Souls of Perdition

Chapter 3: Embers

The soft glow from the overhead light bathed everything in golden hues. It cast lazy shadows that pooled across the linoleum floor as the rain slid down the window in uneven trails. The air inside was heavy with of garlic and herbs.

From the lounge, Charlie and Sue's voices wove together in gentle conversation, blending with the low hum of the TV. Charlie's occasional chuckle, deep and gravelly, rose above Sue's soft laughter, like the crackle of a fire on a quiet night. Each sound curled around me, wrapping me in a sense of home I hadn't realized I'd been missing.

Seth spun the dish towel over his head like a lasso, his face lit with playful mischief as I finished wiping down the counter. "I'm pretty sure I could make this into an Olympic sport," he declared, tossing a spoon into the drawer with a flick of his wrist.

I smirked, glancing at him from the corner of my eye. "What, towel-flinging or pretending to help?"

"Both," he replied with a grin. "Gold medal in multitasking, for sure."

I shook my head, placing the last dish in the drying rack. The soft clink of porcelain punctuated our banter. "You've got some high aspirations."

He smiled, leaning against the counter. His eyes drifted towards the floor and his eyebrows knitted together. "You think Charlie's gonna notice we didn't mop the floor?"

I raised an eyebrow. "You were supposed to mop?"

He chuckled softly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Eh, I figured clean dishes were more important."

"Nice try." I nudged him lightly with my elbow, hanging the dish towel back on its hook. "I won't tell him if you won't."

"Deal." He gave me a small grin

Seth spun the dish towel one last time, then tossed it onto the counter, letting out a tired sigh. "Alright, I think we're done here," he said, his grin softening. He leaned against the counter, stretching his arms overhead. "I'm gonna head to bed soon."

I wiped down the last section of the counter and nodded. "Yeah, I'm about ready to call it a night too."

Seth glanced toward the hallway, "Do you need the bathroom first?"

I smiled at the small gesture, appreciating the thoughtfulness behind it. "Go ahead. I'll be fine."

"Okay," he said, flashing me a quick grin before pushing off the counter. "I won't take too long."

He wandered toward the hallway, his footsteps growing softer as he disappeared into the bathroom. The sound of running water soon followed, and I listened for a moment before turning back to finish tidying up. The house had fallen into its usual nighttime rhythm, the quiet hum of the fridge and the steady patter of rain filling the spaces left by our conversation.

I wiped my hands on a towel, my eyes drifting further away from the hallway and closer to the corner of the room.

My fingers rested on the cool edge of the counter. The house was still, the comforting warmth of earlier replaced by something heavier. The silence pressed in on my skin. I stood there for a moment, staring at the bin, feeling the tension inside me rise and fall like waves against the shore.

The soft light from the hallway spilled across the floor, barely touching the edges of the lid. I could feel the presence of the photos, buried beneath the scraps of food and soiled napkins. The room felt smaller now. Warmer. But in a way that pressed too close to my skin—like the air itself was tightening.

I crossed the room slowly, my bare feet whispering against the linoleum. The bin creaked as I lifted the lid, giving passage to the smell of damp food that rose to my face. My fingers slipped inside, grazing the crumpled napkins and paper scraps until they brushed against the jagged surface of the photos. They felt soft, fragile beneath my touch. I pulled them free, quietly closing the lid—careful not to make a sound.