The Grave Shadows

43. Game Over

In the morning of Halloween, the Watts boys pulled a drape for the grand reveal of their monumental mischief. There were many tricks, but no treat. Horror was real in this family. The audience was ready for the dark show, Cyan in the front row.

At the big door of the mysterious Watts boy's bedroom, his brothers stood, agitating and whispering among themselves. Apparently, this was their limit. They hesitated, so behind the door had to be monstrous.

Will huffed and pushed the door.

"I already hate this," Luke said as the wood squeaked.

The air slid in like a welcoming usher to be swallowed by indescribable rancidity. Fine dust fumed across the canopy gold bed, filtering through the flapping cobwebs on the posts. Hundreds of paintings made a melancholy maze, frames slanting against the walls, canvases scattering and tearing on the bed, arts stacking up to the ceiling, mysteries hiding in old clothes—some were bare on the easels. This bizarre art gallery was one startling perfidy. Terrorizing Cyan was the accuracy and precision of the artist. Old memories rushed through her more vivid than the photographs in her new home's tiny hallway. Every painting had Cyan's eyes, face, body, secrets, and tears.

Curling her hands into two fists, Cyan gazed at one particular frame—a girl in a red dress blanked by ignorance.

"This?" Cyan glared at Everett. She remembered finding very little information on David Watts from online or Corinne. She even concurred that her fascination about Bill Watts's second born had concocted those recurring strange dreams. But since Everett seemed to hate talking about his brothers, Cyan had never pushed for the answer. But this! "Why?" She gasped and took a step back, unsure of her own reasoning.

Some paintings were nude, and Cyan felt naked, betrayed, embarrassed—hurt. She trusted Everett with her most dreadful secret, but he hid this big room.

Everett said, "We didn't want you to know."

We? So it was a deliberate collaboration—the Watts boys' game. Cyan held Evil tight, the internal malevolence boiling violently.

"Because of David," Luke added. Even he had been lying. "David is... not normal. He's... difficult. You shouldn't get involved, Cyan." He glanced around the room—a shrine of trickery.

"We thought it was just one big coincidence at first," Simon said. "Cyan, we only tried to protect you."

Cyan shook her head, stepping backward. Everett lied, and her secret was in jeopardy. All of them knew. And these were their sick experiments to see if she would survive falling off the horse, terribly and chronically blushing, being in love with Everett, a cut in the throat, a stab in the chest, a slice in her stomach, and a kiss on a hand.

"There will be an explanation." Everett glided to Cyan, but his promise was just another mistake. "We'll figure it out."

"Where is David?" Cyan scanned the room and made a wider space between herself and the Watts boys. "I want to know why." Her inside writhed in the hateful wrath.

"You can't meet him," Everett said. He was always fast to decide for Cyan. "It's going to make things more complicated."

The other Watts boys nodded to agree.

Cyan dropped her face and lunged to the exit. She couldn't fight these boys as she did Corinne, Fray, and Bianca. "This is too much. I can't do this anymore."

"Cyan, wait!" Simon said. "There are more..."

***

In the Watts boys' entertainment room, Everett shut the door. Cyan sagged on a leather couch, besieged by perjuries. Luke scooted to Cyan, but she knew better than letting his arm brush against hers ever again.