HIDDEN (Hide Or Die)

Chapter 18

KYLE'S P.O.V

More like,

who?

The question remained unanswered as she pushed me in the front seat of her car and jerked the car to life. After whirling around in shock after I had asked her who ‘shadow’ is in which she tried to play it off, but it worked on me not because I heard her murmur, “did I say shadow?” to herself but I heard it anyway.

She drove slower than Mathew and for that I was thankful. But at the same time, it elongated my stay inside the confinements of the car in which I didn’t want to be in. I sighed looking down at my hand that I had to—quite literally— pry off from Beaky’s hold since she wouldn’t let go even when she needed both hands to drive.

“Can you please tell me where we’re going?”

She took her eyes off the road for a second to grant me a look into her sparkling eyes before she sighed and returned her sight to the deserted street. “To my brother… he’s a— uh… a doctor! He’ll be able to help.” I didn’t like her tone on that one. Her unsureness unsettled me even more than her forced grin.

The blue Mercedes Benz she gloatingly drives came to a halt in front of the most gorgeous house— mansion— the prettiest thing I’ve seen. It was the epitome of “white picket fence” that I read all about through romance books that romanticized everything to the point of toxicity, yet I fell right under its charm.

But the sight did not soothe any of the— albeit absurd— thoughts and scenarios that I conjured up in my head during the ride. In fact— the pristine trimmed greenery and the fountain with the ever so clear water gave it a chillness that sent the hairs at the back of my neck to stand pin straight.

But no matter how bad my gut told me to flee, looking at the wide grin on Beaky’s face forced me to shove that uncertainty to the back of my head. Feeling guilty for doubting my friend and assuming she would put me in an unsafe environment sent bile to my throat.

“Where are we?”

Hell, if I thought the outside was grand and— cold— and— proper— then the inside greatly surpasses that. The marble floor was polished to clearly reflect my grimacing face, the high walls made me feel small, and the extravagant chandelier— well it didn’t make me feel anything, it was too pretty. Everything was too pretty and yet, I couldn’t trust the un-hominess of the place.

“This is where I live. My home” she had a proud glint in her eyes, that manifested itself into her ever so present smile.

A man— I didn’t notice was there— bowed as he took the keys from Beaky’s fingers, and said something that I can’t remember what, as I was focused on his three-piece tuxedo and shiny leather boots that I’ve only ever read about in books with fancy rich— elite— characters. I have so many questions.

“c’mon, we didn’t miss him. But he’s all the way in his office,”

She grabbed my hand, a habit of hers for sure, and walked me through a stupidly long hallway. Portraits, and magnificent paintings of different scenes and items- pictures of a family (I’m guessing) in different places that I only recognized two off. That being the Eiffel tower, and the Taj Mahal. We passed a few doors each had two stands of sorts, probably made of stone or marble, on either side. Some had flowers, candles, books or even a platter of artificially perfect fruits.

All of that lead to a wide, overly big— that seemed to be a theme here— space, with two different sets of settees that I would probably ruin by merely breathing near them. One facing the largest TV screen I’ve ever seen— I didn’t even know that size exists. And the other facing a fireplace, though it seems to be one of those modern digital ones rather than a traditional one. Yet it’s made to look like one from centuries ago.