06

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Chapter 06
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{music for the chapter:// For You by Tin Sparrow}
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"Do you want to go see the lake, Sydney? I've got a dock out back," my grandmother says to me. We've just finished  dinner and I'm stuffed. My father and mother seem uncomfortable here, always glancing at one another.

I nod my head in response. "Sure."

She points towards the large glass doors in the living, showing the moonlit view of the lake. I clear my plate in the kitchen and step out onto the patio, turning back to find my family in a heated discussion. Deciding to ignore it, I walk down the stony steps to the edge of the dock.

Jutting out, wooden planks cover the beach area of the lake. A ladder descends into the water at the edge of it, and two lounge chairs are propped up against a rock. I tread to the edge, carefully lowering myself onto the dock and sticking my bare feet in the cold water. The moon hangs low in the sky, giving off a faded white light across the lake. A gust of wind sweeps over me, rustling my hair around. I wrap my hoodie around me tighter, the air tickling my neck.

"It's nice, isn't it?" I hear my father approach, and quickly stand up, backing away. He laughs and stands next to me, looking out over the water.

"There's no need to be so terrified of me."

"I beg to differ," I grumble, my eyes flickering around. He laughs, an evil laugh that makes my blood curdle.

"Oh come on Sydney. What happened last year is in the past. Get over it," he says, looking over his shoulder at me. I glare angrily at him, marching away with my shoes in my hand. I can still feel his stare on me as I walk, and I shudder.

Walking back into the cottage, I storm pat my mother and grandmother, who look at me strange. But I don't care. I don't care about anyone. Slamming my bedroom door, I curl up on the bed and cry. I cry for everything he's done, I cry for everything lost, I cry for myself. It's all my fault he's not in prison, but I wish he was. I wish he was dead instead.

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Sunlight streams into my room from all the windows, blinding me. I blink my eyes open, and lean my head back on the pillow. Looks like it's going to be like this for the next eight weeks. I groan and cover my face with my hands. There's nothing to do here. After last night's episode, I looked up things to do here. And surprise, surprise, there's nothing. Absolutely nothing. Zilch. Nada. We are the backcountry with a few restaurants dotted around, but that's it. So my time here is going to be incredibly boring. I only brought four books, which won't last me to the end of the week, my laptop, and my music.

Staring out the window, I sigh and get up, changing into something more appropriate than my pyjamas. This family doesn't tolerate sloppiness, which I learned from a very young age. Tying my hair up, I open my door and walk downstairs, where my grandmother is making breakfast. She smiles when she see me, gesturing to the food.

"You want some?"

I shake my head and grab a glass from the cupboard, pouring myself a drink.

"Are you okay, Sydney? You don't seem like yourself," my grandmother states, and I almost scoff. She hasn't seen me in years; how would she know what I am like.

I change the topic. "I don't remember this house. Is it new?"

She hesitates, like she needs to plan what she says to me.

"Yes," she starts slowly, "My retirement house. I got it right after you came here last."

I nod, washing my glass and placing it in the dishwasher.

"So, what is there to do here?" I ask.

"Oh, so many things. You could go for a hike in the woods, or swimming, or a boat ride. There's also a nice store at the top of the road, about 20 minutes walk."

I stare at her, surprised. I didn't think there was much more to do.

"I guess that seems fine," I say before my parents come down.

"Oh, morning Sydney," my mother chirps, clearly in a better mood than at home.

"Morning," I mumble, lowering my head.

"It's such a wonderful place you have here, Louise," my mother coos to my grandmother, and I can see her beam.

"Yes, it's just wonderful. The neighbours are relatively nice as well, although they don't live here permanently."

My father raises his eyebrows, but busies himself in a newspaper.

"Neighbours? Are they here now?"

My grandmother smiles and dishes out breakfast for my parents.

"Yes, I believe so. One of them has a kid your age, Sydney," she says, directing it at me. I meekly smile, shuffling my feet about.

"Nice," I reply. My grandmother gives me a look I can't decipher and continues talking.

"I share the dock with the ones next door, an elderly couple and their retriever. Such a good dog. He stays with me when they go on holidays in the winter."

I mumble incoherently about how great they sound, and my mother notices.

"Sydney loves dogs, don't you?" she pushes, to which I shrug.

"They should be back soon, in the next week or so."

Shrugging again, I focus on the plate of food placed in front of me. I remember when we used to hang out as a family years ago, when everything was simple. Right now, I have this feeling that keeps creeping up on me, like something is off. Like there is tension constantly hanging in between us. I wish it were like it was before.

I shake my head slightly, to erase the sad memories that keep popping into my head, and focus on what on earth I'm going to do today.

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