"Only one room is locked," Adrian says, "and you know what locked doors mean."
"Secrets," I sigh, "which room?"
"The attic."
"That screams creepy. Maybe I can skip out on this one."
"Are you afraid, little Rose?"
"Fear isn't in my vocabulary," I snap. "Well go on then, lead the way."
Adrian raises his eyebrows before turning on his heels and heading back into the house. I follow a few steps behind him as he leads me to the first stairway at the entry. I haven't been upstairs before.
Most of the doors are left open, and I peak in at the antique furniture. Iris takes me to a thin hallway. Right at the end is a dark brown wooden door. Sealed shut.
"This is it," Iris says, leaning on the walls of the corridor.
"How do you suppose we open it?" I ask.
He smiles at me, "haven't you ever picked a lock before?"
My expressions shifts. From light-hearted and teasing, to tense and anxious. Like a movie replaying, different images flash in my head. Images I try to supress and ignore. Things I try to forget. People I don't want to remember.
Cold. Dark. Locked.
Iris observes me confusedly. "You alright? It was just a joke."
"Yeah," I stutter, focusing on the task at hand and regaining my composure. "Got a little side-tracked."
He shakes his head, refocussing on the door. "I was thinking we could break it down somehow, then have it repaired and say we were making ferocious love that got a little too ferocious."
"Never say those words again." I roll my eyes, but can't help my mind but wandering to his excuse. I push the thought away. "I'll pick the lock."
"You can actually pick locks?"
"Yes," I grumble, "don't ask."
"But I'm intrigued. Who taught you to pick a lock?"
"Is it really relevant?"
He nods, eyes boring into me. He has pretty eyes. They're a soft caramel brown – almost golden. When he looks at me, it almost feels like he's breaking down the walls inside me. I don't like opening up to people, but he seems so genuinely interested and sensitive. He makes me want to talk to him.
"I taught myself. I used to get myself locked in rooms a lot when I was younger. Bad habit." I sigh, looking down at my hands.
He furrows his brows gently, like he's trying to pry more information from me.
I fold. "I used to get locked in rooms for... misbehaving."
"That doesn't sound nice."
"Definitely not."
"For how long? Like, an hour?"
"Sometimes. Sometimes more." My stomach tenses and I feel my face clenching.
"How much more?" his expression softens and his eyes melt with concern.
"Few days. Never more than three." I bite my lip thinking back to before I lived with my Auntie and Uncle.
He reaches behind his head to rub the back of his neck, now looking at the floor. Probably unsure of what to say.
"I just majorly creeped you out, didn't I?" I force a laugh.
YOU ARE READING
The Secrets of Cedar Creek
Ficção AdolescenteThere's something right about Sylv. It's the way he makes Rose feel when he touches her. It's the way he can make her smile. It's the way they can be together for hours and still need more. But there's also something wrong. Rose shouldn't be feel...
