Page 5 of Haunted Nights & Savage Sins
I’m accustomed to my lifestyle. Comfortable in my solitude. Unfortunately, my father let me know last week that my life as I know it is about to change.
He’s tired of me staying to myself. Says that I need to take a more active role in the workings of our family.
Shit I don’t care to do.
It’s just more death, more threats, more evil.
There’s no getting away from it.
Even now, as I sit in the parlor room, staring at the roaring fire that is the only source of light, I can feel the air in this mansion starting to change.
Almost as if it were alive, getting angry. Pissed that others were moving into the space that it carved out in the world as its own.
My father has sent me a miniature army of security personnel, most of whom will come back and forth daily just to make sure I’m safe. I have my dogs, but they are well trained, and I only need to see them twice a day to feed them.
Apparently, taking a more active role in the family means that people are going to start taking a more active role in me. My father thinks I’ll have more enemies than I know how to deal with.
I doubt it.
No one wants to mess with the beast that resides in this broken-down mansion. They’re all too scared to even approach the gate.
This mansion has been in my family for generations. It holds all my memories. Mainly all the bad ones. But though I’ve been here all my life, I can hardly ever remember anyone from the town stepping foot on the property. I guess the rumors had spread far enough that they all knew better than to come up here.
The only people who even bother to come to the gate are the delivery people, and that’s only to drop off whatever packages I’ve ordered and to run back to their vehicle.
My pulse rockets through my body, faster than usual, as I wait for the doorbell to ring. I’m not used to having guests, but I guess I’m going to have to adjust. There’s no way I’ll let my father think he was right about me. I don’t want him to hold any more power over me than he already does.
The seconds tick by, and a brutal wind whips through the house, seeping from a hole in the roof that I’ve yet to get fixed.
Just as I begin to get myself under control, the doorbell clangs and my body tenses.
So far, all of the security personnel know to stay out of the main house unless I order them to come in. They patrol and walk the grounds, making sure there are no breaches in security.
Pushing myself out of the oversized chair, the floor creaks as I make my way to the large front door. I pull it back only slightly, just enough for me to peek through the slit it creates. My eyes have to adjust to the sun, and I squint as I look out at the large man standing there. It’s been a while since I’ve seen him in person, but I’m happy to see him nonetheless.
I grunt and open the door fully so my youngest brother, Killian, can walk in.
“Big Mac, how you doing?” he jokes before he pulls me into a hug I wasn’t prepared for. I let him hold me for all of five seconds before I push him away gently.
“Don’t call me that,” I grunt before I turn and start walking back to the parlor room.
“Jeez, you forget to pay the light bill or something?” he remarks behind me as we walk down the hall.
I blink a few times and look around. None of the candles are lit. The lights are off. Not that I’ve forgotten to pay the light bill, I’ve just grown accustomed to the dark. It’s always felt better to me this way. If I don’t turn on the light, I won’t have to deal with the ghosts that lurk around each corner.
“Did you come here for something specific, or are you here to talk shit? You can definitely talk shit on the porch.” I grumble and turn back into the parlor. I go back and sit in my chair.
When I look back up at Killian, his face has turned ashen white.
I swallow hard for a second. “Does he hear them too? See them staring from the corners?”
Of course I know there’s nothing there. At least that is what I’m told. It’s all in my mind. The haunting and spirits of all those who died in these walls are nothing but a figment of my imagination.
No one will call me crazy to my face, but I guess it makes sense. The scarred freak should be out of his mind.
“What?” I question, almost scared of the answer.
“That’s… That’s father’s chair. The one from the back half of the house. I thought everything in that room was burned away.”
