The Collymore Family

Chapter 7

What do you do when you're overwhelmed?

A question Irene asked herself many times, even before she babysat for the Collymore's.

"Just do deep breathing." Her mother would tell her; but that never worked. Every time she tried to, all that she felt was frustration. Maybe she wasn't doing it right. But that didn't matter. She tried to do it right, but it didn't help one bit. Besides, What would her mother know, anyway? She was rarely ever home; meaning she knew nothing about her daughter. Even when she was home, it felt like she was a stranger. Since she was eight, she'd been babysat while her parents were away. When she'd turned eleven, she stayed home alone. Her parents didn't arrive home until midnight, and they left for work at seven the next morning. They stayed home on Sunday's, but to Irene, it was like living with strangers. When she was young, she would be angry at them for not talking to her, for not asking how school was, for not attending important ceremonies. Now, Irene understood why they had to work so long, but it was clear they didn't realize how much it affected Irene.

She was pacing through the streets, feeling more nervousness than before. Her eyes wandered to the people walking on the sidewalks, many of whom were laughing and smiling at their friends. If only I weren't in this situation, Irene thought. If I wasn't so stressed out, I would be one of those people on the sidewalk, laughing and talking to my friends, maybe with an ice cream cone in my hand. But unfortunately, life doesn't work that way, does it?

"Ember Way Avenue. All pink exterior. House number nine." Irene muttered to herself over and over as she continued to walk in the direction of that street. A man in a business suit, who just so happened to be walking beside her, turned his head to the muttering and looked at her. Irene noticed and sped up her pace so she had passed him. Great. He probably thinks I'm crazy now. Irene sighed to herself, her nervousness turning into annoyance. But how else was she supposed to memorize the address of Linh's friends' house? She found it much easier to remember things when she said them out loud. And this was a crucial piece of information she would need to figure out if she wanted to truly know what Mr. and Mrs. Collymore were hiding.

Irene couldn't help but think as she walked, could the person have been the little girl Linh had talked about? Their names both started with A's. But how could that be possible? The girl was dead. Deceased. She'd passed away long before Irene had been born. Could she be a spirit sending in those notes?  Irene though, though it felt foolish to think so. It's not that she didn't believe in ghosts, she just wasn't really sure what to think of the topic. Sure, it was a possibility. But who could know for sure? And why was that anything she needed to worry about in life?

Then again, the idea that the person sending in those notes was a ghost scared her. And it also had some sort of reasoning behind it. Irene had seen it herself, there was nobody in that storage room, apart from some mice and shelves that held gardening tools. The room was too spacious and mostly empty, so how could anyone hide in there? It just wasn't possible. She'd seen it herself that there was no one in the room, either. There were no windows or doors that could get you in the room besides one, which was the main entrance where she was getting the notes from. Irene had originally thought it wasn't a human, but how could it be an animal? The last time she'd checked, animals couldn't write perfectly written words on a piece of paper. Well, most couldn't, but the point still stood. The only animals in the room were mice, mice that for sure couldn't write.

This wasn't some fairytale where animals could talk and magical things happened on their own. This wasn't a show, book, or movie. This was real life. Irene had to be realistic with her thoughts. Then again, thinking that there are ghosts haunting one particular room in the house and sending in notes from under the door didn't really seem realistic, either. Or not to adults, at least. But Irene was an adult. She was twenty. She should speak, think and act maturely. Having thoughts such as: Oh but what if the Collymore's house really is haunted? Or could there be a ghost girl sending these notes? Or Was a girl, who was hit by a truck and died many years ago, haunting this house? Seemed childish, to say the least. But Irene couldn't help it. She couldn't rule out the possibility, because what other possibility was there? What non-supernatural situation could explain something so bizarre and surreal?

And another thing to add to it all, her name had started with an 'A'. When Irene had asked the person who they were, the response they got was 'Angel'. That was more evidence on this possibility that it was her. Sure, there were plenty of people whose names started with an 'A'. But it was such a weird coincidence that Irene couldn't help but think the two were connected. And plus, it was one of the only pieces of information she had.

Irene approached a green street sign and stared up at it. The words 'Ember Way Ave' were written in bold. Irene looked ahead of her and continued to walk in that very direction, feeling the wind pick up slightly as she did so.

As she walked, she had another thought. So what if my theory was correct, what if it was that girl sending in those notes? It still left an important question. What was she trying to tell her?  The first message she'd gotten was 'don't trust them'. What did that even mean? Who was she telling Irene not to trust? The Collymore's? But how could that be? The Collymore's hadn't even moved into the house when that accident had taken place. How would this girl know anything about the Collymore's, if she hadn't even met them?  Irene couldn't help but feel a little relieved when she thought that. If it was true, which was likely, It meant the Collymore's weren't really hiding something from her. It was something Irene had been hoping was true, but with little evidence to it. So now, knowing it could be possible made Irene smile softly, despite the bizarre circumstances.

Her thoughts stopped as she did herself, now staring up at a house. It was all pink, how Linh exactly described it. The whole exterior of the house was coated in pastel pink, except for the door, which was brown, and the windows. Next to the other plain looking houses, the all-pink-house looked unusual. But it added a sort of spark to the neighbourhood. It felt comfortable to stand in front of it, which seems weird to think, but it was true. It made the neighbourhood more appealing to Irene.

Irene took in a deep breath and looked up at the house, before making her way up and laying two, firm knocks.