Walk Me Down The Hallway

Chapter 3- What The Hell ?

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Analee POV

That was absolutely mind blowingly, disgustingly, scarring.  I stomped down the hallway, back in the direction that I came from.  Who do they think they are? Okay, actually, on second thought, this was totally to be expected for the office's very own slut Linda.  But him.  Who does he think he is ? This was my home, my hallway, and that was my closet! And they completely defiled it.  Not that I was ever planning on chilling in a random janitors closet, especially now. 

My footsteps left behind loud echos in their wake as I made my way towards the kitchen.  My mother was going to hear about this.  No I wasn't a tattle-tale, I hated people who always 'told' but I was severely hoping that she could somehow get him fired.  It was a really far fetched idea, seeing as the law office leased that area of the house, so technically she had no say, but he was disgusting. 

Pro's and Con's list of Malcolm Reed? Lets start with the cons.

First: he wakes me up.  Well, actually, Teegan and Luke were responsible for that little factor, but he was the reason behind why I was woken up so god forsakenly early. 

Second: he hits on me.  I'm not a prude, I'm a girl.  A regular, normal, pavement artist type of girl.  In other words, I'm not a slut. And obviously he thought I was if he started with the pick up lines.  Come on, who starts hitting on a girl with 'nice legs, when do they open?' And in front of my brothers.

Third: He expects me to act like a love sick puppy around him? Alright, I admit, that wasn't so plainly stated, but he expected it.  That just pisses me off.

Fourth: HE PISSES ME OFF.  I think that says it all.

Fifth: He didn't lock the damn door?  What kind of AMATUER doesn't lock the door? Michael even locked the door, and he isn't the sharpest tool in the shed, if you know what I mean.

I think I've insulted him enough so far, so lets move onto the pros.

...

...

...

I have nothing good to say.

My thoughts were completely holding my mind hostage as I stomped through the hallways.  I turned blindly, and slammed open the closest door to my left, which happened to be the hidden staircase to the second floor.  I had discovered this enterance from the room upstairs.  This door had be nailed shut and painted over, but with a little bribary and a lot of threats, the evil twins had helped me unseal this room.  Don't get me wrong, they still made sure that they had in writing that I owe them.  Which is why I was holding tight to my collection of blackmail possibilities, just in case their favors were a little more... far fetched then I would like.

The stairway was narrow and dark, having been constructed in an era where electricity was exclusive.  Instead, the walls were littered with melted candles, held in brass or copper cased braces.  I never bothered to attempt to light them.  In the beginning, I never tried because they seemed like they had all seen taller days, but now, after lighting one for fun and seeing that it burnt perfectly, I didn't bother beause I knew the passage off by heart. 

The only sounds in the corridor were my socked feet meeting the ancient solid stone steps.  If Mom new how old they were, I wouldn't be allowed here.  In fact, if Mom knew how old and dangerous half the stuff in this house was that I had discovered, I'd probably be banned to my bedroom.  Hence the reason why she knew nothing about the secret passages and rooms excluding the fact that I found them. 

Emerging at the top of the stone staircase brought me to the first cluster of hidden rooms that I had ever discovered.  When I first found them, they were covered in a thick layer of dust and grime, but because they were my favourite rooms, I was determined to keep them relatively clean. 

The stairs brought me to the 'common' room, as I called it, or the sitting room.  It had the same oak flooring that decorated the rest of the house, except that it was way more scuffed up, due to the fact that I was pretty positive that this had been an area for younger kids.  I smiled, surveying the room.  It looked as though it had been abandoned at a moment.  Old wooden toys, a collectors dream, were scattered around the room, randomly placed.  There was a small round carpet in the center of the room, surrounded by plush pin striped or plaid chairs and couches.  In the far left corner, a rocking chair sat at attention, with a small rag doll on its lap.  To the left of the chair was an enterance to one of the five bedrooms that all came out of this room.  That one, by far, was my favourite. 

I stepped across the room lightly, avoiding all of the toys and scuffed up pieces of wood, and entered the room.  The walls were painted a pale blue colour.  Whether they started out that way or had faded over time was something I didn't know.  This was the only bedroom with the bedspread folded back, but relatively neat, as though the inhabitant of the room had prepared it to go to bed.  The bedside table housed a small, leather bound journal, and a candle stick with a package of matches.  The floor had a small carpet, over beneath the desk, which was piled with school books. Old ones.  I smiled and ran a finger across the open pages of the journal.  Anne.  Anne Marie Belhodden, to be precise.  This was her bedroom.  She had been sixteen, a year younger then I was now, last in the entry of her journal.  The pictures inside depicted her as a young, willowy type woman, with soft dark curls that reached her shoulder blades.  Another picture in the book was of a young boy, about ten years old.  He was sitting on the front steps of a building, with a cap and overalls, looking as though he really didn't want to smile for the picture.  These, were two of the orphans that had came here, lived here, and disappeared from here. 

I sighed, sitting on the bed lightly.  One hundred and thirteen orphans had lived here before the orphanage had been shut down. Anne Marie Belhodden and Benjamin James Belhodden, her brother, were two of those one hundred and thirteen.  And they disappeared along side the rest of them.  No one in the village knew what happened to them.  They were there, and then, suddenly, they weren't anymore.  But at the time, the war was a more important fixture in the homes of the villagers then a bunch of ignored children. 

The feel of my cell phone vibrating in my pocket stirred me out of my daze.  I dug out the Blackberry to find a message blinking on the screen from my brother, Michael.

Mom found out about ur 'tour'. Ur in shit. She said Mal is moving in, and u are 2 help him unpack.

Shit.

AN

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