Eyes Like Hellfire [Completed]

Chapter 8

I looked up at my Aunt Aggie, her eyes boring into my own, which were surely the size of the moon.

Her calm demeanor seemed like nothing, and to a person outside of my family, it would be. But I know better. I've known my aunt all my life; I know all her ticks and tells. And that house was the equivalent of sin to my aunt. So I knew I'd just dug my own grave since she knew I had been there. One thing I never really understood, however, is why that house was forbidden, why she would rather have me kill a man then step foot there. And up until now, I never really thought I would find out

Guess there's a first time for everything.

But it wasn't the first time that I would have had to lie through my teeth.

"I don't know what you're-"

"I'm not an idiot, Mickey; don't lie to me."

Her gaze hardened even more, if that was possible, determination clouding her pale green irises. But I knew my aunt, and there was something more between those green flecks in her pupils.

But why do I see fear there?

"Tell me the truth, Mickey."

"Come on, Auntie, it's just a house," I said, finally relenting.

"It's not just a house, Mickey; you don't know!"

I threw my hands up in exasperation. I was sick of the secrets and sick of the lies. I was sick of always being in the dark, and with everything that was happening with Zoe, I was at the end of my rope. I was done with asking questions; I just wanted answers.

"What don't I know? What's so important about that goddamn house?" I screamed, finally having had enough.

"Oh, God damned it alright. Eternal damnation, I promise you that."

She started to walk back into the kitchen, but I wasn't gonna leave it. I was too far in to cool down now. Not when I didn't have my answers.

"What the hell is up with you and that house, dammit?"

"Don't you dare use that language with me, young lady!"

I cut her off, standing in front of the opening to the kitchen.

"Then tell me!"

"You won't understand!"

And with that, she shot her hand out to the side, her palm open in one swift motion. Then, on the other side of the room, in the direction she was point, there was a loud crash. I looked to find a vase broken on the floor, the pieces shattered and shredded, like it exploded from the inside out, creating pieces no thicker than grains of rice.

"Fuck!"

Oh God, she never cusses.

I stared at the vase, and then back at my aunt, who was obviously distraught. She switched from her still position to pacing across the living room, her thumb and middle finger massaging her temples.

"You weren't supposed to see that. Not yet, at least."

My mind was working overtime to think of a logical explanation for that vase. To say that it fell or something along the lines of that was a perfectly normal occurrence and it is nothing to worry about in the slightest. But I came up with nothing.

And that, in itself, was terrifying.

"Wait, what do you mean 'yet'?"

My aunt let out an irritated sigh and looked at me, her eyes tired. And I wasn't sure whether she was tired of hiding, tired of my questions, tired of the topic, or tired of life itself. Or maybe it was all of those. It sure seemed like it.