Seren

GRACE

I tossed in bed all through the night, unable to get comfortable on the new mattress. If I’d slept more than three hours, it would’ve been a miracle. Like my appetite these days, my sleep pattern was out of whack. I glanced at my phone on the nightstand noting it was almost eight o’clock. Sleeping in the basement apartment with no windows would either be a blessing or a curse.

I sat up, stretching my arms above my head and twisting my long dark hair back into the hairband it had come loose from. The only bright side to my new situation was that it was spring break which gave me time to unpack, explore the house and grounds, and get acclimated to my new surroundings.

I’d expected Maureen to greet us when we’d arrived the previous night, but she was nowhere to be found as we made our way to “the helps’ quarters” which were indeed the basement. My mom’s apartment was homier and more modern than the older exterior of the house would suggest. She had two bedrooms, a kitchen area with nice marble countertops, and a bathroom with a spa tub and glass shower. My mom’s bedroom had a flat-screen on the wall and a queen-sized bed with a pretty lace comforter.

Maureen had made sure a bed was there when I arrived and had even decorated my new room with a pastel plaid comforter and matching throw pillows, a flat-screen, and a sleek white desk. I wondered if she was happy to have a girl in the house to balance out the testosterone of her three teenage boys. It wasn’t like I expected to see her often since the unspoken line had been drawn long ago between her and my mom. But, despite their change in status over the years, I still respected the fact that Maureen had suggested we move to Grayson Manor. She even handled selling our home so my mom didn’t have to. I guess she figured my mom didn’t need a mortgage to pay on her own now that my dad was gone.

My mom’s footsteps in the kitchen drew my attention to my closed bedroom door. I loved her with all I had, but for almost eighteen years, I only had her on weekends. During the week, my dad and I would fend for ourselves. Now, the notion that I’d be with her every day held a tinge of sadness, reaffirming the reason why. Tears stung my eyes. I wondered when the pain would stop hurting so much.

I crawled out of bed and opened my door, finding my mom in an outfit straight out of some historical British drama. “Oh, my God.”

“What?”

My eyes drifted over the one-piece, black, polyester dress with frilly white apron. “Maureen seriously makes you wear that?”

“She was a bit obsessed with Downton Abbey.”

I shook my head, unable to look at her with a straight face. No wonder why she never brought her uniforms home. My dad and I never would’ve let her live it down. “Please tell me she doesn’t make you use a feather duster.”

Laughter tumbled out of her. “No.”

“Good,” I said, loving that she could still laugh after everything we’d been through. There was hope for me yet.

“How’d you sleep?” she asked.

“I’d be lying if I said good.”

Her lips twisted in disappointment. “Is there anything I can do?”

I shook my head. “It’s gonna take time.”

She walked over and wrapped her arms around me. “For both of us.”

I relaxed into her hug, wishing a hug didn’t feel so necessary.

She inevitably released me and stepped back, straightening her uniform.

“Would it be okay if I explore the grounds or do they have security—or vicious dogs—patrolling the premise to keep the riff-raff out?”

She smirked, knowing my dad and I had teased her for years about the hoity-toity place she worked. “Everyone knows you’re here now. They’ll leave you alone. Just be sure not to wear a ski mask or press your back against the wall and act suspicious.”

I laughed. “I think I can handle that.”

“Oh,” she said abruptly. “The boys will be at school until two-thirty.”

“They’re not on spring break?”

She shook her head. “They had it last week and spent it in Mexico. But when they do get home, stay away from them.”

My brows knitted together. “Why?”

She pursed her lips as if she didn’t know how to verbalize what she wanted to say. “They…” she began. “They haven’t been the same since their father died.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means…their idea of a good time is not the same as yours.”

“Could you be any more cryptic?” I asked.

She heaved a sigh. “Trust me, Grace. They enjoy hurting others. Let me rephrase that. They enjoy watching other people get hurt. They’ve changed over the past three years and neither Maureen nor Martine can control them.”

“Okay. No fraternizing with twisted rich boys who torture others. Got it.”

“I’m not joking,” my mother warned as she grabbed her phone from the counter and tucked it into her frilly white apron. “Stay away from them,” she said as she moved to the door and opened it. “Call me if you need me.”

“You mean if I get lost?”

She rolled her eyes before closing the door behind her, probably knowing that me getting lost on the property was a true possibility.

***

I sat under one of many beautiful flowering trees trying to read a book on my phone. Since my dad died, I couldn’t finish a chapter without my mind wandering back to him—his laugh, his advice, his amazing hugs. I switched over to social media, scanning my news feeds for anything to make me feel as though I hadn’t been ripped away from my town. I hadn’t seen most of my friends since the funeral. And, I really needed my friends. Sure, we talked every day, but it wasn’t the same. I couldn’t wait to be back at school on Monday.

My finger lingered over my photos app. I desperately needed to see my dad, but I couldn’t bring myself to look at photos or videos of him yet.

“Oh my God!”

I looked around, searching for the girl whose voice had carried across the property.

“Oh my God!” she yelled again.

Goosebumps popped up all over my body, and I jumped to my feet, bolting a hundred yards across the lawn to the pool house where the voice seemed to carry from. I couldn’t run fast enough to reach the voice. My breath heaved as I approached the front door. I grasped the knob and pulled, but it was locked. I hurried to one of the floor-to-ceiling windows and cupped my eyes to keep out the sun’s glare so I could peer inside. I scanned the furnished sitting room and the kitchen area. Everything appeared silent and still.

I turned back toward the pool, thinking maybe the sound had come from there or the outdoor patio.

“Seren!” she said, but she no longer sounded scared. More like she was urging someone on. And it ~was~ coming from inside the pool house.

“You like that?” a deep voice asked, causing the hair on my arms to stand on end.

“Yes,” she said all breathy and unafraid.

I took another look into the window and spotted two people in the corner of the room. A shirtless guy with his back to me had his hands splayed on the wall above his head with a girl caged between him and the wall. I couldn’t see beyond the sofa blocking my view but from what I could gather, his hips were moving.

“Just like that,” she begged.

Shit.

I’d seen enough to know what was happening. And I’d been very wrong.

I removed my hands from the window to get away from the embarrassing situation, but my elbow knocked against the glass.

I froze and my eyes widened.

The guy looked over his shoulder, locking his eyes on me. I winced, hoping my features conveyed my apology for stumbling upon the two of them. I expected him to stop what he was doing, but he didn’t. He kept me locked in his cold emotionless glare as he continued thrusting into the girl.

As much as I needed to move away from the window, my feet wouldn’t budge. I feared that when I moved, he’d see all of me. And the way he wouldn’t allow me to move from that spot told me he was used to doing what he wanted and to hell with everyone else.

I finally unfroze and spun away from the window, running back to the main house as quickly as I could. I didn’t turn back for fear of finding those cold emotionless eyes still on me. Because I knew, with much certainty, that he’d still be watching me.