The Secrets That Iie Beneath

Chapter One: Swords?

Chapter 1  

The sound of a crash opens my eyes; my body’s still tired and sluggish, and reluctant to any form of movement, but I haul myself out of bed. I glance at my bed and don’t bother making it because I know no one will see it so, I don’t see any point. Another clash. I walk cautiously, forcing my legs to lift off the ground with each step, down the hallway.

As I reach the end of the hallway my hand reaches for something, anything, it finds a small canvas painting and lifts it off its nail. I grasp it with my left hand and steady the bottom corner with my right, I think. Why would I need this? It’s not like someone’s just come in, left me to sleep and then burgled the place!

I first look to my left to survey the living room, which is just as plain and quiet as it always is- apart from the samurai swords hanging on a rack by the wall nearest me- when I know all is clear I enter the kitchen. I clasp my eyes shut, and place my arms- holding the canvas- higher and over my left shoulder; ready to swing at the intruder. I hear a slight giggle, harmless. I slowly open my eyes, relax my grip on the canvas and lower my arms. I heave a small sigh of relief and put on a half smile as I see who it is.

“Sis.” I say, slightly surprised, “When-”

“Calm down, let go of your weapon, 007.”  She interrupts in a patronizing way (which is totally uncalled for, due to the fact that I am actually older than her). She has her hands up by her ears.

“No need to be sarcy!” I retort.

“I wasn’t being ‘sarcy’ I was being patronizing, there’s a difference.” She corrects, lowering her hands to her sides. “And what was the point in the canvas; you can’t hurt anyone with a canvas, it’s not my first weapon of choice to be honest. But each to their own” She says with a small, cheeky smile on her face.

That’s when I realise how stupid I must have looked; I had walked into a potential threat and, of all things, chose a canvas painting to protect myself.

“Well, I panicked, ok? It was the first thing my hand grasped, so sorry if it wasn’t dangerous enough.”

“You panicked? Who did you think it was gonna be, an axe murderer?”

“Well, sorry for being worried about my own safety; you weren’t due till tomorrow.”

“You talk about my early arrival like it was a bus time table, ‘oh, but it isn’t due for another 5 minutes, it’s early’” she quotes, “and I decided to surprise you so I came back on an earlier flight. It might also be because I forgot to book the later flight and it was this or next week…” Her explanation trails off as I put the canvas on the counter, walk towards the cooker and pick up a spoon. I gently stir the scrambled eggs she had been making. “They were for you” She continued.

I turn my head to face her, keeping my body and hands in front of the stove, “Great thought but you and me both know your cooking is slightly, well, crap.”

She gives a fake laugh, “Ha ha.”

I pick up the pan by the handle and lift it just under my chin as I place a spoon of egg into my mouth, my face contorts to an unattractive expression and I walk toward the trash can, pan in hand.

As I move away from the bin I lower my head; am I sure I want to do this? Before I can answer my own question my mouth opens and spills the perfectly formed words from my lips, like I had planned every one of them. I obviously haven’t: that would be absurd.

“I’m glad you’re here” My mouth spills softly.

“Awww I know I’m fabulous, babe” She waves her hand by her left ear royally as she jokes.

“I’m serious, Callie.” I look up quickly, not quite looking at my sister’s face and lower my head again after a moment, “I’ve missed you, I’ve missed everybody, everything. I thought being alone would be perfect, but... sometimes I need a part of home.” My voice is timid, soft.

“Okay, Miss Serious.”

There’s a small silence, I’m at the sink with the pan (not really washing it though, just sort of moving my cloth a little, in delicate circles) and Callie is sitting at the counter trying to connect to my wireless through her phone.

“I missed you, too.” She almost whispers, but I catch watch she says.

I smile and hug her from the behind. “I knew it.”

“What’s with the swords on the wall anyway, that really freaked me out. I mean who owns massive swords?”

“They’re called samurai swords.” I say matter of factly “Why I bought them, is a mystery even to me. I was walking through odd antique shops and came across these three swords. They just sort of appealed to me, I asked if they were any other colours but the man said these black and yellow rimmed ones were the lot. The only original replicas the company ever made. £300, 300 quid.” I say.

“Rip off!” interrupts Callie.

“Shut up! I had just moved into the flat, they comforted me somehow. I don’t know why but they made me feel like, like the place was mine like everything belonged to me.”

“Great, I have a sister whose crazy now. A sister that has knives to comfort her.”

“Well, when you put it like that...”

“And of course it felt like everything belonged to you! It’s your bloomin’ flat!” She shouts.

“Whatever, you wanted an explanation and I gave you one. There’s a bed made for you, first door on the left as you walk in the front door.”

“Thanks. I’m so tired you wouldn’t believe.”

“Night” I reply as I make my way to my unmade bed.