Sequel: Twisted Returns ›
Status: Complete - 71,220 words
Shattering Crystals
hesitating as if it were a prison
"Great. My brother is probably gonna call the cops now," Connor mutters.
"It still worked," I say smugly. “So you still needed me.”
"Whatever. Just be careful." He walks into his own house, hesitating as if it were a prison. I follow him through the door and the first thing I notice is the strong scent of cinnamon. It reminds me of Lorraine. The door leads into the kitchen, just like the other house.
But unlike the other house, the kitchen is in total disarray. This part definitely does not remind me of Lorraine. The sunlight filters in through the window, illuminating the many stacks of pots and pans piled up on the gray stone counters. Bowls of food that may or may not be spoiled are all over the small circular table in the center of the room. But the smell of cinnamon covers up the smell of everything else.
"Sorry about the mess," Connor says, in a tone that obviously shows that he really doesn't care. "My mom is terrible at cleaning up after herself. And she's also a cinnamon addict."
“Yeah, I can see that,” I say taking in the sight of the place Connor wanted to leave so desperately. It doesn't look that bad, considering that he is a guy. I come to the conclusion that he mainly wants to escape the people he lives with more than the actual place. Of course, it still might not be his home life that he wants to leave.
"Let's go upstairs. I need to get money from my parents' room." He leads me into the hallway and into the living room. We walk through another arch and up the winding staircase, one step at a time. It occurs to me that it would be better to leave me downstairs, but something about being alone in this house feels off. I don’t make any sound going up the stairs, though.
We reach the top of the stairs and Connor immediately turns right, away from the nearest door. "Cody's room," he whispers. I assume that Cody is his brother's name. He leads me to the right, down a long hallway. It's overly decorated with paintings and family photos. It doesn’t look like there’s anything wrong with his family.
We enter the parents' master bedroom, Connor gritting his teeth. I see that is it not unlike the kitchen - a huge mess. Clothes are strewn everywhere, and the bed is unmade. If you could call it a bed. It’s just two mattresses stacked on top of each other, just right there on the ground.
I ignore this as I follow Connor, hopping over various objects on the bedroom floor. Connor leads me to a large walk-in closet. He walks to the back of the room and digs through a pile of brightly colored shirts in the left corner. I stare down at the off-white carpeting as he searches for something. It reminds me of Leilani, which isn’t a good thing to be thinking about…
"Found it," he says, and I’m thankful for the distraction. He turns around, holding a small safe. I'm reminded of last night, with the other safe in the backyard. Except that this one is smaller, and it looks lighter.
“Do they keep the money in there?”
“No. Six... twenty-three... ten," he mumbles as he fumbles with the dial. He pulls on the handle and it pops open, revealing a smaller red box inside with a lock.
“Uh, what?” I ask, confused.
"My parents are paranoid," he explains. He hands the safe to me and reaches for the highest shelf, not able to reach.
I smirk at this. "Too short?"
"Shut up."
"I'll get it. Where is it?"
"Under those towels."
I reach up under a stack of bleach-stained purple towels. My fingers find a small, flat piece of metal. I pull it out and hand it to Connor. He unlocks the box and pulls out a large wad of cash.
“They don’t like banks, either,” he explains.
“I can see that,” I say, repeating myself from earlier. “Don’t you feel bad, taking the money like this, though?”
He shakes his head as he stuffs the money in his pocket. “Not really. They don’t use it for anything, anyways.”
"Okay," I say, realizing that it really isn't my business. Though I am pretty curious what his home life is like now. He shuts the safe, little red box inside, and stuffs the safe back in the pile of shirts. He casually throws the clothes back over it. He hands me the key and I shove it back under the towels.
"My mom won't notice, she'll just think she made the mess herself. Let's go, I need to get some clothes and I want to be here as little as possible." He turns around and quickly walks out, almost at a run. He relaxes a bit when he reaches the hallway. There are two doors, and he leads me to the one on the right. “This is my room. It’s right next to Cody’s so be quiet.
He turns the door handle and pushes the door open. But he doesn’t enter the room. He just stands there, stopped in his tracks.
“What’s wrong?” I whisper as I stand on my tiptoes, trying to look into the room. But he just shakes his head. His next words come out half-choked.
“Cody.”
"It still worked," I say smugly. “So you still needed me.”
"Whatever. Just be careful." He walks into his own house, hesitating as if it were a prison. I follow him through the door and the first thing I notice is the strong scent of cinnamon. It reminds me of Lorraine. The door leads into the kitchen, just like the other house.
But unlike the other house, the kitchen is in total disarray. This part definitely does not remind me of Lorraine. The sunlight filters in through the window, illuminating the many stacks of pots and pans piled up on the gray stone counters. Bowls of food that may or may not be spoiled are all over the small circular table in the center of the room. But the smell of cinnamon covers up the smell of everything else.
"Sorry about the mess," Connor says, in a tone that obviously shows that he really doesn't care. "My mom is terrible at cleaning up after herself. And she's also a cinnamon addict."
“Yeah, I can see that,” I say taking in the sight of the place Connor wanted to leave so desperately. It doesn't look that bad, considering that he is a guy. I come to the conclusion that he mainly wants to escape the people he lives with more than the actual place. Of course, it still might not be his home life that he wants to leave.
"Let's go upstairs. I need to get money from my parents' room." He leads me into the hallway and into the living room. We walk through another arch and up the winding staircase, one step at a time. It occurs to me that it would be better to leave me downstairs, but something about being alone in this house feels off. I don’t make any sound going up the stairs, though.
We reach the top of the stairs and Connor immediately turns right, away from the nearest door. "Cody's room," he whispers. I assume that Cody is his brother's name. He leads me to the right, down a long hallway. It's overly decorated with paintings and family photos. It doesn’t look like there’s anything wrong with his family.
We enter the parents' master bedroom, Connor gritting his teeth. I see that is it not unlike the kitchen - a huge mess. Clothes are strewn everywhere, and the bed is unmade. If you could call it a bed. It’s just two mattresses stacked on top of each other, just right there on the ground.
I ignore this as I follow Connor, hopping over various objects on the bedroom floor. Connor leads me to a large walk-in closet. He walks to the back of the room and digs through a pile of brightly colored shirts in the left corner. I stare down at the off-white carpeting as he searches for something. It reminds me of Leilani, which isn’t a good thing to be thinking about…
"Found it," he says, and I’m thankful for the distraction. He turns around, holding a small safe. I'm reminded of last night, with the other safe in the backyard. Except that this one is smaller, and it looks lighter.
“Do they keep the money in there?”
“No. Six... twenty-three... ten," he mumbles as he fumbles with the dial. He pulls on the handle and it pops open, revealing a smaller red box inside with a lock.
“Uh, what?” I ask, confused.
"My parents are paranoid," he explains. He hands the safe to me and reaches for the highest shelf, not able to reach.
I smirk at this. "Too short?"
"Shut up."
"I'll get it. Where is it?"
"Under those towels."
I reach up under a stack of bleach-stained purple towels. My fingers find a small, flat piece of metal. I pull it out and hand it to Connor. He unlocks the box and pulls out a large wad of cash.
“They don’t like banks, either,” he explains.
“I can see that,” I say, repeating myself from earlier. “Don’t you feel bad, taking the money like this, though?”
He shakes his head as he stuffs the money in his pocket. “Not really. They don’t use it for anything, anyways.”
"Okay," I say, realizing that it really isn't my business. Though I am pretty curious what his home life is like now. He shuts the safe, little red box inside, and stuffs the safe back in the pile of shirts. He casually throws the clothes back over it. He hands me the key and I shove it back under the towels.
"My mom won't notice, she'll just think she made the mess herself. Let's go, I need to get some clothes and I want to be here as little as possible." He turns around and quickly walks out, almost at a run. He relaxes a bit when he reaches the hallway. There are two doors, and he leads me to the one on the right. “This is my room. It’s right next to Cody’s so be quiet.
He turns the door handle and pushes the door open. But he doesn’t enter the room. He just stands there, stopped in his tracks.
“What’s wrong?” I whisper as I stand on my tiptoes, trying to look into the room. But he just shakes his head. His next words come out half-choked.
“Cody.”