WitchBite

The Talk

 As the night fell, a blanket of clouds blocking all view of the stars, sleep came unwillingly to me. I'd tossed and turned, no matter how I held myself I was in pain. I'd thankfully managed to sneak down to the kitchen, not quite as confident in my glamour as I should be, and stolen some pain killers which apparently, did nothing. Or at least it felt that way.

I couldn't even smoke, even though I'd tried, because my lips and mouth stung too much to form the necessary gesture to get a good pull. So I laid there, staring out my window at the waves of clouds that drifted gently by, hoping that the tranquil scenery and consciously slowing my breathing would help send me to sleep.

Strangely, or perhaps not so, I found my thoughts falling upon Aramis. I'd probably never see him again if he finds out how his sister died. I couldn't quite decide how a felt about that, other than how much of a shame it would be. But nothing stronger, at least I don't think so. Despite the few interactions we'd had, his over-confident swagger and cheesy grin was inviting and warm, and even just thinking about it now brought a smile to my face. Or it did before it was replaced with a hiss and a scowl. Smiling hurt.

Sad. I think I felt sad about the possibility of not seeing him again.

***

 Sleep did come in the end. Gently, and calmly, wrapping me in its embrace; like it had been there the entire time and was just waiting for me to notice and come to it.

It was hard to put my finger on it, but the house felt... 'Tense.'

Like there was all this built up energy of uneasiness. The nerve wrecking silence before the storm. I didn't like it, and found myself taking longer to get ready than probably expected. I sat on my bed for a good few minutes, simply staring at the door, as if I somehow expected it to open and be fine. Or take me away to somewhere happy, and free. But right now all I could feel was dread. Dread for the day. Dread for tomorrow, and all that was holding it back was that door. It felt like it was an unbreakable bulwark against whatever hulking monster lay beyond it. An air tight seal that would be ruined the moment I clutched the handle. Which I would do at some point, it was unavoidable no matter how much I willed it away.

I opened the door, stepping through in the hallway, each floor board creaked and moaned beneath my weight, each one giving me a slight dash of panic as my already trembling hand placed itself on the bannister.

I'm not sure why I felt so tense, so uneasy. It was so quiet. It could do with me almost dying and watching someone die last night.

I could hear the odd mumbled word come from the lounging room down below, and I tip toed in response. Turning the opposite way in an attempt to sneak into the kitchen and avoid whatever was undoubtedly awaiting me in there.

"Avery." My name was called, and my heart stopped. Somehow I felt like freezing in place would let me go unnoticed. But when he called a second time, I had no choice but to relinquish my otherwise perfect camouflage and enter the room.

It was quite the gathering. My eyes passed over the numerous faces that were all huddled towards the back of the room, behind the fine leather chair that held my father.

He sat with one leg resting on the other, wearing a suit and tie, his hands were clasped on his lap in front of him. His hair was short, and kept smart, being brushed neatly to his right. It would be darker than mine had it not been for the peppering of grey that dotted throughout its strands. His posture and state was calm and composed, even as the tempered brown of molten coal that was his eyes, followed my every, uneasy, step.

I looked guilty before I'd even set foot in the room, like me somehow surviving the ordeal was an unspeakable crime. It only worsened when I looked upon the guests that sat on the couch not three feet from my father.