I needed to know whether I could look into everyone’s room. Tiptoeing through the landing, I stood still next to Jamie’s room. It was quiet, which could only mean that he had decided to sleep. I moved a few more steps ahead and let out a deep breath that I had no idea I had held. Moving forward, I now stopped outside my parent’s room. I couldn’t hear any movements there either, which most probably meant that my dad was asleep.
‘So everyone is in bed,’ I whispered to myself. That actually calmed me down. Only slightly.
I finally reached my room. Picking up my satchel, I walked out and proceeded to the main room. Sliding through, ducking, jumping through the many objects in the room, I reached the door. Twisting the handle, I heard a click. That was strange, as I had yet to hear a click. The idea that the click was strange, changed to interest, then to curiosity, and finally to impatience. Not something to keep in the files in my mind.
I walked down the stairway slowly, looking left and right with every step. Suddenly I heard laughter. Panicking, I looked towards the sound. Closing my eyes, my hands began shaking. That was when I dropped my lamp, and heard a distant crash. I quickly turned back up the stairs, and opened the door, or at least attempted to. It was jammed. I bashed the door, and tried to shout, but breathing had become difficult and cold wind started pushing me against the door.
Wide eyes, I froze. I felt a slight pressure on my right shoulder.
‘Please let me out,’ I somehow breathed out.
My skin prickled as something smooth slid down my arm and slowly held my hand. Holding my breath, it was time to turn and face the thing.
‘It’s me,’ it whispered. I turned around and found myself staring back at midnight blue eyes. Light reached up to him, but decided to keep me and the door in darkness.
No sound came out of my mouth, yet it remained open.
The boy smiled back at me. Closing my mouth, I shook my head. ‘No, you’re not real,’ I said aloud. Confidence had returned. I may be many things, but one thing I was not was that I was not insane.
He smiled back at me and took step up towards me. His height surprised me. One more step, and we’d be almost the same height. If he was level with me, then he would be taller than me by at least 4 inches. No, this was not right.
‘You can’t be real. The boy in the painting was a small boy. The boy in my dreams was a small boy,’ I said.
‘Oh, that painting was when I was young. The dream? Was it me that you dreamt of, or the one in the painting, or…your younger brother?’ he asked lightly.
I was imaging all this. This could not be real. Closing my eyes tight, I inhaled deeply. There must be some mistake. That was when I felt my hand being held and tugged lightly. It was a signal for me to start stepping down, which I obeyed. I walked down slowly towards the light, eyes still shut, until I felt a palm on my stomach. I stood still, yet still refused to open my eyes. A hand caressed my cheek softly and then felt my head turn to the right. Flicking my eyes open, I was staring at a wall with a hole in the centre.
The first thing I did was paste my face onto the wall, making sure my eye reached the hole. Looking through it, I noticed my mum walk towards the wardrobe. As soon as she started undressing, I removed my eye.
‘So the rooms did have a secret hole,’ I said with a smile. But how was I able to see it if I was underground? Bashing my head against the wall, I remembered that I was a level above everyone. That was something that I always seemed to forget.
‘Would I be able to see Jamie’s room,’ I asked the boy, looking up.
There was no one there. I raised my hand and found it empty. My hand moved to my cheek and found nothing there either.
Panic set in as I looked up and down, left and right, my feet and even went as far as touching my hair, just to convince myself that the person that I initially tried to convince myself did not exist, suddenly did exist.
I finally noticed the light lit the whole place. A lamp lay neatly next to the door. I rushed back up the stairs and held the door handle. Fully expecting it to be closed tightly, I decided to hold down the handle and push hard.
Not a good idea as I fell through the doorway. Picking up the lamp, I pushed pass anything that was in my way and walked to my room. Yes, walked was probably the wrong word to use.
Once inside, I began searching for my journal.
‘It must be here,’ I cried as I threw one book after another across the room. There were papers, pens, some beads even, but my journal still did not appear. I dug deeper and finally pulled out a book with a faded leather cover.
Ignoring the mess, I slid onto my chair and flipped the journal open.