Secrets of the Cellar (Inside Secret #1) || COMPLETED

Chapter Two: Trust Is A Fragile Thing

Late that night, after tossing and turning in my bed, I realize I just can't sleep. I finally lay on my back and try to stay still. I close my eyes, but something keeps interrupting my peace. There's this insistent voice in my head, telling me to watch out, to be careful. You never know who's going to stab you in the back. I open my eyes, my mind wandering back to the chest. How long has my mother kept this from me? I finger the necklace at my neck and swing it in a circle.

People always thought that we always got along, that we never fought. Maybe that was because we look so much alike. We both had black hair, brown eyes, and the same tan skin. But we do fight, we just choose to let it go.

Then I think back to the argument my mother and I had. It was right after we found the books and necklaces and came back to the living room, that my mother starts to be her usual overprotective self. 

Mom: "Honey, where were you this afternoon?"

Now keep in mind that it's now 5 'O clock.

Me: "At school, mom."

Mom: "Really? It says here that you left school and went to the Mall. Didn't I tell you to come straight home?" She says, pointing at her phone accusingly.

See what I mean when I say overprotective? She tracks my phone, for Pete's sake! My friends take this time to leave Awkwardly, of course. After they leave, and I say goodbye, I face my mother again, starting to get angry.

Me: "Well, maybe if I wasn't always cooped in, then I wouldn't want to break any of the rules, mother!"

And normally I don't talk back to her, but that day was when everything changed. I don't trust my mother anymore. We never used to fight, but now we do. And I know I shouldn't, but I now blame my mother for this rift she has now caused between us.

My mother gasps, covering her mouth with her hand. I know that was disrespectful, especially to my own mother. She takes a step back, and lowers her hand, preparing to lecture me on my bad behavior, but before she can, I run to my room and slam the door. 

I hear my father come out of his study, judging by the heavy footsteps on the floor, as he goes to talk to my mother.

Then a few minutes later, I hear my father say:

Dad: "You're not getting any dinner tonight, until you realize how disrespectful you were!"

Later, I did bend and apologize to my mother about how I was acting, but it still didn't change how I felt about her now. And after blinking a few times, I know that I can't trust pretty much anyone now. Well, except for my friends, but now that I think about them, I'm having second thoughts. I would be so disappointed if one of them abused my trust.

But that was unthinkable, they were my friends!

I sigh, because I still can't sleep. And all of this thinking is not helping. At all. I look at my clock on my bedside table, and I notice that blue book on my table, the gold leaves spiraling up the spine, the one we found in the chest. I sit up and look at it, trying to decide if I should read it. Whatever's inside could really sever the already tearing bond my mother and I have.

I lean forward and grab the book, too curious to just ignore it. I get a flashlight from one of the drawers in the table and turn it on. When I try to open the book, it won't budge.

I try to wedge it open with a pencil, thinking the pages might have melted together or something, but that doesn't work.

And then I think of all those movies, where you had to cut yourself and put your blood on the book. I shiver, thinking about it. Using my pencil, seeing that I had nothing to cut myself with, I stab myself on my palm. I press my skin together, trying to get enough blood to do this, and I almost chicken out, but a little droplet of blood falls on the bundle of pages.