"THE PICTURES''
Black.
Nothing but black.
"I can't see a thing. You gotta turn on your phone's flashlight."
The ladder creaks beneath me as I climb into the darkness.
"Okay—fuck… it's dead," he says from down below.
"Just great. Bring the torch-first drawer in the kitchen to the left," I say, keeping my voice low.
"Okay, Blue."
Cade's voice drifts away, footsteps fading until I'm alone in the suffocating stillness. My breathing sounds too loud. The air is thick with dust, and the scent of wood rot hangs like a warning.
As my eyes adjust, faint shapes emerge—stacked boxes, the outlines of old furniture. My fingers brush against a cord dangling from above. I give it a pull.
A bare bulb flickers to life, swinging slightly, its yellow light cutting ragged shadows across the room.
I move to the nearest box that says "Mary's and Serena's."
Aunt Serena has Mother's old stuff?
I open it. My hand grazes leather smooth, cold. A small, old, dusty black diary, bound tight. Something about it makes my stomach knot. I slip it into my pocket and look further into the box.
There are old photographs from when my mother was alive. She looks maybe eighteen or nineteen, standing with Aunt Serena and another girl with blonde curly hair and blue eyes. She looks like a model.All three are smiling wearing some camp staff uniform. Then there are a few old clothes, dried nail polishes, and junk.
I close the box and turn around.
Cade reappears, flashlight in hand, giving me an unimpressed look.
"Seriously?"
"What?"
"I went all the way—"
"Shush!"
The space is crowded with relics of another life,rolled rugs, towers of boxes, furniture that's old but clearly expensive, each piece draped in dust. I'm drawn to a large shape in the corner, hidden beneath a white cloth.
I tug it down. A cloud of dust explodes in my face and I sneeze.
"Bless you," Cade mutters, stepping closer.
The picture beneath the cloth sends a chill through me. Two young men stand in front of a grand old mansion that looks eerily similar to this one, its dark silhouette framed by storm clouds.
One of them is Ethan, dressed in a light grey double-breasted suit with wide trousers, layered under a long beige trench coat, finished with a striped shirt and dark tie for a clean, timeless look.
The other guy, who has similar features to him, must be his brother Eugene. He's wearing an oversized brown leather jacket over a relaxed beige suit with wide trousers, finished with a shirt, tie, and sunglasses.
I have to admit,they have great fashion taste. But why the hell does Ethan make me wear shitty clothes?
"This is Eugene on the right,Ethan's brother. My mother didn't like him at all. She used to say he was a bastard, but I don't think Ethan is anything less."
"Hm… where is he now?"
"I don't know…"
I turn to Cade, and he looks at me.
"Yes," I say, staring at the picture as something clicks in my head. "Hey, Cade, I found a d—"
The roar of an engine cuts me off. My heart lurches.
We lock eyes. No words needed.
Down the ladder in seconds, feet hitting the floor hard. My pulse is so fast it's dizzying.
"The window," Cade hisses.
We rush to the living room and he opens it.
He slips outside in a flash, leaving me alone again.
The front door swings open five minutes later. Aunt Serena stumbles inside, her arm looped around Ethan's as he guides her in. Her lipstick is smudged, her eyes glassy. I've only ever known her as composed and elegant—never like this.
Meanwhile, Uncle looks better. Composed. Always.
I sit on the couch, remote in hand, pretending to watch TV.
"Um… is she okay?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.
Ethan nods, voice low. "Yes. Just… drank a little too much."
"Oh."
He doesn't elaborate, just leads her toward the bedroom, his coat hanging loosely from his arm.
My heartbeat hasn't slowed. That was far too close.
I sit in silence, pretending to watch the movie I put on.
Just as I'm about to leave, I see Ethan descending the stairs with a cigar in his hand. His dark golden hair is slightly disheveled and he looks tired—but still handsome.
He looks like one of those majestic older guys you notice when you're nine, instantly get a crush on, and for some reason, your dumbass thinks you have a chance. Guilty.
He disappears in the study and me in my room.
I slip out of my clothes and take a quick shower.
Rummaging through my closet, I end up wearing a black lace-trim camisole paired with loose plaid drawstring pants.
I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror. I look more alive,healthier and surprisingly not dead. My belly bump shows, and for some reason, I like it.
I turn away and pick up the clothes from the floor, and something slips out.
The diary.
Shit. How could I forget about this?
The diary is made of leather and smells faintly of cider and something metallic, like old coins.
My heart pounds in my chest.
I open it.
It's.. blank?