Franklin

9 | of the beginning of the end

              
                The feeling of nothingness is very real.

                It’s pretty much what you feel when there’s nothing left to feel, when you have made it through your panic phase, your stress phase, and even your hysterical phase without a mental breakdown. Like, now your brain has just shut down. You don’t know what to do with yourself anymore, because this feeling, it’s poisoning your sanity bit by bit.

               Now it is said of poisons that if a poison is not acute, then it must build up over time so as to deliver its results. Naturally, the poison consumed becomes all the more lethal as its concentration in the body builds up over the exposure of time.

               A similar propensity holds true for this feeling. It starts out slow only to unleash itself into a Frankenstein’s monster, one which is ready to sink in its claws as and when given a chance. You lose sense of what’s happening around you, because you are not in control anymore. It is.

               And for this reason, I don’t remember dashing out of Barney’s. I don’t remember checking in at The Nest. I don’t remember. . .anything. It’s like, one minute I am having a good time, and then the next, I am sat in Keith’s bedroom.

               “Not gonna lie, I was expecting you.” Keith says after untying his bandana. He then tosses the piece of cloth in my direction. I catch it and place it next to me on the unmade bed.

               “You look funny when you’re scared.” He asserts.

               I glare at him. “I guess I will be able to say the same for you when I snap your little neck with my bare hands.” I am not serious, but it is an amusing thought.

               Keith doesn’t look so amused. He tilts his head to his left, like he is trying to figure out a math problem.

               “Start talking.” I say impatiently. “What’s going on?”

               “I can only tell you what I think is going on.” He buries his hands in his pockets, and sits down across from me.

               I shut my eyes. “Okay.”

               “A family lived in a house right behind this inn twelve years ago.” He starts. “They were the members of one of the six founding families of Franklin.”

               “But there’s nothing behind the inn. I uh, I checked.”

               Keith bites his lower lip. “It’s all burned up now. There was a fire.”

               “I am sorry; I can’t see where this is going.”

               He ignores me and continues. “The family, who owned that house, also owned The Nest. They sort of owned Franklin, in a manner of speaking. They like, had a hand in the construction of most public properties and architecture around here; you know what I mean?”

               “Yeah.” I pause. “But you are talking in past tense.”

               “Yes.” He sighs. “The family died in the fire. There were no survivors. It is said to be accidental, but I will let you be the judge of that. Everyone has theories. Some say it was the work of the second husband—”

               “Wait, there was a second husband? What happened to the first one?”

               “Car crash a few months before the fire. Oh, I know it’s all very sketchy.” He adds at my expression.

               “That’d be an understatement.”

               “So the lady of the house Elizabeth, marries this outsider, Elliot. He was new to town, and let’s just say no one was happy with his arrival.” He shoots me an apologetic look. “No offense to you.”

               “None taken.” I mumble. “But I still don’t see where this is going; and I will legit kill you if this turns out to be a ghost story.”

               Keith smirks. “Oh, no. It’s so much better than that. So by marrying Elizabeth, Elliot comes to acquire The Nest.”

               “And also the rest of the properties in her name.” I point out the obvious. “But hold on. Kevin told us The Nest belonged to your dad.”

               “Yes and no. It was up for sale after the fire. My father saw his chance and made a move.” He explains.

               “Was there no heir or anything of that sort in the picture?”

               “There was one, but not of age.” He replies. “So everything was in the name of Elizabeth, and by extension, Elliot.”

               I nod for him to continue. “The founding families were not very pleased by this turn of events.”

               “You are implying that—”

               He cuts me off. “I am not implying anything. I am simply narrating the story as it happened.”

               “What became of the founding families?” I ask.

                “I don’t know.”

               “What do you mean you don’t know?”

               “I don’t know what exactly happened, and maybe Kevin can tell you better, if you want to dig in deeper.” Keith stretches his legs and yawns. “But long story short, every one suspected some foul play and the founding families kind of lost their charm. Some of them sold their shares and left town, while some stayed.” He concludes.

               I rub my eyes. My head is bursting with questions. Questions I want to ask. Questions I am about to ask.

               But because nothing ever goes my way, Andy rushes into the room and interrupts us.

               “Stevie!” She’s visibly out of breath. “Stevie, I am so, so sorry. I believe you now. There was someone else.”

               Oh god, not now Andy, I want to tell her, I don’t have the energy for you.

               “Andy, we can talk about this later.” I suggest. “This can wait.”

               “No, it can’t.” She looks at Keith. He shrugs.

               “It’s cool.”

               She thrusts her phone in my hands. I unlock it. On the screen is one of her overexposed pictures from the lake.

               I give her an I-Don’t-Understand look.

               “Look at the picture closely.” She urges. “Zoom it.”

                I do, and then I see it: a silver pendant lying next to a stack of leaves. I wish I could say I don’t recognize it. I wish I could chalk this off as a coincidence. But the thing about coincidences is that they don’t exist.

               Five founding families. Five missing men. The time frame. Everything just suddenly fits.

               “The fire.” I mutter under my breath. I am going to throw up, I think. I can’t believe this is happening. “Someone did survive.”