Wolf Child - HAITUS

Prologue,

Her ancient mansion towered the blue town of Hemming's Haven.

In the distance, a lazy lorry crawled up to the path, followed by a sleek black car. They parked just before the rotting trees fencing the house, and quickly went into action.
 
Three men busied themselves with lifting tiny furniture from their truck and into the house. They spoke little, only snapping among themselves about the best footwork and relying on nothing but mutual understanding about where to put what.

And residing in her car, sat a classy girl, fresh into womanhood. She gazed at the workers without want of conversation. She watched, behind giant dark glasses that shrouded her face, as they imitated the workings of ants and bees.

Her name was Isabella Steele, with wit as strong as her namesake, and braided hair as dark as her intentions.

This mansion with all its majesty and hidden threats belonged to her. It was an uncanny birthday gift from a friend of a friend, and Isabella Steele intended to make this her dream come true. She eyed it daringly, letting her gaze flicker everything, from the wooden body to the glass windows that were in desperate need of cleaning.

Isabella's eyed the second floor, and noticed just how it held less dust than below. She leaned forward, bracing her car steering wheel when she squinted before her. The upper windows were just as large as the lower, but they were more in quantity. None had curtains.

Isabella scoffed, and turned away to look around her. The men were still in the house- and provided no entertainment, so Isabella craned her neck to peep at her neighbors' lodgings. 

"Hmm..." her voice low in her throat as her eyes explored.

The house to the left radiated all the warmth that her mansion lacked- it was the paragon of coziness with its humble garden and soft colors. And one particular room was rather close to one of her mansion's window. Close enough for easy conversation. Isabella turned away- and hoped that those neighbors would allow her a life of solitude- it was what she craved.

But when Isabella turned to her right, that mansion competed with her own. While hers was tall, this grey building was twice as long- with its taunting iron bars for windows imprisoning whatever monster dared to dwell in such horrid place. Her eyes widened, and she turned away quickly.

She shook her head, and told herself in a voice as soft as she thought the clouds to be, "No talking with neighbors... No talking to anyone..."

She counselled herself, "The less I talk, the less people will talk to me... The less trouble I will be in... the safest way for me to live... Just me, myself and I..."

But before she could allow herself to be bored, Isabella grabbed a silver handbag that matched her casual jumpsuit and stepped out of her car. Her car keys were carelessly thrown into her pockets. The journey into her new home was quick, and after she passed under her door- she met up with the three moving men.

She didn't want to take a good look at them. They wore similar yellow uniforms and held similar heights, but one was lean while the other two were much thicker. Isabella didn't want to remember them- and so she merely denied them access to her memories by hardly communicating. They didn't mind, and they told her nothing in return.

And when night came quickly- the men left with their lorry. Isabella didn't watch them go, she merely wandered about her new house, committing little to memory seeing that she had grown tired of all the new sights.

The insides of the house were old age grand, but held a plain air to it. There was nothing special about it- the floor was smooth wood and walls a pale peach that managed to survive the years. But yet, hundreds of dents and cracks around the mansion told Isabella that it had not a peaceful past. She forced herself not to dwell on that thought.