A/N I didnt like the last story I wrote, So I started this one.
I didn’t belong in this dump. My family called it a vacation, an adventure, a mystery in disguise; I just called it trash. From the view outside the tinted car window, I could see the house, if you even call it that, I would be residing in for the next few weeks. Trees surrounded the whole entire house for miles and miles, never ending to the human eye. Now THAT was beautiful… but the house was an entirely different story.
The house was old and shaky, barely standing on its slender wooden stilts. The stairs didn’t look to promising either, I could make out a board missing, and I could bet my money there were loose nails too. The sky blue and off-white paint was peeling and chipping at every corner, and termites had obviously taken a liking too the house as well. There was a well behind the house; I refused to drink that water, and an outhouse next to that. I refused to use that too.
I flipped my blonde hair annoyingly behind my shoulder, and let my green eyes wonder from mom, to dad, to Timmy, and Han. I was searching for the slightest bit of regret, a TINY bit of resistance, and a little bit of why-did-I-do-this-to-my family; but all I saw were smiling faces and excitement plastered across there naïve faces.
“You’re kidding, right?” I blurted out from the backseat. My mom swiveled around, her blue eyes piercing daggers into my skin. “Hadley Ramon Reising,” my mom began in a sharp tone, “Do not even BEGIN this right now. It’s not the time.” She turned back around in her seat, thinking she had shut me up, but she hadn’t.
When I got going on something I didn’t stop. I guess it was my genes because my dad is the same way. “No mom,” I said in the most sarcastic voice I could muster, “I won’t stop. You’re dumping our whole family into this off the chart, termite infested house, with nothing to do for miles, for 2 weeks. I am not going to shut up because I had no say in this vacation, and I honestly think you are a naïve idiot for making us stay at this house. You really tried on this vacation mom. I’m so proud of you.”
My dad pulled the car into park, as my mom hopped up out of her seat. She was beginning to go off on me, but she stopped short. Her blue eyes went from fire to a calm sky as she forced herself to let the anger inside of her sizzle to a smolder. She hummed softly before she began to speak again, “Hadley,” She started off in a warm motherly voice, “Were on vacation now. No whining. No crying,” She glanced at Hannah, the queen of tantrums, “and no electronics,” she looked at Timmy, he looked up and reluctantly closed his DS shut. Her eyes traveled back to me and right as our eyes locked she continued, “Just nice, family time, out in nature. Understood?” Underneath her calm mask, I could see the fire burning brighter than ever in her eyes. “Yes.” I responded in a calm sarcastic tone. I even threw a fake smile along with it.
My mom didn’t respond to my bitter statement back, and flung open the car door storming out of her seat. I could here her sandals crunch against the gravel, the squeak of the stairs, and the old wooden door screech closed behind her tense body. My dad turned around from the driver’s side and gave us a once over. “I’m going to go find your mom,” He shot me the last look, full of disappointment, and crunched across the gravel driveway, up the stairs, and through the screeching door.
I looked over at my siblings, Han and Timmy. “What do we do now Nandley?” Hannah called me Nandley, because she couldn’t say her H’s yet. I laughed pitifully. “I guess go explore the house,” I said sincerely, “Its old enough I bet there a secret dungeon.” I wiggled my eyes at Timmy. He was 10 and was going through that boy phase where they obsessed over magic and stuff. I never really understood it. “Really?” Timmy asked me, his blue eyes swimming with wonder. “I bet you.” I said in the most convincing voice I could. He almost dived out of the car, Hannah wiggled behind him, and her little pink tutu falling to her knees every couple steps she took. As soon as I heard the door gently close under the works of Hannah’s tiny toddler fingers, I sunk my head into my hands and cried.
Looking back at this moment, 1 week later, I should have kept my head up. I should have kept my head up and turned it to the right. If I had done that, I would have seen what was coming in the next 24 hours. The thing that ruined my life; and my family’s. If I had kept my head up, and turned it oh so slightly to the right, I would have seen the girl lurking at me in the woods. The girl floating above the ground. The girl with no heartbeat. The girl with the axe.
