The Grim Reaper's Daughter

Chapter Six

Sometimes you have to take a few steps backward in order to move forward.

"I recognize you!" her voice was high pitched, and her face was full of accusation as Bree sat there, looking at her. Speechless, Bree began to think of a plan. Did she have to kill her mother? Would she have to hit her hard over the head and knock her out, making her think that she was dreaming.

"You're Rhonda Watts's girl, Anna!" she said, and Bree let out a laugh that was full of relief. Giving her mother a bright smile, she spoke.

"No, I'm Dree Eddision. I just moved in the townhouse not far from here. I hear that you're the town historian and I was wondering could you tell me some things about the house," Bree lied quickly and with a straight face. With an equivalent expression, Bree's mother, Molly, stepped aside to let her in.

"Of course I can... a rich history that house has," Molly went on, heading toward the living room. Bree noticed that her mother had not changed much. She was still as peppy and as pretty as she had always been. The house had not changed much either. It was still composed of bright colors and pure happiness, something that made Bree cringe, remembering each day she had to live there.

But there was a since of nostalgia that Bree had for the place, and she knew that this feeling was coming from her bedroom.

"Now, you can take a seat," Molly said, motioning toward the hot pink couch that sat in the middle of the large living room, "And I'll go look for some papers that I have on the old town house." With a smile and a bounce, Molly rushed from the room. Bree smiled at her. Although she did not like the animation that her mother possessed, it amused her to see that it was still there one year later.

Looking and seeing that Molly was in her bedroom and hearing the rambling of paper, Bree found an opportunity to rise and  head down the hallway of the house, leading to her bedroom. The door was closed and the large sign on Bree's door that read KEEP OUT remained there. When Bree touched the doorknob, an image popped up in her head. It was when she and her parents first moved into the large house, and Bree's father, John, helped her move in.

"Daddy, please don't let her make my room like the rest of the house," the smart- alecky, 7 year old Bree stated. Although she wasn't as dark as she was now, Bree still had not liked the bright colors and animated decorations that her mother had bestowed upon the house.

"Oh sweetheart, I won't," John spoke to his lovely daughter, stroking her blonde hair, causing her brown eyes to twinkle.

"I want black!" the child yelled excitedly, "Black everywhere!" The laughter and playfulness from her and her father during her childhood brought tears to her eyes as she opened the door to her dark room and entered, flicking the light on. It still looked exactly the same, unmade bed and everything. As a matter of a fact, Bree could tell that it had not been touched at all.

Running her fingers over the smooth walls, Bree smiled at how this used to be her sanctuary, a place that she could hide from the world. As she examined the room, she immediately froze at the picture of her that sat on her dresser. Her dark hair had been curled, something her mother had forced her to do, and the black tank top and mini skirt hugged her body graciously, a sly smile on her face.

"That's my baby... Bree. She was a junior in high school," Molly startled Bree, causing her to jump and turn around.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be nosy." The look on her mother's face told Bree that it was difficult for her to be in the room, for her entire demeanor had changed.

"I'm really sorry. I heard a guy talking about her in school today,"

"That's probably Dallas. He was more of anything to her than I could be. Her one year death anniversary was today, and I did not even go to put a flower on her grave. But... I can't. I don't deserve to be able to stand before her resting place... not with the way that I treated her."