Chapter-5,part-2

CONTINUE

A gentle, but firm knock vibrates my front door. It’s almost

becoming an instinct for my heart to skip a few beats whenever I

hear any noise in the manor.

Surely, that can’t be healthy. Maybe I’ll eat some Cheerios.

They say those are good for the heart, right?

I walk over to the window next to the door, peeking through the

curtain to see who it is.

I groan. I want to be relieved that it’s not some creepy ass dude

outside my door, holding a gun and spouting about how if he can’t

have me, nobody can. Really, I do.

So all I am is a little sad that it’s not the persistent shadow

ready to end my life.

With a heavy sigh, I swing open the door and greet Sarina

Reilly—my mother. Her blonde hair is tucked tightly into a

chignon, pink lipstick painted on her thin lips, and icy blue eyes.

She’s so prim and proper, and I’m so… not. Where she holds

herself with regality and grace, I have a terrible habit of slumping

and sitting with my legs open.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Mom?” I ask dryly. She sniffs,

unimpressed with my attitude.

“It’s cold out here. Aren’t you going to invite me in?” she snips,

waving an impatient hand for me to move.

When I reluctantly step aside, she pushes past me, a wisp of

her Chanel perfume trailing in her wake. I cringe at the smell.

My dear mother looks around the manor, distaste evident on

her pinched face.

She grew up in this gothic house, and the darkness of the

interior must’ve influenced the insides of her heart.

“You’re going to get wrinkles if you keep looking at the house

like that,” I deadpan, shutting the door and brushing past her.

She huffs at me, her heels clicking against the checkered tiles

as she makes her way to the couch. The fire is roaring, and the

lights are dim, creating a cozy atmosphere. It’ll start raining soon,

and I really hope she leaves by then so I can enjoy my night in

with a book and the sound of thunder in peace.

Mom sits daintily on the couch, her butt perched on the very

edge.

If I poke her, she’ll fall off.

“Always a pleasure, Adeline,” she sighs, her tone high and

mighty, as if it’s just another day of her being the bigger person.

That sigh. The backdrop to my entire childhood. It’s filled with

disappointment and met expectations all at once. I never

disappoint in disappointing her, I guess.

“Why are you here?” I ask, getting straight to the point.

“Can’t I come visit my daughter?” she asks with an edge of

bitterness in her tone.

Mom and I were never close. She was bitter because Nana

and I were, resulting in me choosing her over Mom often. In

arguments and where I spent most of my time growing up.

In return, I harbored resentment because I was made to feel

like I couldn’t choose her. Because if I did, I would only be

rewarded with another underhanded comment about eating

another cookie I can’t afford.

She’d complain my ass would get too fat, but little did she

know, that’s exactly what I wanted.

To this day, the woman still doesn’t understand why I don’t

particularly like her.

“Are you here to try and convince me that I’m wasting my life

away in an old house?” I query, throwing myself into the rocking

chair by the window and propping my feet up on the stool.

The same one my great-grandmother and I tend to get stalked

in.

Sitting in this chair forces my thoughts back to last night, the

creepy note and answering all of two questions from the police

officer before he said he’d hold on to it for evidence and make a

report.

Waste of time, but at least the police will know that it was foul

play if I end up dead in a ditch somewhere.

“I have an open house today in town. I figured I’d stop by and

see you beforehand.”

Ah. That explains it. My mom wouldn’t drive an hour to come to

visit me just to have a tea party and play nice. She was in town,

so she decided to come lecture me.

“Do you want to know why Parsons Manor deserves to be torn

down, Adeline?” she asks, her tone dripping with condescension.

She sounds like she’s about to school me, and suddenly I feel

very wary.

“Why?” I ask quietly.

“Because a lot of people died in this house.”

“You mean the five construction workers in the fire?” I ask,

recalling the story Nana told me when I was a child about Parsons

Manor catching fire and killing five men. They had to tear down

the charred bones and restart. But the ghosts of those men still

linger—I just know it.

“Yes, but not just them.”

She stares at me hard while my hesitance worsens. I turn to

look out the window beside me, contemplating if I should just

make her leave now. She’s going to tell me something life

changing, and I’m not sure I want to hear it.

“Then who else?” I finally ask, my eyes glued to Mom’s shiny

black Lexus parked outside. Schmancy. So schmancy that it

almost seems mocking. A stark difference to this old house, as if

to say I’m better than you.

Being a real estate agent pays well. When I was born, she

wanted to be a stay-at-home mom. But considering the turmoil of

our relationship as I got older, that notion soured, so she threw

herself into becoming one of the top sellers in Washington.

Honestly, I’m proud of her accomplishments. I just wish she felt

the same about mine.

“Your great-grandmother, Gigi,” she declares, pulling me out of

my thoughts. My head snaps towards her, shock curling through

me. “Not only did she die in this house, Addie, but she was

murdered here.” I couldn’t keep my mouth from dropping open if I

tried.

I shoot upward, the rocking chair slamming harshly against the

wall behind me.

“She did not,” I deny. But if my mother is anything, it’s not a liar.

Nana spoke about Gigi often. Her mother was her entire world.

But she definitely never told me Gigi was murdered. I had only

asked once about her death, and Nana only said that she died too

soon. Nana closed down after that and refused to say anything

more.

At the time, I was too young to give it much thought. I just

assumed she was still hurting and left it at that. It hadn’t occurred

to me that Gigi’s death was tragic.

She sighs. “That’s why your Nana always had this weird…

obsession with the manor. She was young when it happened. Her

father, John, no longer wanted anything to do with this place, but

Nana threw the world’s biggest temper tantrum and forced him to

stay in the house his wife was murdered in.” She glances at me,

noting the droll look on my face from her insult. “Those were my

grandpa’s words, not mine. At least about the temper tantrum.

Anyway, the second she was old enough, he gave it to her and

moved out, and she lived on in the manor, as you already know.”

I face the window again, the beginnings of the storm pattering

against the glass. In a few minutes, it’ll be a downpour. Thunder

rolls, building to a crescendo before a loud crack shakes the

foundations of the house.

It matches my mood perfectly.

“Do you have anything to say?” she pushes, her eyes boring a

hole into the side of my head.

I

shake my head soundlessly, scrambling for a response. My

brain is numb to coherent thoughts.

There are no words.

Absolutely no words to describe the utter disbelief I’m feeling.

She sighs again, this time softer and filled with… I don’t know,

empathy? Mom may not be a liar, but she’s also never been

empathetic, either.

“My dad never felt comfortable raising me here, but your Nana

insisted. She loved Gigi, and she wasn’t capable of letting this

house go. It’s cursed. I don’t want to see you do the same thing—

grow attached to a house just because you loved your Nana.”

I suck my bottom lip between my teeth, biting hard as another

crack of thunder tears through the atmosphere.

Was Gigi killed by her stalker? The man she called a visitor,

who would come into her home and do unspeakable things.

Things that she tried not to want—but did.

Was it him? Was he playing her all along, sensing her growing

attraction for him, despite what he was doing and took

advantage?

It’s the only thing that makes sense.

I turn back to her. “Do they know who did it—who killed Gigi?”

Mom shakes her head, her lips tightening into a thin line,

causing the pink lipstick to crack. Those cracks extend far deeper

than her lipstick. She’s also been broken, though I could never

figure out why.

“No, it still goes unsolved to this day. They didn’t have sufficient

evidence, and back then, it was easier to get away with things

than it is now, Addie. Some thought it was my grandfather, but I

know he’d never do such a thing. He loved her dearly.”

Unsolved. My great-grandmother was murdered in this very

house, and no one ever caught the killer. Dread sinks into my

stomach like a stone in a lake.

I’m sure I know who killed her, but I don’t want to open my

mouth and say so until I’m absolutely positive.

“Where was she murdered?” I ask, my voice subdued.

“In her bedroom. Which disturbingly became your Nana’s

bedroom.” She pauses for a beat before muttering, “And now

yours, I’m sure.”

She’s not wrong. I took over Nana’s old bedroom, and though

it’s been fully renovated, I still kept the chest at the end of the bed

and the full-length ornate mirror propped in the corner of the room.

Things that were passed down from Gigi.

The bed is no more, having bought my own. But the same four

walls that housed a horrific murder are the same four walls I sleep

in at night.

It’s chilling—a little creepy. But to Mom’s dismay, it’s not

enough to get me to move out. Or even change rooms. If that

makes me a freak, then I would only fit in with the family.

Gigi fell in love with her stalker. The very man who must’ve

killed her eventually.

And now, I have one of my very own. The only silver lining is

that I would never be so stupid to fall in love with him.

Mom stands, a signal that she’s leaving. Her heels click, clack

off the checkered tile as she slowly walks towards the entrance.

She gives me one last look.

“I hope you make the right decision and leave this place, Addie.

It’s… dangerous here.”

Her staccato footsteps fade as the door softly closes behind

her. I watch her car disappear down the mile-long driveway,

leaving me all alone in this big, cursed house.

Suddenly, my stalker’s last words are much more ominous

now.

I’ll be seeing you soon, little mouse.

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