Becky's Doll

Chapter 24

Dedicated to Redwolf_72

EZRA'S HOME WAS'NT WHAT I had expected it to be. It was darkened by the shades of large old trees. The air was cool, damp and mystified. It probably rained a lot in this part of the town. The neighbourhood was deathly quiet and was inhabited by few similarly built houses and large silver barked trees.

His moderately sized house looked well furnished even if it was ancient. The colour of the walls were fading. I rang the old fashioned bell once again. The door opened and a solemn faced Ezra let me into a rather dusty living room. The interior of the house was decorated with modern furniture in various shades of dark green, grey and ebony. Carefully I sat myself on a grey sofa that wasn't accumulated by layers of dust.

"You should clean this place up," I told him, looking challengingly into his golden eyes. He looked noticeably surprised at my unexpected question.

"Y-Yeah, sure. Well, I don't get enough time," He answered unsteadily, deliberately avoiding my gaze. An awkward silence followed. The clock above me,on the wall, ticked noisily causing my heart to beat louder with each annoying tick. There was a huge framed picture on the wall. A young pretty woman had her arms draped over a rebellious looking boy of about twelve.

"Um, so why did you call me?" I asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

"I am sorry, Allison. I am sorry for frying," He said apologetically as he stared seriously into my eyes. I broke out laughing. Confusion clouded his eyes.

"For frying-" I giggled. I watched amusedly as realisation dawned in his golden eyes. Pink spotted his cheek. He cussed under his breath but so low for my ears to catch up.

"Ugh. For lying. I meant lying," He said, massaging his forehead frustrated.

"So why-?" I asked. His face darkened suddenly. He leant on the sofa.

"I found my parents dead in the bathroom when I was eight. It was such a bloody sight that would always be ingrained in my eyes. Police said they were murdered but left their investigation when no one bothered about it," He sighed. Oh! I didn't know he went through a lot.

"When none of my relatives were willing to take me in, they sent me to an orphanage. Two years in the orphanage was hellish. I turned unmanageable and naughty. So they put me up for foster care. That was when I met her-" He said, as he pointed at the brunette on the large picture. I turned my head to the same picture I had noticed before.

"My foster parent. My mom," He said.

"I don't like talking about it to anyone. And I didn't tell you because I absolutely loathe the sympathetic look that you are giving me right now," He said crossly. It must have been difficult for him to see his parents dead when he was just eight. I couldn't help but feel bad.

"I am sorry," I said sympathetically. He quirked an eyebrow.

"Don't be," He said.

"Well, you still have to be sorry for lying to me. Anyway, you are forgiven," I said bossily, crossing my arms under my chest.

"Really, James?" He smirked.

"Don't call me that!" I huffed.

"I made some lunch. So let's talk while eating," He said as he led me to a small kitchen.

"You made the lunch?" I asked, feigning surprise. I sat on a slightly squeaking chair.