BLOODSTONE ACADEMY

3: The Move (III)

    Nothing about the house felt like home.

    It was just a giant white mansion with large, glass doors and floor to ceiling glass windows that looked too extravagant and too big, considering the fact that I would be living in it alone for the majority of the time.

Well, excluding Mr. Edward and the rest of the staff.

I resisted the urge to look around as we walked through the foyer and got into the elevator.

I refused to be excited to be back in my childhood home. I was angry, and I wanted to hold on to my anger. I would look around and maybe ask Mr. Edward for a tour later when I was less angry, maybe.

The elevator doors opened on the third landing of the house, and I followed behind Mr. Edward as he walked toward the last room on the floor and unlocked the double doors.

He held a wing of the door open for me, and I gave him a small, thankful smile before I walked in. For some reason, I had expected the room to be covered in dust, considering the fact that it had been twelve years since we were last here.

But it was spotless.

Not a single speck of dust or cobweb in sight. It was apparent that cleaners had been called in. I could even still catch the whiff of a citrus scented soap in the air.

"I'll let you settle in, Miss Jade," Mr. Edward spoke behind me, and I nodded absentmindedly as he pulled the door shut and left.

My gaze remained wandering, all over the room and the memories I expected to leap at me. I had spent the first six years of my life here, and yet I remembered nothing of it.

This was our home. The only place that was an actual home out of all the places we'd lived in because Mom and Dad had bought this house together after they got married.

According to the stories they used to tell me, they had bought such a big house and decided to call it 'The Eadwald mansion' because they had planned to have many kids, and also have the rest of our extended family live with us if they wanted.

Mom didn't really have any family, as she grew up in an orphanage, and Dad's family had welcomed her with open arms and treated like their own when her and Dad started dating, so she'd considered them her family.

And according to Mom, my grandparents had moved into this house with us after my birth, along with a few other aunts, uncles, nephews and cousins.

She claimed it was the most beautiful moment of her life, because all the people she loved were together with us in one place. Well, until one of hers and Dad's oppositions set the house on fire and almost killed us all.

Mom said she had barely managed to get me out of the house, and somehow Dad had made it out too. But the rest of the family hadn't. They'd all died in the fire, and we've been on the run ever since.

You know what part of the entire story makes zero sense? Well, apart from the fact that I somehow remember absolutely nothing from that time. It's the fact that there are no police records of the fire.

No investigations were launched, and my parents don't seem too interested in apprehending these so called "oppositions" that continue to make our lives miserable.

Any sane person would know none of it adds up. None of their stories made complete sense. I just didn't understand why they had to lie.

They'd told me our entire family had died in a fire, what else could be worse than that? Worse enough to make them think they had to lie to me?

And I would try to investigate the house for clues and whatnot, but it's been over a decade and the house was apparently remodeled after the fire. Any evidence would be long destroyed.