Glassed Girl

His hands were trembling, no his whole body was trembling with the effort it took to keep himself upright. How could this be? This was some kind of joke…right? It wasn’t the words the man found so disturbing but rather the deep dark hue in which they were written. Almost as if whomever who had wrote it…had written it in blood? But no one would, he reminded himself – no one would be as crazy as to spill their own blood for something as silly as a journal…or at least he hoped so.

Flipping carelessly through the rest of the heavy thing he took note that every page was stained in that awful color. Who was this girl? Could she even be alive with this level of madness? But then she’d said it herself…whatever illness she’d had was meant to take her life, so it wasn’t possible for her to be alive, was it? He felt himself go sad at the thought for whoever had written this sounded mighty young, not to mention lonely, and no one deserved to die such a death.

Though he couldn’t help but wonder if this was some type of ruse, this place was an old boarding house, not a hospital. So how, was it possible that this girl’s diary would find its way into his new attic? Unless of course this belong to one of the friends or relatives of the many boarders who’d visited this place. It was the only idea that really made sense to him at that point.

Slowly, he sat the bound leather journal back into the hidden compartment of the dresser with a click of finality. Discovering the diary of some poor sick girl was the last thing he needed while dealing with his own problems, like getting this place back in order for new tenants. It needed a lot of work, which would require a lot of money on his part – something he wasn’t really looking forward to, but what could he do when he was staring his dream in the face?

He wasn’t the type of man who would cut down a tree that could bear fruit and this was no different. This place had been a hotspot in years before – surely it could be again? All he had to do was to make sure and take care of it…he had no intention of ending up like the guy who’d sold this place to him, not if he could help it anyway.

So he turned away from those thoughts and that book choosing to focus on the work that lay ahead. He still have to oversee the movers, call the plumber, and find out just where he could cut corners until he had enough cash for a full revocation and decoration of the old place.

He released a sigh as he thought of the long years it would take to reach that goal, he may have been an optimist but he wasn’t delusional, not like that girl in the journal his mind whispered to him – he jumped. He’d never make fun of someone mentally handicapped, so where had that mocking voice come from? Surely he wasn’t turning into a jerk all of the sudden…he rubbed his face and shaking his head he continued down the dusky old steps of the attic, back down to the third floor.

Deciding it would be best for him to catch an afternoon nap before he started anything too serious, the couch became his next destination since he’d yet to find the box containing his bed sheets and really it was just too much trouble. He collapsed onto the stiff couch with this in mind, telling himself it didn’t matter what his mother would think, she wasn’t here so she couldn’t yell at him about catching a cold or being improver. He was finally on his own and he was going to do whatever he wanted. Including slacking off for afternoon naps, something he’d never done before. It was all so invigorating he thought as he finally closed his eyes on the lonely place.

It was also to become the one thing he’d always regret.