cautiously over at Crispin. He’s snoring peacefully, his curls framing his face like a golden halo. I want him to come too, because I want him to see what I’m talking about. But there’s no way he’d come with me. He’d just tell me to stop being stupid and go back to sleep. So I pull on my velvety pink slippers and matching bathrobe and start out by myself down the long, eery hall.

I’m not gonna lie.This mansion has always scared me at night. All the squeaky noises, the shadows. It’s like in some horror movie, that’s where I live. The haunted mansion. I only believe it’s haunted at night, because when the sun rises and chases the shadows away and the bird’s songs replace the sound of squeaky wood floors, I laugh at myself for being so silly and too scared to get up and use the restroom earlier in the night. But then darkness settles again and the fear comes with it.

Maybe my imagination is just too big for my own good.  

Down the hall I walk, cringing at every tiny noise that erupts from the wooden floor beneath my feet. What if I get to the cellar and he’s not there? What if he is? Both thoughts are simply terrifying. I try to concentrate on the task at hand. I’ve only been to the cellar once. Maddie had to go down to grab some potatoes and I was talking to her, so I followed her down. But I’m pretty sure it won't be hard to find. Theres a little door in the floor of the kitchen that leads right down to it. And the kitchen is right off the dining room, and I go to the dining room three times a day, so this shouldn't be hard. I find the dining room with limited trouble and am entering the kitchen when I’m stopped dead in my tracks. He’s sitting there, on the counter, his legs dangling off the edge and stuffing his face with some sort of dessert. And just staring at the doorway as if he was expecting me. We stare at each other for awhile without saying anything. He’s wearing black and red plaid pajama pants, socks, and a tshirt. Just looking at me between the locks of his brown hair that hang over his blue eyes, and chewing calmy, not in the least bit surprised or embarrassed to be caught stealing food in the middle of the night.

“What are you doing?!” I finally cry, engraged. It’s like he couldn’t care less about me being here, like I’m just a mirage or something that doesn’t really mean anything.

“What are you doing?” He replies, taking another bit of the fancy chocolaty looking thing in his hand.

“I was looking for you.” Right after the words come out I realize how wrong they sound, so I struggle to compensate. “No, not looking, that’s now what I meant, I meant-”

He laughs, interrupting my babbling. “I know.”

“You know what?”

“That you were looking for me.” He jumps from the counter and walks towards the giant refrigerator. “You know, those chocolate eclair things sure are good, but they don’t really fill you up.” He opens the refrigerator like he owns the place. “Maybe something with a little more protein..”

“What are you doing?” I repeat, rushing over and slamming the heavy white door shut again.

“What are YOU doing?” He says, re-opening up the fridge.

I’m about to boil over with rage. Does this boy have no respect at all? I slam the door shut one last time and stand in front of it.

“Answer my question.”

He folds his arms across his chest and looks me up and down, as if trying to decide rather I’m worthy of his answers. “Why?” Apparently I’m not.

“My Uncle hired you. You’re under our authority.” I raise my chin slightly and put on an air of superiority. So there.

“I didn’t sign any papers. I’m under no one's authority.” He pushes me away like I'm made out of paper and continues searching the fridge. Is he doing it just to irritate me?

This boy, this frustrating, maddening stuck up brat, is driving me insane.

“Who do you think you are?”

He pulls his head from the fridge and for a moment I think he’s really about to answer, but he stops abruptly and his pupils dilate as he seems to look right through me. I stand there, waiting, but there’s no answer.

“What’s wrong?” I ask finally, timidly, all trace of firmness and supremacy long gone from my voice. He’s frozen in time, staring straight through me, even the gentle rise and fall of his chest has ceased. “Are you ok?” I reach out to touch him, to see if he’s still real. Maybe my imagination is bigger than I thought...

He snaps to life, grabbing my wrist just before my fingers make contact with his face. “I knew my timing was limited, but it’s only been a week...” He mumbles to himself.

“What are you talking about?” I say, struggling to wriggle my hand from his death grip. He just holds on tighter and finally makes eye contact with me.

“You have two minutes and thirty seconds to get your brother and meet me by the back door. We have to get out of here."