Dark Secrets [COMPLETED]

Chapter 1: Welcome Home

Three years ago, I swore to myself that I would never again set foot inside of Kendrick House. As I presently sat on a rickety train to the small town of Ramblewood, it seemed that fate had other plans for me.

My name is Calista Morrison, and until recently, I was in a pretty good place in my life. I was about to start my third year at Wilfrid Laurier University in Kitchener, studying Business Administration. Then, right before the new semester was about to begin, the school had a massive malfunction across their computer system and all of their data was erased.

This included my transcripts and proof that I was a student at their school for the last two years.

Since they couldn't verify my status, I was temporarily evicted from my dorm. I was suddenly homeless, and desperate measures needed to be taken. This meant calling my brother, Carlos, to help me move into our stepfather's family estate, which was a creepy mansion called Kendrick House, located in the sleepy little town of Ramblewood.

I stared out the window at the evergreen trees passing by in a blur. My reflection stared back—an olive-skinned girl with shoulder-length brown hair and stern eyes— as dread churned in the pit of my stomach.

I really didn't want to go back. I couldn't explain why, but Kendrick House always gave me a bad feeling. We first moved in when I was seventeen, and living there was the reason why I worked so hard at graduating early and getting the hell out of town.

At last, the train stopped at Ramblewood station. There was a large concrete platform and a rickety little building where washrooms were and tickets were taken. People stood sparsely around the platform, waiting for their loved ones to unboard. Among them, I saw Carlos standing in the middle, rocking back and forth on his feet. His gray windbreaker was unzipped and baggy and he wore a ridiculous orange woolen hat with ear flaps. I smirked. His quirky fashion sense was still uniquely his. I only hoped that our relationship had managed to stay intact too.

I stumbled off the train with my luggage, and he rushed over and helped me collect myself. He wrapped me in his arms and squeezed. "I missed you, Callie."

I hugged him back. His chin whiskers tickled the top of my head. "Missed you too."

He drove us home in his old beat-up sedan. A feeling of unspoken unease hung in the air between us.

"So...how's your job at the auto shop going? Is Murphy still giving you a hard time?"

I'm no good at small talk, but I'd have given anything to avoid the silence.

"Not anymore," Carlos replied with a smirk. "He just likes being a hardass to break in the newbies."

It was a useless endeavour, and the silence settled back into place immediately. I sighed and scratched an itch on my head.

"I know you're just trying to distract yourself," he said. I looked over, and he glanced knowingly at me. "You're not that hard to read, Callie. I know you don't like Ramblewood, and I know that you never liked Robert."

I cringed at the mention of our stepfather. Carlos didn't seem to notice.

"My point is, I want you to try to get along with him while you're here. Mom missed you, you know. We all did. It would suck if everything just went back to being miserable."

I never told Carlos why I left. I wanted to explain to him how living in Kendrick House made me feel — like I was living in the belly of some sleeping beast— but he wouldn't have understood. Even now, he would just think I was being paranoid.

I nodded defeatedly. "Alright."

He smiled and we continued our silent drive. After what felt like forever, we pulled up in front of Kendrick House. It was a massive building—grey and gloomy, with bricks that resembled stone and a weathered roof. The dozens of darkened windows looked down on us like eyes, sending an all-too-familiar shiver down my spine.

"Home sweet home," Carlos sang as we stepped out onto the gravel road circling in front of the place. I wrinkled my nose and went to get my bags. We carried the stuff up to the front doors. They were big mahogany doors with brass knockers. They were in pretty good shape, despite the age of this place. Robert probably had them updated every couple years or something.

Carlos took his keys out of his pocket and unlocked the doors. With a couple shoves, they creaked open.

The foyer was all burgundy walls and mahogany floors, like being trapped inside a dark meaty prison. It wasn't hard to imagine the walls pulsating like a beating heart.

"Carlos? Callie? Is that you?" Mom called from the sitting room, which was through the archway on the right. I wondered why she didn't come out and greet us.

Carlos gave me a nudge between my shoulder blades to go forward. "Yep! We're coming in!" He replied. I sighed and we went into the room. It was a couple shades lighter than the rustic red of the foyer—more of a rosy hue. The drapes were tied back, letting the faint light of the cloudy sky fill the room.

Mom sat on the old sofa in the middle of the room with a knitted blanket wrapped around her. The TV against the wall played an episode of Alias Grace. She looked at us and smiled warmly. Her right leg rested on the coffee table and I noticed that she wore a grey cast on her foot.

"Hi Mom," I greeted her.

She beckoned me over and gave me a big hug. "Hi, sweetheart! It's been a while, hasn't it!"

I winced. "Yeah...I guess it has. Time flies, and all that."

"I'll go put your bags upstairs, sis," Carlos said, pointedly. "You two can catch up in the meantime." He gave me a look, and I rolled my eyes. Then he left the room.

I sat gingerly next to Mom on the couch. "So...how have you been?" I asked.

"Well, apart from this," she tapped the hard surface of her cast, "I've been alright. I was at work when I fell down a flight of stairs and fractured my ankle."

"Jeez, that sucks. I'm sorry, Mama."

"Yeah, it wasn't fun. But I'm okay now." She smiled. "Robert's been taking care of me. Isn't that sweet?"

A snort escaped me. Robert and the word "sweet" do not belong together, based on my experiences with the man.

Mom glared disapprovingly at me. "I know that you two haven't gotten along since we moved here, but could you please try and be nice to him? I've talked to him and he agrees that he can be a little... intimidating sometimes. He doesn't mean it, you know."

I found that hard to believe, but I nodded anyway.

"How are things going for you right now?" She asked, changing the subject. "Carlos told me about what happened with your school. How they managed to lose all that information is beyond me. And couldn't one of your teachers have vouched for you about studying there for three years? I mean, seriously!"

"Well I don't talk much in class, so clearly they don't even know I exist."

Mom chuckled. "You're a good old-fashioned introvert, just like your dad." She stared down at her hands.

I knew what that gesture meant—she was trying not to think about something. Probably the divorce.

Things didn't end well between her and my dad, and they haven't talked to each other since. Hell, he hadn't talked to any of us since. I worried that she thought I was just like Dad—that I was trying to get away from her by moving out.

"I wasn't trying to abandon you, you know," I said. "By moving out, I mean."

She smiled, but it felt forced. "I know, sweetheart." Then she cleared her throat. "You should go unpack. I've got to get back to my show!"

I chuckled. "Sure. See you later, mom." I hugged her once more before leaving and going upstairs.