Page 14 of Echo
There was no date under my name.
Because this is about who owned the house. There was no date, because Pearl named me the next owner before she died.
I just needed a house. I had no desire to protect the world from whatever my family was trying to keep trapped. They could have warned a bitch.
On the wall with the door each house owner and some others were named with a list of traits and attributes, such as Pearl’s had a list of tall, blue eyes, shy. Someone noted a fifty-six percent chance for Pearl, whatever that meant.
What I found odd, was that my grandmother was given a seventy-six percent chance and she was the eldest, but hadn’t been given the house.
Seemed like an odd system.
I was the only one not marked as rejected on the wall. That wasn’t foreboding at all.
There was a list of good traits and bad traits.
“What the hell, Pearl?” No. This wasn’t Pearl. This was countless different handwritings and paint. Some places were faded to where I could barely read it in the darkness. This was generational, but no one had given me this part of the Rinah handbook.
I went over my own list beside my name.
Rinah blue eyes.
Brown hair.
Light pale skin.
Short.
Curvy.
Big mouth.
Big mouth and curvy was circled over and over again. I was assigned a distasteful ten percent chance.Kiss my curvy ass, Pearl.
If having a big ass got me a house to escape to, I couldn’t complain too much. But it was a bitch move to bypass her own son and closer female family members because I talked back and loved tacos.
“This family is so fucking weird.” I locked that shit back up how I found it. That was exactly why I didn’t want to go into a room in a house that wasn’t mine.
Congrats, that’s your creepy room now.
I could board that room up and pretend it didn’t exist. No problem.
“Ranger, we gotta get the family into therapy. The whole lot of them.”
He answered with a deep threatening growl that had me half running around the corner to find him. He was poised at the front door this time, ready to attack at a moment’s notice.
“What is it now?” As if he could answer.
God awful screeching dragged down the door, making my blood run cold. It was like nails on a chalkboard, or metal in a grinder. I was suddenly thankful that whatever this animal was, it was at the front door and not the back.
What was I supposed to do? Stay inside and hope that the thing went away.
I’d bet my last quarter there was a gun in here. There were too many animals running around for there not to be, but I hadn’t come across it yet.
The scratching grew louder and faster, as if the animal grew impatient waiting for its meal. Could whatever it was bust down the door?
No. The door was solid. It would hold through an assault from a bear. That was why I figured it was so thick and heavy.
Sweat gathered uncomfortably in all my creases despite that tidbit of logic. But I soothed myself in knowing that a bear or mountain lion wasn’t the worst animal to ever hunt me. I tip-toed across the hardwood as quietly as possible until I was right in front of the door.
