Dark Secrets [COMPLETED]

Chapter 3: A Dreadful Feeling

Robert made a steak dinner, with mashed potatoes and a hearty salad made of lettuce and kale. Carlos joined us and sat across from me at the dining room table. Robert asked him about his day and he went into a story about a crazy guy that came in with a deer head in the backseat of his car. I listened curiously, trying to blend into the background as much as possible.

"So, how are you doing, settling in?" Robert asked, looking at me.

I shrugged, staring at my plate as I picked the radish chunks out of my salad. Carlos kicked my shin from under the table. I jerked my head up to snap at him, and he gave me a look that said 'be nice'.

"I'm doing alright. It feels weird being back." I turned to look at Mom and gave her a smile. "I am glad to see you guys again, though."

She squeezed my hand. "And we're glad that you're back home with us."

"As a matter of fact," Robert said, dabbing his mouth with a napkin, "You're welcome to stay with your mother and I for as long as you'd like. I cannot imagine how hard it is to pick yourself up after losing your livelihood."

Wow, that was...genuinely nice of him. But did I want to stay here? I missed Mom and Carlos, but would I really want to live in this place?

As I pondered this, my gaze fell to Robert's plate and the rare steak he'd prepared for himself. Red and bloody, like a dark and meaty organ cut out of something alive...

My stomach lurched and I stood up. Suddenly I wasn't hungry. "Thanks, but I'd rather just try and find a job and my own place as soon as possible. I don't want to impose on you guys."

"Oh, you wouldn't be imposing!" Mom piped up.

"Well... it's a lot to think about, and I'm really tired," I fake-yawned and stretched my arms out. "I think I'm gonna go to bed early."

Thankfully she seemed to buy that, since she nodded.

"Would you at least consider our proposal?" Robert asked.

"Sure, after I've slept," I grumbled. Then I got up and left the room. I went up to my bedroom and slammed the door.

Carlos followed after me real quick, bursting into my room three seconds later. "You said you were going to try to get along!"

"I did!"

"Yeah, only with my help!" He sighed. "What's your problem with Robert? You act like he's a literal psycho! He's just a bit standoffish."

I wanted to retort, but I couldn't think of what to say. From an outsider's perspective, my reasons for hating Robert were pretty flimsy. After all, Carlos was right—he hadn't done anything. He was just unsettling, and the vibe he gave off made me shiver with dread. If Carlos didn't see that too, then I had nothing to go off of. "It's complicated. I can't explain it to you."

He folded his arms across his chest. "Yeah? Well try me."

I shook my head. "Not tonight. I'm tired, Carlos. I just want to rest."

He pressed his lips together in a firm line. "Okay. But we're not done with this conversation, so don't expect me to forget by tomorrow."

I rolled my eyes, knowing he'd absolutely forget by tomorrow.. "Okay."

He left and closed the door. I sighed and went to change into my pajamas for the night. Hopefully I would feel better after getting some proper rest.

~

Something woke me up in the middle of the night.

At first, I didn't know what happened, but then I heard the same whispery sigh from earlier and I sat up in bed.

I grabbed my phone off my nightstand and checked the time. 4:56 a.m. I unplugged it and turned on the flashlight. Then I listened.

The sigh came from across the room, in the direction of my armoire. I got out of bed, aiming the flashlight at the umber doors and padded over to it.

It seemed to be coming from inside of it. I grasped one of the doorknobs with my free hand and pulled it open.

The space inside was completely empty, except for my suitcase nestled on the bottom. "What the hell...?" I muttered, rubbing my hand along the back panel, expecting to find a hidden slot or a door or something. Cool air seeped through the cracks in the wood, and I deduced that it came from the wall behind it.

I turned off my phone and tucked it into the waistband of my pajama bottoms. I closed the door and, firmly placing my palms on the left side of the armoire, I pushed it out of the way. The noise of wood-on-wood as its legs screeched across the floor made me cringe, but it moved easily.

It hadn't occurred to me that this place had secret rooms or passageways—just the thought of it freaked me out—and yet, behind my armoire, was the outline of a door underneath the wallpaper.

Luckily, it still had a knob. I grabbed it, breaking the wallpaper covering it. It was one of those antique crystal knobs. I gripped it in my hand and turned it. Then I pulled.

The door seemed to open this way, but it was locked. I tried again, pulling harder this time, and the deadbolt still held.

Once again, the sighing stopped. I gave up and left my armoire where it was, stumbling back to bed. I didn't even realize how heavy my eyelids felt.

As I laid there, curled up in my blankets and trying to fall asleep, I felt like I was being watched. The feeling pervaded me until, finally, I drifted off.