My Third Eye

Chapter 17

 Marcus

As I walk through the sketchy neighborhood with Ezra, the air feels thick with a sense of neglect. Old, graffitied buildings line the streets, their paint peeling and colors fading. Vibrant tags and murky murals cover the crumbling walls. Broken glass crunches underfoot as I navigate the cracked pavement, the distant hum of the city barely penetrating this forgotten land.

In the shadows, an old cargo train looms, its rusted cars a stark contrast against the urban backdrop. Weeds sprout between the tracks, reclaiming the space as nature begins to weave its way through the remnants of industry. The atmosphere is heavy, tinged with a mix of uncertainty, as we pass by the remnants of a once-bustling hub.

Yet, at the end of the street, something catches my eye—a well-kept house that stands out like a beacon amidst the surrounding nothing. Its paint is fresh and vibrant, the flowers in the garden blooming with care. And, unsettlingly, it bears a striking resemblance to the museum—just much smaller and less appealing.

I shiver at the thought; I could go the rest of my life without ever thinking about that place again. My hand instinctively moves to my bandaged arm, and I wish I still had the hoodie to cover it up, but Ezra packed it away with everything else.

"That has to be it. She said we would know it when we see it, right?" He asks, and I nod.

"I don't know where else it would be. She was kind of speaking in code. There were probably listening microphones around or something," I decided.

"That wouldn't surprise me. She better answer some questions because I did not walk in there expecting all of... that."

"Yeah, I agree." What color is that paint? Why does she have a two-story house if it's just her? Is it really just her? Oh no, does she live with other people? I'm not sure I'm up for meeting anyone new right now.

Ezra hesitates for a moment before stepping onto the porch, the wood creaking beneath his weight. He lifts his fist to knock but Louisa must've been watching for them. "Welcome to Old Terenti," she sighs, gesturing to the sad town. "Come on inside," she steps aside to let us through. The moment we enter, I'm hit by a sudden drop in temperature. "It's always a bit cold in here," she explains, closing the door behind us. "I have a few experiments going, and they require certain conditions." Despite the chill, the space is surprisingly comforting. It reminds me of home. Geeze, how long have we been away? My parents might just kill me.

As I take a closer look around, I notice the living room, kitchen, and hallway leading to the bathroom are organized, each space meticulously arranged with just the bare necessities. A small, well-worn couch faces a tiny coffee table stacked with books and scattered papers, while the kitchen features just enough appliances for daily living. Yet, in stark contrast, the rest of the house feels overlooked. Boxes overflow with unremembered items, and dust clings to surfaces, making it clear that Louisa has her priorities. I notice a pillow and two woven blankets strewn on a chair adjacent to the couch, in similar condition.

"Do you not want to sleep in a bedroom?"

She plops down onto the rocking chair and acknowledges, "It's a big house. I prefer having all of my things in one area." Her gaze drops to my arm and she frowns, a guilty look crossing her features.

"Please tell me you were just being stupid and cut yourself on the tree?"

"Afraid not," Ezra answers for me, sitting down on the couch, cushion farthest from Louisa. So here I am, stuck in the middle of them. Great.

"Those damn robots make everyone's lives so much harder," she grumbles, picking at her nails. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from reacting.

"Ez, didn't you have some questions?" I say, trying to inject some enthusiasm into my voice.