The Cursed Victim

Chapter 4

Grandpa James was a happy man and never seemed to be able to wipe a smile off his face. Of course, that was before my Grandmother died. When she was gone, it was almost like he was too. Even though he lived five more years after the fact.

It was a while ago, maybe when I was four or five, when we last saw the house while grandpa was still alive. My parents were always so busy that we never got to see them anymore. We did live more than eight hours away, but that was no excuse. We should've visited more often. From what I remembered, Grandma Katherine and Grandpa James' house was the best place on Earth. Always had the record player blasting with classical music and the kitchen always smelled of apple pie.

When Grandma was alive those five or so years ago, the house didn't look broken and depressing. It had bright blue paint on the perfectly aligned shingles and gorgeous red rose bushes. Mary was once their dog at one point, when she was a puppy. But, after Gran's funeral, she came to stay with us.

Grandpa was broken. I hate thinking about it even now. They were truly the greatest, and if only we got to see them more, things would definitely be different. I remember when we last visited, it was Christmas. It was the last time I saw Gran too. It was cold that night and life was good since Jamie wasn't born yet. Gran was singing in the kitchen, probably making more pie. And Aunt Claire, my mom, my Uncle Peter, and my grandma Emily were there. She's my great-grandparent's only child. Our family wasn't small but it wasn't too huge either. The fired roared and the presents stacked high towards the celling. I know I was only just starting kindergarten at the time, but it was really the only time I felt normal. Like I actually belonged. My sister Carrie was always looking out for me and Katherine acted as if she was the Queen of the world and it was paradise. That was before grades and what other people thought mattered and when we weren't constantly fighting for whose better. It was almost like out parents have raised a bunch of attention-hungry-soldiers.

I remember when I used to look up to my mom as a hero, but then she stopped spending so much time at the house and more late nights at the office. The day she hired a nanny to live with us and be there as our second mom, was the day I traded out tiaras and smiles with black eyeliner and rock music.

The day we got the call from Aunt Claire about grandpa James, we rushed out there as quick as possible. Meaning about a week later, the day before the funeral. It was dark and depressing and absolutely nothing like my grandpa. It's hard to get into detail because it was just that, plain and simple.

A month after that day, we moved into the house. None of us wanted to. It was as if you turned the sadness and most depressing day of your life into a building. It was most definitely not the same place I had that last Christmas with my perfect family in my perfect life.