The Third Dream

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Voices.

A conversation was being held, a serious one. Somewhere downstairs.

Mackensie opened her eyes and found herself standing at the top of the stairs. She was back again, in the same setting as before.

She stood there for a while, making sure that they were actually the voices of Frederick's family members.

It was, and so she tiptoed down the stairs. However she was only able to make it halfway. As if there were an invisible forcefield preventing her from walking any furthur.

She took a seat, feeling the need to eavesdrop.

"There's really nothing we can do about it, dear," she heard a male voice say, but it wasn't Frederick's. She leaned forward, pressing her chest against her knees.

Trying to listen.

"It'll be okay, Mom." There was Frederick's. 

Was the previous voice Arthur's then? It certainly did not sound like Nathaniel, it was much too old to be that of a young boy's.

Suddenly footsteps were coming from overhead, someone was walking down the hallway and coming towards the top of the stairs.

Mackensie stood up abruptly, not sure which direction to go.

She needed to hide, but the most she could do was press herself against the wall that was to her left and just hope that the person wasn't going to come down.

But they did. Mackensie peered up, her heart racing.

Nathaniel came walking down, a solemn look on his face. He descended, walking right past her as if she wasn't even there. A part of her knew he couldn't see her but she still couldn't help but panic.

It was just a dream, she told herself. Not a big deal.

Her eyes trailed after him as he past and turned left to go down the hall towards the direction of the livingroom, where the voices were coming from.

She could hear Helen talking, quickly, with Arthur trying to speak over her.

It all sounded so heated, but Mackensie wasn't exactly paying attention to what was being said as she was too preoccupied in watching Nathaniel.

"Helen, just stop! You're not making the boy feel any better about this or himself."

She sat back down and let out a sigh of relief, resuming her eavesdropping session.

She felt as though she knew what they were talking about, it was quite obvious considering her previous dream.

"Fine.You're right, fine," Helen's voice was strained.

Obviously upset, bitter.

Mackensie heard a little scuffling, like someone getting up from a chair, and footsteps.  

Deliberate, heavy, angry footsteps that became fainter as though she had left the room.

"When do you leave?" Arthur asked Frederick.

"In a week," he answered.

And all was quiet again.

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