Murmurs of Deceit

Chapter Two

AZIZA’S POV 

I shudder as I continue gazing out the window, slowly torturing myself. I cannot find it in me to actually look away, even though I’ve known for a really long time that I have, and always will despise water with a passion. We have already landed, and are now heading to our beach house. I know for a fact I will most likely be spending the majority of my time in whichever room is furthest from the beach, while Ember has fun trying multiple ways to lure me into the salty depths of the ocean. 

Ember is glued to the window beside her seat, looking excited at being in a new place. Henry looks almost depressed, and is sulking in the driver’s seat. I imagine being a chauffeur isn’t fun, but the least he could do would be to look at least slightly interested. I am tempted to begin quizzing him on what he knows of Amar and Curran’s plans, but I bite my tongue. I will leave the quizzing to Ember; she can be scarier. My eyes widen slightly as I take in the size of our beach house. Instead of resembling a cottage like I expected, it resembles an actual house more. It is a one level building, but is still large. Definitely larger than the house I had personally lived in, in Alaska. 

There is a short driveway at the back, with a wraparound pathway leading to the front door which is facing to the left. Both driveway and pathway are made of cobblestone, and in a few places grass is sprouting from the cracks. There is a large porch along the whole wall where the front door is, and I am pleased to see that it is covered. This will make it easier to sit outside, even if it rains. I place my bag on a chair on the porch, and find myself glaring out at the ocean. I love the landscape it provides, but hate it because I despise its water. Ember pokes me in my back, and I realize I’ve stopped right in front of the door. Sending her a sheepish grin, I move out of the way so that she can open the door with a key she’s pulled out of her bag. I suppose Amar, Curran or whoever packed our bags thought she was more trustworthy with the key, and I have to agree with them. I’d most likely lose it within the first five minutes of holding it.  

As we step in the room, I glance around, taking note of which doorway leads to where. There is a semi-narrow main hallway leading all the way from the door we’ve entered to the opposite wall. There are three doorways on either side, and I can see the first on the left opens into a very spacious kitchen. I open the first door on the right and discover it’s a bedroom, and instantly continue on down the hall. The first bedroom was in more…subdued tones, not something I particularly enjoyed. Its walls were a pale purple, similar to lilac. The pillows were white, and the comforter was a darker purple. Ember looks in the same bedroom I just left, and I stop hearing her footsteps with mine. I assume she has chosen that room, as she prefers the lighter colours in a room. I peek inside the second doors on either side, and discover a small dining room to the left and a bathroom in hues of blue. As I reach the final two doorways in the hall, I note that the final one on the left is a living room with a fireplace which I know; no matter the temperature, I will curl up in front of. A giant grin has a permanent place upon my face as I take in the last room on the right. 

It is a second bedroom, this one with slightly more vibrant colours. The walls are a light teal colour, and the bedspread was black. I fling myself onto the bed, and realize too late that my bag is still in my hand since I’ve picked it up from the chair on the deck. As the weight of the bag screws up my momentum, I land on the bed too far over and slide off, landing with a fairly loud thump. I groan in pain as I lie there in a heap, wincing as I feel my wrist throbbing. Ember slides around the corner, now fully alert from the thump of my landing. As she cannot see me, she calls loudly, “Aziza?! Where are you?!” 

I raise my right hand; the one without the throbbing wrist, and wave weakly, being too lazy to put too much effort into it. She walks over to where I am lying, and stares down at me until I look up. She is giving me an unimpressed look, with one eyebrow raised, “I thought cats were supposed to land on their feet.” It isn’t a question, just a statement. I give her a withering look. I realize my hand is still in the air, and I glance pointedly from her to my hand and back again, hoping she gets the hint. She doesn’t, and my hand falls down in a defeated manner. She shakes her head and leaves the room, and I mutter curses under my breath as I work back into a standing position, trying to not hit my hurt wrist on anything. I could feel my wrist already healing, but it didn’t stop the pain. I knew it would probably be at least another ten minutes before the pain dulled to where I wouldn’t notice it, but I would still have to be careful not to hit it too hard on anything.