Home Truth

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"Theadora, can you take this to the attic?"

Thea paused halfway down the stairs to lift an eyebrow at Marcy, who was holding a pile of old books and fashion magazines. The bride-to-be was probably influenced by the Emersons' family tradition — in this house, they never threw away old things, instead, they either tried to fix them or hid them somewhere in case they might need them again. Most of those things ended up in the attic.

"Why don't you do it yourself? I'm busy," Thea lied in order to get away with the little favor, only to realize how dumb she sounded. If she was in London, it would make total sense since the big city life was always in a rush. But now that she was in Holmes Chapel, how could she possibly be busy? All the people she wanted to be with were now far away. The only thing she could do was drive around town or bring a book to a coffee shop in her neighborhood to read the day away.

Marcy only gave Thea a smile, ignoring the lame excuse as she insisted, "I would, but I'm allergic to dust. It'll only take a minute."

"Lucky you," Thea muttered as she rolled her eyes and marched down the stairs to take the books and magazines from her future stepmother.

Marcy thanked her for it before rushing back to the kitchen, probably to check on those cookies in the oven for her own wedding tomorrow morning. It was only a small celebration, so the family did everything by themselves without hiring any wedding planner. Now that the decoration was all finished, Thea wasn't much useful around the house since she couldn't cook. Therefore, she told herself it was only fair if she did the small favor for Marcy.

To be honest, Thea couldn't remember the last time she'd gone to the attic. That place used to be her nightmare when she was a little girl. The thought of evil creatures lurking in the dark among dusty old furniture and shelves was the reason she'd slept with the light on for an entire month after climbing up there once out of curiosity. Now that she was an adult, it was barely more than a crawl space with a low ceiling and mold. She had to hang her head to walk in, trying to locate obstacles in the dark for the only source of light was from the long narrow windows near the ceiling.

The unsoftened echo of her footsteps on the floor made of timber brought on a claustrophobic feeling, and so she put the books and magazines in the corner to hurry back to the ladder as fast as she could.

Right before she reached the entrance, Thea tripped over a small table and almost lost her balance. But she didn't fall, instead, she knocked over a dusty carton box which fell onto the floor and created a loud thump that echoed within the confined space. Dust flying all over the place got the girl coughing uncontrollably, still, she decided to bend down and clean up the mess she'd made.

The first thing that got her attention was a portrait of her younger self, sketched by her mother. Everything in that box belonged to her mother. Most of them were drawings and souvenirs she'd bought on their family trips. Thea had no idea how long they'd been in this attic, but judging from the yellow hue of the paper, she would guess that they had been there since her mother was still alive.

As a result, Thea ended up staying in the attic for longer than she'd intended to. She sat on the floor, going through the rest of the stuff in the box, feeling whole inside for the fact that most of her mother's sketches were of her face, some others were corners of their house and random objects like a tea set, a bowl of fruits, a flower vase,...

There wasn't anything unusual, until...there was.

At the bottom of the box lied a little tin box. The girl almost didn't see it for it was hidden too well. For some reason, just looking at it gave her a feeling that there was something inside she had to see.

MY GIRL // Harry StylesWhere stories live. Discover now