Page 4 of Cursed by Death

As I drove down the long winding driveway that led to my house I thought about turning around and driving back the way I’d come to be able to avoid him. Then I’d likely never comeback. And where would that leave me? Nowhere good, that’s for sure.

Normally, the long drive up the lane wouldn’t bother me, I always took in the view. Trees, as far as the eye could see. Forest, so dense and thick the thought of being bothered by the busy road at the end of the driveway was laughable. In the summer everything was green, luscious and looked incredibly healthy. In the fall when all the leaves changed color it looked like the house had been transported to an entirely different place. The same with winter when snow struck and the ground and branches were all covered in the purest of white. When spring rolled around the cycle would begin again and be no less beautiful than it had been the year before.

I took the last bend just a wee bit too fast and my grandmother’s house came into view.

It was too big for just myself, even with Thomas living in the guest house.

The house stood two stories tall and was painted an extremely cheerful yellow. It didn’t look tall, instead it looked long because it just was. I had no idea when the damn thing was built or how long it had been in my mother’s family for but it was old and a little bit weird in its shape. The front ran long as did each side. It was built like a square with a missing side to it. This made for an interesting backyard space that was blocked off on three sides and housed an inground pool. The rest was trees. No huge lawn for me to have to mow, not even in the front of the house. What made it beautiful was the flowers. Each window had boxes that overflowed with beauty. And on the ground in front of the entire house were rose bushes bursting with colors and roses in full bloom. I had worried about being the death of those flowers but Thomas made sure they stayed alive and healthy for me.

The dirt road that served as the driveway came to a circular end in front of a three-stall garage. A long, narrow wooden balcony ran the length of the garage’s second story and disappeared around the side where it ended with a staircase.

The garage was not old like the rest of the house. Thomas told me it had been built the year before I moved in. Above the garage was a large, open room with a small kitchen and an even smaller bathroom. I could rent it out as a studio apartment if I ever felt the need.

At one point, I had thought about putting an ad in the local newspaper, looking to rent out the space. Thomas had stopped me, saying no background check would make him comfortable enough to live with a stranger, they’d have to be thoroughly investigated. I wanted to argue with him that he wouldn’t be exactly living with the person but figured since the guest housewasback behind the garage that I didn’t really have a whole lot of room to argue. He’d be closer than I would. So, I gave up the idea of renting out the space to rid myself of the burden of being lonely.

I had Thomas, I really shouldn’t complain.

On that thought, I parked my sporty, white Jeep Patriot in front of the farthest garage door on the right. The Patriot had been a gift from Thomas for my twenty-first birthday. He thought the car I had before was an unsafe piece of crap. My words, not his. He would never call something a piece of crap out loud, it would be far too rude for him. It’s what he meant, though.

I got out of my Patriot smiling to myself, thinking about old man Thomas, the refined attorney, calling something a piece of crap. I would never get to see or hear such a thing in real life so I figured I might as well enjoy it while it was in my head.

I walked around the vehicle and instead of heading straight to the main house I decided to take a detour, heading around the garage and towards the little guest house out back.

The guest house was small, one-story, one bedroom with one bathroom and painted the exact same cheery yellow as the main house. It had white window boxes hanging from every window, each box overflowing with some long green hanging plant. They were quite pretty but I thought they would look better if they flowered.

I walked along the stone pathway with my head down, not paying attention to my surroundings until I came to a stop at the front door. My mind was solely on Thomas and hoping I had succeeded in keeping my emotions shoved down deep, away from the surface, in an attempt to make sure he would worry a little less about me. It didn’t hurt that I had no desire to play twenty questions with him tonight. Not when it came to my time spent in the Harmond House.

I knocked lightly on the door. I could have rung the doorbell but figured it was pointless since he’d more than likely be on the lookout for me.

My mouth got tight and my head came up when an entire minute slid by without Thomas having opened the door to let me inside. He never kept me waiting.

Had he left while I was gone? I didn’t think so. Normally, he made a point to let me know when he was going out. We had that kind of relationship and it seemed like common courtesy to let the other know when we were going to be out so no one worried.

I knocked on the door again, this time louder.

Another minute went by with no answer and I really started to worry.

I turned around and headed back towards the garage as I dug through my purse one-handed. I scanned the area as I kept pawing through my purse blind. Something didn’t feel right andI didn’t dare take my eyes off the familiar world around me to look inside my purse so I could put an end to the search. My fingers wrapped around my cell phone as I made it to the side garage door under the stairs. I pulled my phone free of my purse as I peered in through the glass paned window. Through the dark, I spotted Thomas’s black BMW parked where it always was. If he’d have gone out he would have driven his car. We were two people alone in the world save for each other. If he went anywhere he drove because there was no one else to come and pick him up.

I swallowed thickly as I looked down at the now illuminated phone screen. Something felt wrong here. Where was he?

I hit Thomas's contact and pressed down on the green button. I hit speaker so I wouldn't have to put the phone against my ear or be distracted by it as I continued to scan my surroundings. The hair on the back of my neck stood up straight and at attention as my body began to feel clammy. I could feel eyes on me coming from somewhere and instantly felt they weren't friendly.

I was losing my mind.

And the phone kept ringing on and on. Finally, it went to voicemail where I left a hurried message for Thomas to call me back and soon, or I was going to hunt him down and kick his geriatric ass.

I stuffed my phone back into my purse and blew out a deep breath, trying to calm down my nerves. It didn't work.

A sick feeling filled my stomach with dread. He was old but I never considered that he was actuallyold.He seemed so healthy and full of life to me that his age never even factored in. I had thought Thomas capable of anything but in reality, he wasn't. He was an eighty-year-old man getting close to ninety and, though he was healthy, his age was bound to catch up to him sooner or later.

What if he'd fallen or had a heart attack or something equally as horrible and was now lying in there slowly dying while he waited for me to come home and save him?

I dropped my purse to the ground and ran back to the guest house. I pounded uselessly on the door for another minute before trying the handle. To my shock, the door opened immediately. Thomas never left his door unlocked. Never. Even though we lived out here alone with no neighbor to be seen and no-one ever came out here to visit, he told me it was important to always keep the doors locked and the security systems engaged at all times. There were bad people everywhere, he'd told me, and we didn't want to make things easier for them by being stupid. I had to agree with him because I'd spent the majority of my life surrounded with bad people who'd done things that had fucked up my whole life. He hadn't needed to tell me twice and, not only had I kept all my doors locked 24/7 but I'd made sure the security system had been on at all times, whether it was the middle of the day or not.

I burst into his little house and frantically searched for any sign of him.

My heart sank as I took in the messy living room. The sofa was turned over onto its side, the cushions a shredded mess with the stuffing strewn all over the place. The priceless tea set he'd received from his mother upon her death bed and had lovingly taken care of since was shattered to pieces and splattered across the floor. He'd been so careful with it but that had never stopped him from using it. I'd been forced to drink tea with him out of one of those stupid cups many a time and each time I had been terrified of dropping it or placing it too hard back on its saucer and chipping it. And now it was smashed to pieces all over the floor.

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