The Unknown

Chapter One

My footsteps, as careful as they are, still make the wooden floorboards creak as I step on them. I stop and lift my gaze in front of me. There isn't a sign of life. Good. I gently lift my foot up and place it on the ground, a step ahead of the other. No sound. Phew. Another step. No sound. Third step. No sound. I'm on a roll.

Creak. Or not. Creak. I stop again and peer around. Nothing. Again. I take another careful step to be met with no groans of complaint from the ancient flooring. Why don't I just run to the kitchen? Then the sounds will be all at once and not spread out.

That's exactly what I do. Creak after creak sound as I sprint to the tiled floor of the kitchen. All of the noises becoming one in the chorus of squeaks. I wince at the sounds. If they hadn't noticed yet, they'll notice now. Even though I'm bare foot and walking on tiles now, I tiptoe to the pantry. It's three steps from the opening of the kitchen, to the other side. Small house. Big family. Makes a lot of sense.

I pull the door open, slowly, carefully, and reach in grabbing two muesli bars. They'll suffice for breakfast. Gently I push shut the door again, stepping slightly to the left where the fridge is. I pull the door open. Bottles clang against each other at the sudden force. I wince again. I'm going to get caught.

I wrap my fingers around the small, boxed drink. Iced coffee. My favourite. As I shut the door, the bottles knock and clang against each other again. Joy.  I turn but instead of heading back to my room, freeze. There she is. Arms folded. One foot in front of the other. Her expression disapproving. All I can do is smile at her. Not a normal smile though. A sweet, innocent smile. As though I wasn't just sneaking food and drink.

"I thought you would've learnt by now that you can't sneak around in this house without me hearing you?" her posture nor her expression changes. I feel like giving her a sassy reply. Oh, I can sneak around without you knowing. Instead I bite my tongue and continue smiling at her.

"Well I was hoping I could get away with it this time."

"Mmm," she hums her response as she unfolds her arms and takes a step forward. "What are you doing anyway?"

"Getting some food and drink and heading back to my room to pretend I'm asleep whilst secretly reading," I broaden my grin and squint my eyes slightly, cheesing, for extra effect.

"Well, you failed," she steps around me and pulls open the pantry, grabbing a muesli bar for herself. "You don't have to sneak around but I understand why you are."

"So you finally agree that reading and broadening my knowledge is better than spending time with my friends."

"I never said that and I have never thought that. You should go out and enjoy the sun. Enjoy spending time with your friends. Enjoy being young."

"So you always say but that's not what I want to do all the time. Sometimes I would rather curl up in a ball and read all day, while other times I would rather be with my friends."

"I know but for the last month all you've been doing is staying in your room, reading."

I sigh and run a hand through my tangled brown hair. "Fine. I'll hang out with them after lunch."

"Good. You have to go see your Grandma to give her some medicine as well."

"Why? What's wrong with her? Is she okay?" I feel myself grow more and more concerned the longer the silence stretches.

"She's okay she just has the flu. She rang and asked if I could take her some medicine but I have to look after Georgia and Mason."

"Okay. Can I go to my room now?" she sighs and runs a hand through her own hair. She nods without looking back up at me. Before my conscience gets the better of me I leave the kitchen. The floor creaks as I saunter down the hallway. I push my bedroom door open with my foot and once I'm in, shut it with my foot. It makes a quiet slamming sound – if that's even possible.

My room is about the same size as the kitchen. Against the window is my double bed. It reaches from one wall to about 10 inches away from the wall opposite. That wall isn't actually a wall, it's a built in wardrobe which is full of everything I own. I have a small bedside table beside my bed. There's shelves above the head of my bed, servicing as a book shelf. That concludes the tour of my room.

I drop the muesli bars and the drink on the bed before kneeling on the bed so I can grab a book. My fingertips brush against the spines of my collection. Some old. Some new. Some almost ruined to the point of being considered unusable. Some pristine and perfect.

My fingers stop when I find the book I am currently reading. If I stay. I pull it from the confines of the other books and sit on my bed, back against the headboard, head directly under the shelf. I pick up a muesli bar and peel off the wrapping. I take a bite out of the chewy, oat filled bar. Not the nicest tasting food but it does the job. I grab my iced coffee and pull the straw from the boxed drink. I proceed to take the straw out of the plastic and poke it into the drink.

I suck a huge sip into my mouth and down my throat. The coldness makes my teeth hurt but the sensation soon passes. Iced coffee, in retrospect, tastes nothing like real coffee. It's a lot sweeter and obviously colder. I place the drink on my bedside table and, once I'm finished eating the muesli bar, start reading my book.

I flick open the pages to where my bookmark sits. The page is stained with melted chocolate, courtesy of Georgia. Note to self; never let your baby sister near your books. I re read the paragraph that I finished on last time to refresh my memory. Soon enough the world around me is forgotten as I get lost in the reading.