The Secrets We Keep (On Hold...)

Chapter Two

When I saw my two best friends, Kristina and Seth, come around the corner of the cafeteria, I shook myself out of my haze. They always seem to be able to get me out of bad moods. Just another sign of amazing best friends, I guess. They both walked towards the table I was now preoccupying, and sat down across from me. Almost in synchronized motions, they put their bags down on the ground beside each other, and then, breaking from the synchronization, Kristina leaned forward with her elbows propped up on the table and her chin resting in the palm of her hands, and Seth leaning back in the uncomfortable plastic chair and looked at me with those luminous green eyes. He knew something was bugging me, Kristina on the other hand, noticed as well, but didn't bring it up. She just dove right into a topic of her own liking when no one else said anything.

"So, are you coming to the ski resort on friday?" She asked me suddenly, breaking the silence. Needless to say I had forgotten about the lame school ski trip. The school held a trip every year at a ski resort up in the mountains for the juniors and seniors, and of course I wanted to go, but I lacked money and the skill to even step foot on the slopes.

"Why? So you can watch me fall flat on my face over and over again?" I question, with a fake little laugh, trying to make Seth believe I'm fine and so he'd stop staring at me with those questioning eyes. When I don't get an answer from Kristina, or Seth's eyes to leave their gaze on me, I give them an answer I know they don't want to hear. "I can't. One, I would be a waste of space on the slopes, and you and I know that I'd just be getting in the way, and two, I can't afford it this year. Money's been tight for my whole family right now. It's been like that ever since my dad... died. And don't even think about lending me some, cause I won't take it." I look down at my shoes, too embarrassed to look either of them straight in the eye. Even looking down at the ground I can feel Seth's eyes burning holes through me.

The story of my dad's death is a long one, and painful one, to tell at that.

Well, it was eigth years ago, I was only nine, and my little sister was only a few months old so she wouldn't remember, thankfully. It was late one night in August, and I was awoken by footsteps on the staircase. I was such a light sleeper, that someone coughing in the next town over would wake me up, I got that trait from my father, who was unfortunate enough to sleep through the padded footfalls on the carpeted floor that night. My father was sleeping in the spare bedroom down the hall because his job has him coming and going at all hours of the day, and he kept waking up little baby Rose, so he decided it'd be better for everyone if he just slept in the spare room. It didn't bother me though, because whenever I heard him get up to leave or come home I'd get out of bed and stay with him until he fell asleep or left. Those were the only times I really got to see him; he was gone so much, that whenever he did come home it was almost a cause for celebration to me. The night, a few hours before his death, he handed me a simple looking necklace. A small black rectangle, about an inch in length, carved in it were three silver circles with elegant swirls and dashes enveloping the shiny black surface. The silver chain swayed softly as he lifted it over my head and clasped it behind my neck. "There," he said to me in a soft, hushed voice, "Now you can keep me where ever you go, and I'll be with you where ever I go. Take care of it, promise me you'll take great care of it Quinny."

"I will daddy, I promise, with all my heart. It's safe with me." I had said, growing more and more tired. I could feel my father, slowly relaxing into sleep.

"Good," He said, his voice growing faint, exhaustion creeping over him. "When you're older, you'll know what to do with it. Protect it Quinny, don't let anyone take it from you..." He went silent, releasing himself to sleep.

Now I could hear the footsteps getting farther away, towards the spare bedroom. I was confused, I was sure I hadn't heard my father leave, and my mother has been so tired with the baby lately that a tornado could sweep the house away and she wouldn't know until morning came. I quietly got out of bed and made my way into the bathroom that conjoined both my room and my fathers spare bedroom. I was careful to avoid the creaky spots on the floor, where I knew from past experience, that if stepped on the whole upstairs would hear. Reaching the door to my fathers room, which was slightly ajar. I pressed my face to the crack of the door and stared into the darkness with total confusion, and then horror as I watch what played out before my innocent eyes.

There was my father, laying peacefully asleep ontop of the bed, with his work clothes still on, just as I had left him a few hours ago. One hand lay across his chest, the other, out over the bed where he had his arm around my shoulders before he fell asleep. It was dark in his room, but despite the darkness, I could see two figures moving through the shadows towards my father. I froze, my body immobilized, my breath suspended, paralyzed. I saw the figures, they were standing over my fathers sleeping body now, they moved with a gracefulness and quietude so eerie, it made the hairs on the nape of my neck stand up.

The first figure, I could see from the light of the moon pouring in from the lone window behind him, was pulling a small, about a foot, long, thin object from his belt. It was when he tilted it so the light of the moon danced across the smooth, shiny metal, that I realized what it was, and I almost screamed out in terror if it wasn't for the paralsis that had taken over my body only moments before. With a sudden  shift in the figure's arm, the blade severed my father's neck with such precision that just by looking at it I knew these people were defiantly not amateurs.

My father lay there, now awake, not making any noise though, with his hands at his neck where the killers slashed him, blood pouring out of the wound now covered his hands like gloves. His head turned, just a slight movement, in my direction, and then his body was still again, but his eyes screamed pain and anger and hatred to who ever did this to him, and then when his eyes flicked to meet mine one last time, all I saw was love. And regret.

When the figures knew that my father was surely dead, the second figure carried my father's lifeless body out of my line of sight and downstairs by the sounds of it's footsteps leading away. The first figure remained in the room and was erasing all evidence of death, and intruders, from the room. When that figure finally left, the room had looked like no one had even entered it in days. I was shot out of my paralysis promptly and I sunk to the floor. With my arms wrapped around my knees, and my head pressed against the tops of my forearms, I just sat there. Then came the tears.

"Quinn. What's wrong? Quinn!" I was launched back into reality by Kristina shaking my arm dramatically and screaming into my face. My hand was clasped around my father's necklace instinctively. "Quinn, are you alright?" She spoke with total concern.

"I'm fine." I snapped back. And looking at her face I saw that my anger had hurt her, and I immediatly rued even remotely raising my voice at her. "I'm sorry, Kristina I–" I took another look at her downcast expression and feel even worse, if that's possible with the state I'm in. "I gotta go." I say lamely, picking up my bag and leaving the cafeteria. I almost made it out without looking back, but all my willpower was overwhelmed by a sense of someone watching me. When I turned and looked back, there they were. Staring at me with the same strong, questioning and concerned look as before. Those luminous green eyes.