The Ghost's Diary 👻 ✓

51. Shatter

The iron-wrought gates close behind me, as I set foot on the stone pathway leading to Edenfield. The wind rustles the verdure nearby, while my hands almost clench at my hair.

What was wrong with everybody today? It’s not like what I do is on purpose…

A grunt escapes from me as a strand of my hairs slaps my face, because of the wind. I jerk it behind my ear and focus on the leaning shadow next to Dylan’s Aston Martin. The tree nearby prevents me from seeing the face.

The figure takes his hat off, as he turns towards me.

It’s Alfred.

He gives me a swift bow before I can say anything, and I resist the urge to grind my teeth.

Instead, I put my hands on my hips and say:
“What’re you doing here? I mean- next to this car.”

Calm down.

I can't.

His brown irises arch towards me as he says, “Don’t you know?”

My shoulders flinch at him.

“Your brother is leaving for Ireland, today. Don’t you remember when he told you that at the fencing court?”

My mouth and hands drop.
“He never told me that he was going today.”

Alfred tries to say something else, but I keep pounding towards Edenfield. I expect the door of the Main Entrance to block my path, but it’s already open.

I wave the door behind me, and the tall-rosewood cupboard calls out to me. With tightened lips, my hand touches the silver handle of the coat cupboard and swings its left wing open. There’s only one coat in there, and it’s ancient.

He’s really packing.

My head turns at the sudden clang of various items nearby. I don’t know exactly what it is, but it seems to be coming from the far end of the East Wing.

That's where Dylan's room is.

The cupboard’s wing sways back and forth from my grasp, as my eyes scan the surroundings.
The wing hits the cupboard’s magnet, instantly closing behind me.

Now or never.

I march towards the far end of the East Wing. Thunders rumbles from the outside, making the chandelier near the staircase and me rock.
The kitchen and a clump of grey hair escapes my view. I ignore both.        

The door to Dylan’s room is slightly ajar, providing very little view of its interior. The floor proves to be a soft cushion for my falling bag, as I lean down to get a better view. Dylan is shuffling some of his clothes into a packing cube. He looks up from the cube, making me hide myself behind the door.

He does not come at my direction, rather he just goes to his dressing table and opens a drawer to find the M. M’s letter that I left him there.

The mirror of the dressing table gives me a clear view of his expressions as he reads the letter. His brows furrow and his eyes shut tight as he puts the letter back into the drawer. When he opens his eyes, his gaze follows my reflection in the mirror.

My right hand creaks opens the door, before it falls down to meet my left hand. Dylan turns around and his eyes widen a bit but they narrow themselves within a few moments.

“Lindsey.” He looks at the clock on top of his bed. “Aren’t you supposed to be at school?”

“Mr Henley let us out earlier today.”