Atticus

Chapter 7: It's Complicated

If it weren't for my desire to go to college, I probably would've bailed on Mom already. But I need her, even if she is a complete mess. There's no way I can get an apartment on my own and also support myself. So I'll follow her rules until May. I don't have a choice, no matter where we end up.

I promised myself a while back that I would bust my ass and keep up my grade point average. I just hope it's enough to get some kind of academic scholarship. I know I won't go to Princeton or anything, but any state college will do. And whichever one puts the most miles between my mother and I will be the one I choose.

I'm a few blocks away from the school, looking up at the enormous pine trees, when I hear what sounds like a voice or maybe my name-I can't be sure. But I definitely heard something. I stop and scan the area, searching for someone who might have called for me, trying to figure out who would even know me. But there's no one around.

The house I'm stopped in front of looks like it's straight out of a Bates Motel movie. I saw it for the first time when Mom and I drove by a week ago. Even though it's old and abandoned it feels overwhelmingly inviting. Like I want to curl up on an imaginary porch swing and gaze at the sky. But there's something about it that makes me uneasy. Somehow it feels familiar, which is crazy since I've never even been to this town before, never mind anywhere near this house.

I'm almost sad to see the original white paint peeling away and all the windows boarded up. The house must have been amazing at one time and I wonder why it's the only one on the street that's been left to rot. I scan over the house again, totally fascinated by it. The massive columns on the front porch frame the solid eight-panel double doors while its thick wood molding is covered with overgrown ivy, climbing up to the second story window.

The lawn is blanketed in tall grass and gigantic pine trees. A nightmare for any caretaker, if there were one. From where I'm standing, it looks like there's one window on the far left side that's not boarded up. I have to navigate a path to get a little closer and as I approach the window, I see that the glass has been completely broken out. Anyone or anything could easily sneak in with no problem. Which is a scary thought. What's even scarier is my overwhelming urge to go inside. And that's probably a really bad idea. There could be raccoons, or worse, hanging bats waiting to attack me.

Nope. I don't even want to mess with that. The thought of anything in there other than a cuddly dog or maybe a cat scares the crap out of me. Letting my instincts be my guide, I quickly turn around, telling myself to leave this place alone.

The path I took to get here is riddled with pinecones and I'm pretty sure they're the biggest ones I've ever seen. They're gorgeous, so perfectly symmetrical, and I pick one up just before stepping back on the sidewalk. The wind suddenly begins to pick up, whipping my hair around my face. I think I hear whispering, or maybe it's my name again?

What the hell?

I wait for a few more seconds, trying to talk myself out of doing something stupid. But curiosity is making it almost impossible to listen to my better judgment. I can't leave. I need to get inside that house. This time the urge is stronger. Instead of questioning it, I decide to just go for it, promising myself to be extra careful.

The second time I get to the window there's a cool breeze blowing on my face, but it's not coming from outside. It's coming from inside the house.

Very strange.

Maybe there's another open window I can't see yet?

Taking in a deep breath, I close my eyes, trying to prepare myself for anything. There could be decaying bodies, or animal carcasses, or something that's going to jump out at me. I'm not sure I'm ready, but force myself to slowly stretch my neck past the pane. It takes a couple of seconds for my eyes to adjust to the darkness, but then the room begins to lighten up. My eyes shift around what looks like a bedroom. It seems to have all of its original molding and wood floors. It's actually really pretty. Well, other than the stained mattress and scattered beer bottles all over the floor. Locals must use this as some sort of party spot.

Gross, but thankfully, no murder scenes or visible animals waiting to attack me. I probably shouldn't want to see more because tiny goosebumps are popping up and down my arms, but the need to keep going is starting to overwhelm me. Trying to stall for a few more seconds, I stand back and look up. The window, which is almost as tall as me, has leftover pieces of glass piling round the edges. Walking through will be the easy part. Once I'm in, there's no telling what or who could be inside.

Breathe, Candice.

Before I go any further, I stand quietly for a moment, listening. For a voice, for movement. Any sound. Anything that might make me change my mind away from the stupidity of sneaking into an old house. But it's no use. No matter how hard my gut pulls at me to walk away, I want to go in more. So I start making deals with myself.

Just take a few minutes. There's nothing waiting for you at home.

That was easy.

Taking another deep breath, I cautiously tiptoe over the threshold. There's a strong, musty odor, like an antique shop only five times worse. There's no telling how many leaks the roof has or how much rain has made it inside the window.

It's obvious this place is old, probably a hundred years or more. And there are so many doors going to God knows where that I'm back to questioning why I was crazy enough to come inside. I don't get a good feeling, and I'm about to talk myself into leaving when I sense something familiar. It's actually very comforting, but as quickly as it came it's gone again. Just like that.

That was weird.

Shrugging it off, I push the thought out of my head and keep going. I admire the fireplace molding, running my fingers along the dark wood tones and bronze inlay when suddenly, a sense of warmth touches my face. I turn in the direction it came from, quickly realizing it's only the sun's rays breaking through a cracked piece of wood above the broken window. But it's more than that. It's beyond soothing, as if the stress from the past twenty-four hours is being sucked out of my body. It feels amazing.

Bending my knees, I sit where I am, careful not to break the sun's connection or whatever this is because I don't want this incredible sensation to end. It's as if I'm in a warm bubble bath and having my back scratched at the same time; it's pure heaven.