“Home wasn't a set house, or a single town on a map. It was wherever the people who loved you were, whenever you were together. Not a place, but a moment, and then another, building on each other like bricks to create a solid shelter that you take with you for your entire life, wherever you may go.”
― Sarah Dessen, What Happened to Goodbye
Sarah Dessen didn’t know squat. Maybe for her, her house was a place of shelter, but for me it was an assortment of bad memories. Every corner held a promise of something chilling and my basement ensured that every trip down to that godforsaken place gave me a glimpse of “the dark side” as I called it. The basement was ALWAYS cold, despite its position and the one light in the room either flickered or didn’t work at all. If my mom ever did force me to go down there, I either ran down, grabbed what I needed to and sprinted back upstairs or if the lights didn’t work, I’d have to touch the walls all the way down, in fear of me soiling my pants.
Thinking of this as I walked back home with Irene in tow, I realized I wasn’t the bravest kid of the lot. I was tall, lean with average looks. I posed no threat to your average quarter back or ball player, you know, the jocks. The last thing I needed at this point was another jab at my self confidence so I snapped myself out of it, the less I think about it, the better it would be…hopefully. Instead, I focused on Irene; she had been quite ever since we’d started off towards my house, deep in thought. I decided on not making any conversation considering history showed every time we were alone talking either something terribly supernatural occurred or I yelled at her. Either way, I was going to avoid both extremes at all cost.
Before we knew it, we were in front of my house, a tall, tattered, old figure, standing amidst the darkness. My house blended in quite well with the eeriness of the surroundings, the woods gently starting way off on the side, a mini lake on the other end, and just the overall lack of grandeur of the house added to everything. As we approached it quietly, I noticed all the lights were off except the one from my parents’ room; they were probably getting ready for bed, they were never ones to stay up late and mom knew I never went anywhere besides I’m quite sure she wouldn’t have cared if I stayed out all night. Yes, we had a very lovable bond…not. It was like clockwork though, their lights switching off leaving the entire house in its darkness, making it one with its surrounding.
“C’mon. You can sleep in my bed, I’ll sleep on the couch in the living room,” I whispered to Irene as I headed towards the steps.
“What’s that?” she asked instead pointing at a small wooden structure beside my house, completely ignoring me.
“That’s the shed. You know, for stuff, lawn mowers, tools…stuff” I said shrugging at her, “C’mon, I’m tired,”
“It’s alright. You go ahead. I’ll sleep in the shed. I don’t want your parents to find you sleeping in the living room. What will you tell them? That you took in an abandoned girl?”
Clearly I had not thought this one through but I was sure she was making a big deal out of it. I turned towards Irene and earnestly looked at her, “honestly, they wouldn’t even notice if I was missing for days. Mom wouldn’t even care. In fact she’d be over the moon if she found out you stayed. Besides, don’t be silly, I can’t let you sleep out in the shed by yourself. That’s insane,” I said flailing my arms wildly around me. The fatigue was getting to me especially when I knew there was a perfectly good sleeping space in there waiting while we wasted our time out here.
“I’ve been sleeping out in the woods by myself. I’ll be fine,” her face told me she’d stand adamant on this, exasperating me in the process.
“Fine, sleep in the shed if you want but at least let me get you a pillow and a blanket,” I could see her ready to object but I cut her off, “ You know, you don’t have to sleep like a homeless person. I told you I would do the best I could to take care of you and you’re not letting me. Now stay here while I go and get you the things,” I was trying to be stern with her without seeming to over bearing. I looked at her one last time and turned towards the house. As gently as I could, I turned the knob which opened with a small click.
YOU ARE READING
Irene, My dead best friend [Wattys 2015]
HorrorJason is your ordinary teenager. He likes to be by himself and his supposedly haunted house. He's grown up ignoring every supernatural event that has happened around him only so that he can survive. But then he meets Irene. She takes a huge stab at...