The Evening Hunter [#3]

Prologue

Ivy — Ten years old, February.

Bensly occupied the space beside my sister Helen, both of us keeping her in the middle. We resumed caressing her shoulders as we calmed her down.

I hid my tears somewhere I could not access them. For my baby sister’s sake, one of us had to be strong. I had to be strong for her. Helen had just turned eight years old. Then, three weeks after we celebrated her birthday, our parents left. They vanished for good.

“Take a sip.” Bensly handed Helen a glass of water that he left to get. It had to be us, taking care of ourselves as though the house wasn’t full of people.

I let Helen drink as I studied the gathering in our house. Most of the people were busy talking to Uncle Peter and his wife. They were passing on their condolences since he lost his brother. You’d think Uncle Peter was the person left orphaned. Other fake moaners stood in gossip groups as they sent glances to the couch we sat on. They all could drink tea and enjoy the cookies offered to them, yet I could barely swallow my saliva.

I shifted my eyes to the door where more people were joining. Their faces did not look familiar and I swear my parents never used to have so many friends. Clearly, they came because of Uncle Peter. 

A peal of overlapping laughter met my ear, and I shot my gaze to the three ladies standing by the window. One of them was Uncle Peter’s wife. She promptly retrieved her smile and stared at me with fake apologetic eyes.

I fixed my eyeglasses and lowered my face to Helen. “Do you want to get some air with me?” 

She nodded. “Yes.” Her puffy eyes met mine, and I pushed the lump down my throat, holding back the tears.

“Ben, you can go help Olivia. Helen and I will be outside.”

Olivia and Bensly were siblings living next house in our estate. The only supportive people I ever met in my entire life. Olivia was busy in the kitchen serving visitors some drinks. She was my mum’s best friend, and we grew up next to her. Ben was our age mate. He always turned a year older than me the next day of my birthday. My birthday always comes on the first 14th of February. That marked the calendar again as a week away from our parent’s burial day. So sad they did not wait to witness it as I turned eleven.

“No, I am coming with you.” Bensly got up as well. “After all, Olivia never needs me anywhere near the fire. Not when I nearly burned his kitchen down, remember?”

The memory hit us slightly and a lazy smile stretched on us. Despite being a memory that consistently had us in stitches, we could no longer derive amusement from it.

That was a story for another day.

We left the house after informing Olivia that we were to return soon. Our destination was our favorite place; at the lake. We sat on the lake shore staring at the endless waters. We all seemed to disappear in nothing. No stories to laugh at, no jokes to get us rolling on the ground, and the gloomy cloud settled above us, never leaving us.