Green Eyes

The inside of the house was ordinary; it had a staircase made of oak, an elegant chandelier hanging in the middle of the foyer. It seemed like the perfect place to raise a family; but there was an eerie, sad feeling that lingered in the air. It sent chills down my spine. I tried shaking it off. Maybe the A/C was cranked to high, or it was my imagination. But there was definitely something morose about this house.

I helped my parents unpack the kitchen stuff. I was in the middle of setting up the china in the armoire when my father came next to me and spoke.

“What do you think of the house?”
I almost dropped the tea cup I was holding. He hadn’t said much to me the whole trip—hell, after I purposely overdosed on sleeping pills, both my parents weren’t too keen on conversation. And when they did speak, it was always harsh and judgmental. You would think after your daughter tries to end her life, you would be surely willing to help her feel like life is worth living.
I was admitted to a mental facility after I was released from the hospital. There, I was kept under close observation. I was two months in when they decided I was fit to leave. From there, I was condemned to see a psychiatrist twice a week. Dr. Schwartz wasn’t a huge help; I wouldn’t confine anything in him. He would ask the same exact questions, and try to pry out why I was so set on suicide. He didn’t seem interested in finding out the whole story prior to why. I wouldn’t have told him even if he asked. But it would have been a fresh breath of air for a new batch of inquires.

I would now be going to a new psychiatrist here in Holmes Chapel. From what I’ve heard from my parents, she seemed to have gotten a five star rating from her previous clients. As much as I dreaded these never ending, tormenting sessions, I was curious to the questions she would ask. Not the same ones I hoped…

“I like it,” I reply to my dad, setting the tea cup amongst the rest of the china. “though, I wonder why you got such a great price on it. A home like this could have easily gone for much more.” My father pondered my observation.
“Eleanor said the family just up and left. She wasn’t forth coming about giving us the details on the previous owners. But with the price we paid, I was content with her answer.”

***

It was midnight, and my parents had gone to bed, leaving me time to unpack my room. My bed was the first of my furniture to be set up. My dresser and desk were next. I had about all of my clothes in their rightful drawers and my computer was set up, and all I had to do next was wait for the internet to be connected. I was in the middle of decorating when I saw a shadow pass by my door. My father was prone to sleep walking, and now that we lived in a two story home, it wasn’t as safe.

I walked out of my room into the hallway, peering around in the dark for any sign of my dad. Walking to the other end of the house, I saw the attic stairs were down. Did my father really go up into the attic—of all places? I heaved a sigh, staring up into the entry way, where light seemed to be on upstairs. I walked up the wooden steps, which creaked with each tread. I was halfway into the attic, peeking my head up. In the far corner, on a small ragged end table, was a lit candle, filling the attic with a small amount of light. Old furniture and boxes laid about, cobwebs inhabiting the unused furnishings. It had an antique smell to it; dampness mixed with a woody scent.

“Dad?” I call out, not getting a response. My father was nowhere in sight. I was about to climb back down when a hand grabbed my wrist. I let out a scream, tearing my hand free, losing my balance. My bearings on the wooden steps faltered, and I fell from the stairs. My head collided with the hard copse floor. my vision blurred, but I was able to see a pair of bright green eyes, peering down at me from the attic’s entry hole. I was unable to move, my body was paralyzed. I suddenly felt dizzy, and before I knew it, I was slipping into a dark sleep.

***

When I woke, my empty half unpacked room flooded my eyes. I was in my bed, and the events of last night felt like a dream. The sun illuminated the entire room; I hadn’t put my curtains up, so until I did so, falling back asleep would be futile. I felt the back of my head, where a rather large knot had formed. Was last night truly a dream? Or was there someone other than my dad in the attic? Before I could put any logic behind my thoughts, there was a light knock on my door, followed by the voice of my mum.

“El, you up hun?” I rubbed the back of my head, my voice coming out hoarse.

“Yes, come in.” Seconds after my invite, my mother came into the room, a smile strangely planted on her lips. She was glowing, and seemed to have a spring in her step. Her short blonde bob was styled, for once in months, and she wore a baby blue cardigan and jeans finished off with a pair of white sneakers. For the past six months both of my parents dressed as if they were going to a funeral. They only colours they wore were brown or black and occasionally navy. Now, she was attired in something she would have worn prior to my indiscretion. Maybe they’re done with being mad at me—it was about damn time. They were childish playing the quiet game.

Her cerulean eyes scanned my room before landing on me.

“Will you be ready in a bit? We have to go down to the school and enroll you.” My head suddenly started to throb. I let out a groan, holding the back of my skull

“We just got in town, can’t it wait till next week?” My mum shook her head.

“The sooner the better! Besides, it’s your senior year and you’ve missed too much school already. Get ready and I’ll meet you downstairs.”

And with that, she shut the door, leaving me with my emergent headache. My mind couldn’t help but wander to the dream. It was so real—there was no way it was a dream. But then again, I was on a new medication. Dr. Schwartz did warn me of the side effects. Hallucinations were one of them. To find out for certain, I’d have to pay the attic a visit.