Mindful Fear

Chapter 2-

There has come a rattling that echoes through the house. At first I thought it was maybe the furnace or dryer, but it isn't. I don't understand what it is coming from, it is never in the same spot. I don't quite know what to do.

I go inside my house after school, and that rancid rattling picks up. Only this time it doesn't seem to be stopping. I follow the noise up to my parents' room and walk in. It is coming from beneath the bed. I get down on my knee with my palms open on the wooden floor. Beneath the bed is an oak box, green felt lining the lock. The box is not sealed. I question momentarily how the box could be rattling if it isn't closed, but push the thought away. I pull the box out and open it. The smell of gunpowder wafts out. There is a silver pistol in the box, and a row of bullets with a clear imprint from a missing bullet. It clicks in my mind and I reel back on my heels. She couldn't have killed him. She loved him! I didn't want to believe it. I flee the room, kicking the box back under the bed. I hear a car braking out front and the known honk of the school bus. I look out the window to see Hannah skipping toward the house, a smile on her face, her hair flying behind her shoulders.

That rattling has stopped, yet the blankness is almost worse. The image of the gun won't go away. Every time I see my mom I think of that.

I am woken up in the dark of night by that familiar rattling. I walk out of my room, and follow it to the kitchen. Behind the sink I hear it. I pull out a steak knife and slice into the drywall gingerly. It peels back in a perfect rectangle and behind the drywall is another box. This a clean mahogany check, roughly the size of a shoebox. It is smooth, and the moonlight from the window reflects off it. I pull the box out, it is of decent weight. I take it down to the basement and set it on my work bench. This box is locked. I haven't seen a key, like the one that would be needed, before. I grab a chisel and try to pry the box open, it won't budge. A certain urge convinces me to go over to the stone fireplace in the corner. I bend down and move the base stone, it lifts up easily and beneath is a clear hole. It is coated in spider webs.

I reach my hand into the hole and my fingers lock onto an envelope with something in it. I walk back over to the desk and open the envelope. I pour it out, a letter falls into the light, and a key clicks onto the wood. I push the key to the side and open the letter. It is stiff and coated in dust. As I look at it, sorrow sinks into my gut. The handwriting is that of my father's. I find myself reading it out loud.
T
"AJ,
Hey, Baby Girl. I know that it must be hard for you, for surely if you are reading this I am dead. If not, you can close this letter now and think of it no more. Yet, I have a feeling that isn't the case. I'm sorry you have to go through something like that. This key is for you, but only open the box if you are willing to finish what it will reveal. Such task will not be easy, trust me. Take care now, and be safe. Take care of your little sister for me, and I'll see you soon enough.
Love ya,
Dad"
Tears Welles up in my eyes and I put the letter in my back pocket. I hear little footsteps behind me.
"AJ? What are you doing down here?"
I turn and wipe the tears away.
"Just couldn't sleep."
I walk over to her and turn her around. We go back upstairs and I tuck her into bed.
"Sleep well, Hannah."
I smile and kiss her forehead before going into my own room. I lay on my bed with the letter open in my hands, thinking. Sleep does not come for a long time. When it finally does, it is sparse and light.