Make Me.

Book 4 - Chapter 3

Every window to the large manor house was open. Pulses of sunshine would beam down against the window hangings that were swinging freely with the ebb and flow of the warm breeze from outside as a cloud would cover, then uncover, the hot sun shining high in the sky. The smell of baking, sticky roof tiles was mixing with the salty, ocean air, making for a rather distinct odor, always present in the summertime, always paired with the incessant, soft hum of buzzing insects and chirping birds. Having enough windows in the house meant that not a single light needed to be lit until much later in the evening. It also meant that no matter what room Ellie was in, she was surrounded by the constant reminder that it was indeed, summertime, which was arguably her least favorite season. 

July, the summer of 1994, was no different than any other summer Ellie had experienced in her life thus far, except for the very large fact that everything she did, made her feel like she had jut run a marathon race. Walking up and down the stairs, marathon race, staying alert long enough to finish reading the chapter of the book she was reading, marathon race, playing a game of Scrabble with her father, marathon race.

Remus had brought his radio down from his office and had propped it up on one end of the very long dining table that lined the dining room that he and Ellie stepped foot in, maybe, once or twice a year. The wooden table was dark, and freshly polished in lieu of it's newfound use. Remus was sat smack dab in the middle on one side, cup of coffee in his left hand, his right hand resting thoughtfully on his chin. His eyes were fixed on the rack of seven wooden letter tiles in front of him.

At the end of the table, a big set of open french doors squeaked as the wind wiggled them back and forth.

On the other side of the table, directly across from Remus, sat Ellie. The right side of her face was resting on the smooth wood, her eyes closed, nose pointing to her own rack of seven wooden letter tiles. She was fluttering in and out of consciousness as her and her father took turns placing their tiles down. She could just hear the radio and the squeaking doors, their sounds filling her ears, then disappearing, as she drifted off. Her back was hunched over the edge of the table, vest exposing a large portion of her barely healed wounds to the fresh air that was filling the house.

The light clinking of wooden tiles against the game board forced her to open her eyes. Ellie watched as her father placed down the word: "BAN." A quick bit of mental math and Ellie had added three points to her father's point total. He was loosing, very sorely.

Ellie blinked a few times, opening her eyes wide and raising her eyebrows to wake herself up as she stared down at her letters. It was only a few seconds before her tiles hit the board, using her father's word to start hers: "BANALITIES." Her rack was empty.

"That's. . . sixty-two. . . plus fifty for emptying my rack." Ellie flicked her tile rack over to indicate it's emptiness to her father before continuing on. "So. . . one hundred and twelve." Ellie's pen scratched her score onto the sheet in front of her and she had yet to write the two of twelve when Remus huffed loudly.

"You're cheating," he accused her.

"How'm I cheating?" Ellie retorted, reaching her hand into the bag of tiles that was between them. "I'm playing the same as we always do."

"Banalities?" Remus asked with a raised eyebrow.

"We've always played using the dictionary," Ellie responded defensively. Next to the bag of tiles where Ellie was extracting seven new letters, sat a very large, very glossy dictionary - their Scrabble dictionary, which was always updated whenever a new version came out.

Remus squinted at the girl across from him.

"Don't do that," he said, shaking his head slightly, "we both know I'm not talking about the dictionary."