Categories > Original > Romance > Older Than Me, Younger Than You

Decaying House of Suicide

by sesshyfanchick 1 review

Suicidal house?!

Category: Romance - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Angst, Drama, Romance - Published: 2007-03-18 - Updated: 2007-03-19 - 2270 words



I trailed after him, my eyes studying him from afar. So far, he hadn't said a word to me yet and I was perfectly fine with that. I studied his graceful form, amazed at the way he walked. So smooth and graceful, like something otherworldly.

The air was crisp and cold, the stars twinkling down from the dark night up above. I looked up and smiled at the moon. It was a beautiful night. Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all. I mean, the fresh air did me good and plus...there was no Lindsay to annoy me with her bickering! I smiled at the thought. I sure wished it was like this in the day time.

I stared out ahead of me but I found nothing but an empty street. My eyes scanned the remaining area. A small sense of panic welled within me, threatening to grow in a matter of seconds. Where could he have gone? I only lifted my watch on him for a few seconds and now he was no where to be found. I perked my ears, trying to catch any trace of sound that would lead me to find him again.

I almost let out a shrill scream as a hand clamped over my mouth, muffling my startled cries. A slender body pressed into me, warm flesh heating my chilled skin.

"Fun, fun, fun," a smooth voice chided. Black strands of hair fell over my the top of my head, a mix of blond entangled in the mess. It was the boy. His hand was still clamped over my mouth, his other arm snaked around my waist. I shivered involuntarily. Sometimes I did that, I had a little trembling spell that came out from out of nowhere.

Suddenly the warmth left and he withdrew from me. I watched as he resumed walking, his feet taking light steps. I was still stunned, shocked at how unpredictable he could be. What gave him the impulse to suddenly sneak up on me like that? What was his motive? I regained my calm and followed after him. It was better to have a bit of space separating us, since there was no telling what he might do. I was still wondering how he could change from angry, odd, and lustful all at the same time.

After a few moments of silent walking, I called out,

"Where are we going?"

Silence met me, the faint rustling of leaves in the distance echoing onto the streets. I looked about me, taking in the familiarity. We had just passed Lindsay's house.

He still hadn't answered me, merely continued walking. The silence wasn't unnerving though, I actually liked it. The air was cold and moist, chilling the tip of my nose and giving me goosebumps along my exposed arms.

'No sweater,' I thought sadly.


I snapped my head up, looking after him. He had stopped, his blond fringe fluttering in the night's cold breeze. I walked up to him, halting at least two feet away from where he was parked.

"What's over there?" he asked quietly, extending a black painted fingernail off to the distance. I followed his finger, my eyes meeting with a house. I gulped, my legs starting to tremble. It was the Anderson's house. I stared at his his back, wondering why he would even notice something as insignificant as a house. He didn't know anything about it since he was new, what would make him wonder about something he had no business in knowing about?

See, the Anderson's house had been barren for nearly two years now. Ever since the incident. With what Mom had told me, it went like this: Mrs. Anderson came home one night to an empty house. There was a note for her written by Mr. Anderson which read that he and their two year old son had both hopped and left town. Of course, Mrs. Anderson went into a panic filled depression, worrying over the safety of her two year old son, her husband and how she would ever be able to move on without them. Her husband had just left her and had taken her precious baby from her. In the end, Mrs. Anderson grabbed her husbands old shot-gun and shot herself.

Yet, the ironic thing was, that Mr. Anderson had no intentions of leaving her at all. He and the baby came home after an hour had passed. He had been at the late-night post office, picking up a pair of vacation tickets he had won. They were all supposed to go to Hawaii together and have a grand old time filled with happy memories. Just him, his wife and their little son. He had wanted to surprise his wife in such a way that she'd be both shocked and happy at the same time, but...he didn't know what the consequences of his bizarre surprise would leave him.

He came home that night, to his dead wife, blood pooling in around her head. And that's when he went mad. He was so consumed by anger and grief that his nerve had snapped. He suffocated his baby son and shot himself, there bodies dying together on the drenched carpet of red. I remember crying at the story, sniffling in my bed while Mom told me it was alright. She had said that every family had its tough times, had their reasons of doing things and that the Anderson family would be able to meet each other in the afterlife. That still didn't appease me, even today.

I stared at the broken down house, the window's cracked and the cheap paint peeling. The boy dropped his hand back to his side and stared with me.

"Something tragic perhaps?" he asked no one in particular, his voice dying in the wind. He began walking again, albeit more quickly than usual. He was headed towards the Anderson's house and I couldn't help but hesitate, then follow him warily.

What were we going to do? He wasn't possibly thinking on going in there was he? Mom told me it wasn't nice to meddle in the affairs of the afterlife, to not disrupt their resting grounds. That and some information from Weird Travels on the Discovery channel on how to appease the dead.

Finally we were standing in front of the Anderson's house, caution tape wrapped loosely around the rotted white picket fence, the hinges of the door whining with rust. I stood there, mouth agape and eyes alert. There was no way, he wasn't possibly thinking of taking me in there right? I shut my eyes and mentally shook myself. Even so, there was no way that I was going to listen to him. Sure, he still amazed me with everything he did, still scared me with his odd threats and made me want to listen to everything he had wanted me to do. All up to this point, I would forget about that. This was where I drew the line, there was no way I was stepping into that house.

"What are we doing here?" I asked nervously, turning my head to look at him. I nearly choked on my spit. He was so breathtaking, so beautiful that I couldn't believe that he was nothing but a human. His black, jagged hair was blowing in the breeze, the moon's ray's casting a reflected vibrancy of yellow light upon his lithe form. He glowed against the background of black and rot, against the atmosphere of grief and depression. It was as if he ruled it, as if he owned the house himself and the atmosphere that enveloped it.

I found myself blushing as I turned to stare at the rotting house again. It was a shame that no one bothered to deal with it since the departing of the Anderson's.

"It's beautiful," he whispered, his voice so faint that I could barely hear him. I took a double check as I cocked an eyebrow in confusion. Did I miss something?

"But, it's...ugly," I answered him. I heard him kick the ground, his shoe colliding with the stoned gravel beneath him. I turned to look at him again. He was mad, his eyes pointed and venomous, but he wasn't looking at me. He was staring at the house.

"I wouldn't expect a stupid girl like you to understand," he hissed, his tone dripping venom. With that, he marched his way over towards where I was and grabbed my wrists, pinning them behind me.

"Just for that, you can go find out for yourself," he said in a low voice. He thrusted me forward, kicking the back of my legs so that I would begin moving. He unhinged the white fence entrance and scooted me along, practically dragging me along the dirt.

"Stop!" I screamed, tears threatening to spill from my eyes. I sucked them in. I wasn't going to cry, I was tougher than that. His grip only grew tighter as we ascended the porch steps, the wooden floorboards creaking from the added weight.

"Please, ah!" I yelled as I was throttled to and fro. He halted before the gashed screen door. I straightened myself as best I could, trying to regain my composure. My hands were still pinned behind my back and they were starting to ache from the intense pressure of his grip. What'd I do wrong? I just said that it looked ugly. I gulped, maybe that was it. Maybe, when I voiced my opinion like upset him. It was odd that I wanted to explain myself to him, to tell him that what I thought was entirely different even if that wasn't the truth. I didn't want him to be angry at me, I disliked it when people were angry with me. Except for Lindsay that is.

I felt him lean into me, his chin resting upon my left shoulder.

"Why did you stop?" he asked smoothly, his breath sending me shivers throughout my whole body.

"Let go, just let me go," I asked, trying not to plead pathetically. I didn't want him to think me weak. I felt him smile, no doubt his trademark smirk.

"Are you scared?" he asked, his thumbs tracing circle patterns upon my wrists. I was astonished by his question. As Mom would say, no shit! I was scared, my heart was nearly beating out of my chest...yet...I would never voice that aloud to him so I merely nodded solemnly.

"To be trapped in nothing but darkness," he continued, his voice becoming mystified. "To scream until your lungs's wonderful. Especially when someone else is doing it besides yourself." I traced his words, searching for some deep meaning to them. All I got was that he liked it when people screamed. I found myself frowning in disgust. What a weird thing to like. He pressed his thumbs into my wrists, the pressure intensifying. I yelped in pain. He had a strong grip, what with only using his thumbs.

"Now it's your turn," he whispered sadistically. And with that, he threw open the screen door and pushed me inside. I landed on the dusty, wooden floor with a loud thump. He slammed the door with his foot and punched it on the top. I scrambled upright, banging my hands on the metal gated screen door. He had jammed it. He had jammed it! I kicked with all my might, banged on it with all the strength I could muster, but to no avail. It wouldn't budge!

"Let's see how you'll turn up in the end," he drawled on, his slender arms criss-crossed over his chest. His black orbs glinted with a mischievous fire, outshining the world of black I was drenched in. They were so sparkly that I had to catch myself from getting lost in them.

I banged on the screen door again, trying to catch his attention. It was as if I had already lost him. He turned his back, retreating from me. I watched him casually walk down the porch steps. I found myself staring at his tiny pony-tail. What would happen if he let it down? Would all that darkness consume him even more?

I reeled back to the situation at hand. He was leaving, he was going to leave me here all by myself for who knows how long! I kicked at the door again, pounded on the floor so that he would stop. Then, I found myself asking the most inappropriate question of all questions when impended with a disastrous situation.

"What's your name?!"

He halted, his head turning to the side to look at me. His jagged black hair fluttered in the gusty wind, his skin white and his eyes shining. How is it that every time I looked at him, I found him to be utterly amazing, even though deep down I seethed at him and loathed his very existence?

"Real." he answered.

yes! 4th chappeh done yo ;D yeah i noe, short chapter...meaningless...not as descriptive..but yeah. now we noe his name though! weird name that it is...but i like weird names since i have one myself :D next chappeh: dont know whats its called yet but...what will happen to our poor Rae? will Real come back or..not?! (didn't realize that their names both begin with R until now) and dont get me startin' on that Lindsay D: Please review and i'll promise to update as soon as possible yo ;D
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