INKWORLD

CHAPTER TWELVE

June 26, 2091

I walked around the house, taking it in. The peeling walls seemed to have been redecorated with ink. It was a rainbow of colours ranging from black to red to blue. I felt like I could appreciate the ink if I didn't know the damage it caused.

There were furniture also, some looked like they had been used recently and others looked like they were forgotten.

I got to the staircase and after a brief moment of thought, decided to go up. I wondered if this house had a family living in it. It was big enough to house several families, just like my parent's house.

I imagined a little happy girl living with her parents. I ran my hand over the bannister of the staircase imagining the little girl sliding down it. A smile spread on my face as my mind visualized the girl's mother standing at the bottom of the stairs, hands akimbo and a stern look on her face.

As I thought of the different memories that might have been created in the house, I came across picture frames hung on the wall. I moved closer to inspect them and see if my guess was right but I was disappointed as I moved from picture to picture. The glass over the frame had either cracked or completely fallen off. That had given the ink enough to ruin the pictures.

The ink ruins everything, I thought bitterly.

I stopped as I got to one of the pictures that looked like it hadn't suffered too much from the ink. I couldn't see much but I was sure it was a family picture and a little girl was standing with them.

"We met her in the house all alone," a voice behind me startled me. I whirled around to see a man standing behind me. He was staring at the picture and didn't seem to noticed that he had scared me. "There was no one with her but it wasn't hard to figure out where they had all gone, the puddles of ink spread around the house was clue enough."

A chill ran down my spine.

"She was scared and didn't let anyone touch her at first." He turned to me, but his eyes looked blank. "We later found out she was infected."

I frowned. "Wasn't she a child? Isn't, I mean," I quickly corrected myself, it was wrong of me to assume that she was dead.

He sighed and turned away from me. "You're right." I wanted to ask what he meant-even though I had a clue-but he continued talking. "She was among the few rare cases of child infection. She was in so much pain, so much pain." He squeezed his eyes shut as if the memory was too much for him.

I waited quickly for him to go on and after a few minutes of silence, he did.

"We wanted to help her but we didn't know what to do. Mr. Badmus-"

"Who?" I asked on instinct.

"Victoria's father. His leaf didn't seem to do much except reduce the pain. The infection was already far gone. One day we woke up to a scream, and she was gone. I'm just glad she didn't suffer so much in death as she had suffered in life."

Tears pricked my eyes. I turned to stare at the picture frame and the girl's face seemed to become clearer. She had braided her hair all back and she was smiling into the camera, her gap tooth exposed. Her big brown eyes held a certain light to it.

I reached out a hand and traced over the frame. A cracking sound filled the staircase and I quickly withdrew my hand and clutched it to my chest.

The man didn't seem to notice anything. He was lost in his own world so I mumbled my goodbyes to him and continued up the stairs.

I wasn't sure what I was looking for but as I stepped into a room and stared at a man looking out the window, I wondered if I had unconsciously been searching for him.