Ink || h.s [sequel to grapite]

Chapter 11

Chapter 11

"Harry?" I asked quietly, pushing the wooden door open further. "The job interview didn't go so great, I thought I'd come round and the front door was open so-"

The house echoed with my thoughts and the only noise that could be heard was the gentle breeze outside dancing with the trees. Each step I took was noiseless and the sound disappeared into the walls as soon as it was made. 

"Harry?"

Nothing. 

Venturing into his room, I found that an empty bed awaited me. The space where Harry should have been nestled up was occupied by the duvet. I found it odd, he would have told me if he had somewhere to be. He knew I'd had my interview.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a small black box on the floor beneath the bed. A small detail and one I wouldn't have noticed had I not averted my gaze to the floor. The box had a little note on it, and curiously, I picked it up and read the cursive writing.

'Sadie, whether the interview went well or not I want you to bring this box to the lake I showed you where I grew up. Only when you get to where I want you to be can you open this.'

For the most part, I abided and found myself in the vaguely familiar clearing. It had been a long time since I had been here last and still the tide rippled in its usual pattern. Only, the tides within me had changed and currents swelled differently nowadays. So much had happened that I was no longer filled with the hopefulness of a summer romance, but rather the remorse and regret that came from leaving. I regretted not telling him, instead choosing to redirect his attention with the lies I told. I regretted leaving at all; four years later and all I had to show for it was a debt and no job. I even regretted blaming him, he hadn't done anything wrong. All he was guilty of was his lack of awareness - and even I was the root of that. It's funny how a place can resurface such memories and emotions and as I looked across the lake, I wondered how different my life may have been if I had stayed home that morning and refused to board my plane. 

Any thoughts I had were interrupted by the tuneful melodies of the birds sitting in the trees above and with that, I noticed a log cabin sitting about a mile down from where I was stood. There was no doubt in my mind that this is where Harry had meant for me to be. 

The log cabin's door was open, albeit the handle was a little tough but with some manoeuvring I found my way in. It was relatively simple in design - furnished with wood and finished with touches that made it that little bit more warm and cosy. Windows allowed streams of light to pour into the cabin but also gave me a sense of unease, as though I was being watched by eyes that I didn't want to see. 

The bedroom was a little past the living room, down a corridor that kept the eyes away. Yet there was still no trace of Harry in there. The curtains of the bedroom were kept closed, allowing me a reprieve from the rest of the vast open plan cabin. I was only reminded of the box's presence when it tumbled from my hands and landed onto the wooden floor with a thud. 

When I had returned the box to my grasp, I slowly removed the lid and was unprepared for what I would find.

(A/N) It's been so long - four years to be precise - and I think I'm a little rusty at this whole story writing thing. I much prefer poetry nowadays but I tried. If there happen to be any plot holes from here on in, it's completely my fault! 

Also, there may be another chapter up today - fair warning, things may be about to start getting - how shall I say it - provocative.