I sat up and screamed: “Sylvia!”
gasping for breath, I looked around. I was…in my bed? Looking around I saw that
my sister was not in her bed.
In a sudden rush, I recollected what
happened the night before. My sister dragged off into the darkness, the gold
and silver creature talking to me, and the keys of Elen: Sadness, Regret, Anger,
Revenge, and Pain.
I
started to sob. My little sister was gone. Some small part of me wanted to
think about what the creature had said about Sylvia being my twin sister, but
mostly I was too exhausted to think too hard. I just kept crying and peeking
over to see Sylvia’s bed.
Soon
my aunt rushed in and sat on the edge of my bed. She didn’t say anything, just
looked at me for awhile and then went out. A few minutes later she came back in
with a mug and a stack of pancakes on a tray. I continued to cry as she set the
tray down beside me and hurried out of the room, closing the door behind her.
Slowly,
I came to the fact that crying was going to get me nowhere, and sniffling, I
lay back down on the bed. My stomach suddenly growled with hunger, and I forced
myself to smile.
I
sat up slowly and placed the tray on my lap. Looking down, I noticed a folded
piece of paper between my hot cocoa and pancakes. I unfold it and read:
“I know you’re
probably in shock about your sister. But you need to tell me exactly what
happened to you. I need to know. So we can find Sylvia together.”
I
frowned. I remembered clearly what happened the other night, but I just wasn’t
ready to share it with anyone just yet. It was not that I didn’t trust my
aunt…well, maybe that was part of it. But I just felt that this was something I
needed to sort out on my own, at least for now.
Aunt Helena
I
sat. And thought. I thought about what happened that night. What could’ve
happened.
But
suddenly, I couldn’t keep focused. Tears flowed unwillingly down my cheeks and I
began to cry. I cried about my sister,
who was in the asylum. I cried about Sylvia, who was lost. I cried about Elen,
my elder late sister, of whom I loved dearly. But mostly, I cried about Evelyn,
about how clueless she was. Because her real mother was dead.
Evelyn
I sighed contently, patting my full
stomach. While eating, I had decided to search on my own, and the first place I
would search would be the house. Frowning, I hopped out of bed and walked over
to the closet.
I put on jeans and a red sweater. Suddenly,
a pang shot through me when I realized Sylvia wore a red sweater when we first
woke up in this house. I grab the bottom of the sweater and rip it off me,
putting on a red long-sleeve shirt instead. Shoving the sweater in the very
back of the closet, I stalk out of my room.
|***|
I sneezed, blowing up a bunch of
dust. The particles flew towards my nose, and I sneezed again. I glanced nervously at the attic entrance,
freezing to listen for footsteps.
I knew it would be a while before
aunt found out I was poking around here in the attic, searching for keys or
clues, but I had to be cautious, just in case.
Swinging my flashlight around, I dug
around in cardboard boxes, looking for something important. I only found files,
useless books, and tons and tons of papers.
Once I got all excited because I
thought I had found one of the five keys, but it turned out just to be an old,
moldy car key. I had thrown it away in disgust.
Again, I continued to sneak around
the piles of boxes, careful not to stomp too hard on the wooden floorboards.
Peeking around a huge pile of junk, I was surprised to find a giant trunk, made
purely of a silver metal. It had lost its shine, but it somehow still retained
some of its previous beauty.
I walked over and kneeled down in
front of it. In the front and center was what looked like a rusted lock. This
thing was seriously old. As quietly as possible, I lifted the lid and flipped
it back.
Inside were five diaries and a photo
album. Reaching down, I took them out and stuffed them under my shirt as
delicately as possible. I looked back at the trunk and examined the metal.
Engraved in the bottom left corner of the chest was the name Elen. I frowned.
The name seemed familiar. I sneezed again, and decided to get out of the attic
before I thought about it more. Smiling to myself, I began to weave through the
cardboard boxes and back to the attic entrance.
All of a sudden, footsteps sounded.
Flicking my flashlight off, I knelt behind a cardboard box and froze. Peeking
out, I kept my eyes on the attic entrance.
The footsteps got louder as they continued. Two
seconds passed, and the footsteps finally stopped. I relaxed the slightest bit,
and closed my eyes. But my eyes flickered opened when I realized that I hadn’t
closed the top of the silver trunk.
I start to shuffle towards the
trunk, but I freeze again when the attic entrance swings open. Aunt Helena
clambered in and started to walk in the direction of the trunk. Dread filled me
as I anticipated her reaction to the open lid the chest’s empty contents.
Listening closely, I heard her
shuffle across the floorboards and stop in front of the silver chest. Peering
around a box, I watched as she peered into the chest and gasped. I put my hand
over my mouth to keep from gasping myself.
Aunt snapped her head up and looked
around. I knew she suspected me already, but what could I do? She then began to
stomp around the trunk, routinely looking up, down, and around. The whole attic
vibrated with her tension. I slowly felt the album and diaries through my
shirt. They must be valuable to her.
I thought.
Suddenly,
a small box fell off a pile and landed next to the stack of boxes I was hiding
behind, sending dust straight up my nostrils. A sneeze began to build up as
Aunt Helena froze and looked in my direction. Silently, I began to think: Please don’t investigate the noise. Then,
Please don’t let me sneeze.
My
nose began to feel in dire need of a sneeze, so instead of covering my mouth, I
pinched my nose. But that left my mouth the only source of breathing. And of
course, breathing through your mouth is far louder than breathing through your
nose. I tried to keep my breaths as quiet as possible, but the huh-haah of air moving through my mouth
resounded in my ears.
“Who’s
there?” my Aunt whispered into the attic. She sounded completely terrified. I
mean, seriously, who else would it be but me? “G-Gib? She said, raising her
voice. Suddenly, she drops to her knees and holds her heads in her hands, like
her brain is going to pop out of her head any second now.
“M-my
sister…” she whispers, and I’m struggling to hear her. My mother, Ariane; is that who she’s talking about?
“My
elder sister…” Aunt says a bit louder. I frown, because something sounds wrong
with that sentence. But before I can think on it longer, Aunt Helena bursts
into tears and cries out: “SHE’S DEAD BECAUSE OF YOU!” I’m solid still. The
only sound is my aunt sobbing away.
I
sit there and feel guilty, because I have some relation to this Aunt of mine who
got killed, or something. But, I don’t even know her.
Aunt
shuffles out of the attic, whispering something along the lines of: “No…me,”
But I can’t quite make it out because she’s still choking on her tears.
I
hear the attic door shut, and I let out the sneeze I was holding in. Then in
the silence I take a deep breath-
-And
freeze halfway through my inhaling. Because as far I know, my mother, Ariane,
never had two older sisters. She only had one: Helena. The aunt I was currently
living with. Helena was the eldest. So who was Gib? And who was the eldest
child?
I
start coughing and hacking up dust when I realize I haven’t breathing for a
while. Dizzy with information, I start making my way back to my room.
Stumbling,
I somehow make it down the stairs and to my door. My fingers tightly grasp the
doorknob and yank it open. I take one step inside, and then shuffle forward to
collapse on the bed.
I’ve
had enough for one day.