Tainted Beyond Repair

Chapter One

Chapter One

The wind howled, piling up snow in drifts, blinding the evening with ice-white dust. I grimaced as the truck jerked over mounds of icy gravel on the slippery road. Glancing up at the windshield mirror, I checked to see if Stormie was still sleeping in her booster seat and she was, snoring blissfully. The loud ringtone of my phone brought my attention back from the road to the passenger seat of the Chevy, but Dad's stern rules kept me from reaching out for it. Despite the heat blasting from the air vents, an ominous chill had crept up my spine and I knew exactly why.

Blackwood Forest, a large stretch of woodland which extended through the state for miles, was notorious for the sinister screeches that rang out in the dead of night. The bare, leafless trees were cold fingers grazing the truck as we zoomed by, moving with an eerie grace in the erratic wind. The deeper that the pink crescent sunk into the horizon, the tighter my hands gripped the steering wheel. In front of our truck, the last car had dipped over the height and disappeared from view. Behind us, a few dark dots could be seen in the far distance. Although there were definitely other cars on this long, winding road into Alaska, the dread of utter isolation sat in my stomach. In a desperate attempt to escape the uncanny silence, I pushed at the buttons of the stereo system that my older brother, Dereck insisted that I'd need. However, what filled the silence was a static buzz which was even more spine-chilling that the initial silence. I turned it off. With a final glance at my baby, I poured all my effort and concentration into getting us safely to Anchorage.

* * *

After what seemed like hours, I eventually pulled up at the old house. My first glance at it took me by surprise; it stayed the same. Those bricks were laid one at a time, perhaps on a fine spring day. I let my eyes wander the roughness and how each is so very straight. This house was made with love, that's for sure. Nonetheless, the sight of the place filled me up with the memories I'd knew that I'd have to face one day; I just hadn't expected them to engulf me this early. Ivy and ferns grew through the crevices of the old winding stone path, which led directly to the colossal structure. The building loomed proudly behind creaky iron gates, flanked by rows of skeletal trees crowned in crimson, swaying gently to the chilly November wind. At its threshold stood the delicate marble fountain, the soft gurgling of the clear water melodic as it resonated in the surrounding silence. Everything stayed the same.

A tug on my arm had snapped my attention to my beautiful, grinning girl watching me with child-like delight. Her hair was the warm chocolate brown of pure earth, softly reflecting the light of the sun; each strand moving freely in an ocean born breeze, a compliment to her stillness. With eyes the hue of river green, in glossy serenity, her aura seeped into the chilly air between us. And in that moment, in that fraction of time, her smile was in every feature, and I knew I was home. Helplessly, I had to grin back and wasted no time in climbing out of the car and helping her out of her booster seat. Stormie learnt to walk last summer yet her first steps onto the crunchy snow beneath her feet were shake. It was her first snowy winter and watching her touch the frosty white and recoil brought a glad chuckle to my lips.

"Come on, Stormie, let's meet Aunty Maybelle," I called, taking her gloved hand into my own, "and remember your name is Krystal now." Aunt Maybelle was never fond on the 'thoughtless' name I'd kept for my daughter, but she was pacified when I'd let her choose the first name. She said it reminded her of snowflakes and that it would remind me of home.

Stormie smiled, but didn't speak, although she had begun to this year. Swinging her into my arms, I approached the front door and there was only half a second's hesitation before my fingers closed over the brass door knocker. I lifted it up and let go, cringing at the familiar, loud band that resonated in the air. Within seconds, the door slammed open and there she was: Aunt Maybelle.