Taken

Chapter 5

            I guess I can understand Mother's thoughts on the garden at least. We used to work on it with Nina, it being our favorite past time. Nina had put more of her heart in that garden than Mother and I combined. I guess working on the garden is too big of a reminder of Nina.

Everything seems to remind me of Nina nowadays.

            Snap out of it, Aria, you've got a key to find, I tell myself as I sober up and hurry to Father's desk, shaking these thoughts out of my head in the process.

            I pause when I stand in front of the massive desk, staring at the clutter of papers and books that cover every inch of it's smooth glossy surface.     

            How am I supposed to find one key in this mess?

            After a moment of taking in the unpleasant sight before me, I sigh and start to sift through the papers, not wanting to move too many of them incase Father notices. I don't have long until Mother and Charlie get home so I have to find the key quickly.

            I turn to the desk drawers when searching through the top has proven useless. I tug them open and hunt for the key, even going as far as to look for a false bottom just incase it's hidden there, but I come up with nothing.

            I check under the desk and manage to whack my head on the wood.

            "Ow," I mutter as I rub my scalp, glaring at the spot where I hit my head, only to find a seam in the wood.

            I furrow my eyebrows as I run my fingers along the seam, finding it the size of a small box. I push against it, but it doesn't budge. I study the wood around it, running my fingers along the glossy finish to see if there's a button or something else of the sort. Nothing.

            There's got to be something in there, so why can't I open it?

            I pound my fist against the wood in frustration, letting out an annoyed sigh when nothing happens. With a frown I begin crawling out from under the desk when I hear the familiar creak of wood underfoot as someone makes their way down the hall outside of the study.

            I freeze, listening to the squeak of the floorboards getting closer before my body and brain finally snap out of it. I crawl back under the desk, pulling the chair in with me. I hide in the shadows with my back pressed up against the wood and my knees pulled up to my chest, trying to become as small as possible. For me, it isn't that hard.

            A groan echoes around the study as the door opens, the old hinges needing oil. My bones ache from the low and deep sound. Pinpricks stab at my temple signaling the start of a headache.

            I hear the door close before the sound of the approaching figure continues, only this time it's followed by voices. Two very familiar ones to be exact.