It had been an agonizingly boring two weeks at the house. The routine was the same: get up, eat, bitchiness, and hang outside. The “relationships” with her relatives had not improved by any noticeable margin, especially with her cousins; that first day with their mother hadn't made a good impression.
When they did find it in themselves to talk, it was an exchange of basic information, followed by bitter looks; but that was how Annabelle preferred her social life. Nobody bothered wasting their time to have a meaningful conversation with her beyond sharing the time supper is served, leaving her to her own devices.
Nature is where her heart desired to be, that one place where she could fuel over her spinning wheel of emotions that changed by the second. Her seventeen years of life were a blur of numerous shrink offices and psychiatric medication; she could not remember ever feeling true happiness, except when outside or surrounded by cats.
Her mental state was the reason her parents sent her to this place out in bum-fucked Egypt, and hopefully, keeping her out of trouble would follow suit. She scoffed at the thought of that. Mischief would knock on the door eventually and like always, Annabelle wouldn't be able to help herself.
She loved the cats, especially the recently rescued Siberian, whom she had named Dragon. A unique bond formed between the two in no time; it was an unspoken fact that the cat was hers. She could spend hours upon hours playing with that cat and he would play back just as hard. The cat had also become Annabelle's second shadow, as though as he was a puppy.
Headed to take a stroll down the serene country road? Here comes the cat. Loitering to the kitchen for a snack? Dragon is guaranteed to be trailing just behind her. How about to the loo for a quick piss? Take a peak behind Annabelle and the silvery ball of fur would be seen trekking after her.
At least there was one positive side effect to living at this house.
The sun shone brightly in the crisp morning air, reflecting off the pond that rippled from the splashing fish. Annabelle and Dragon lay sprawled in the dandelions circling around the pound, napping peacefully under the warm radiation of the sun.
Soon Dragon awoke, stretching out before streaking into the field.
Just like always, Annabelle jerked awake, the voices alive and well in the air. She reached out to pet her cat and felt grass instead. Wind ruffled strands of black hair across her face. She swatted the hair out of her eyes, straining to see into the distance; her cat was gone.
Yet the voices had not faded. They slithered maniacally around the space she occupied as though a poisonous mist, speaking in tongues she could not decipher if she had tried; almost demonic in their tone. She picked up the pace into a jog; then a sprint.
Annabelle felt like she'd been running forever when she finally reached the house, yanking open the door, slamming it behind her as gulped in breaths of oxygen, soothing her aching lungs. She mumbled to herself about the voices before feeling that she was not alone in her rambling.
Her relatives sat at the dining table, staring at her with perplexed expressions; the looks on her cousin's face told the story. They had come to the conclusion she was insane.
"You 'aight there, girl?" her uncle inquired.
Annabelle bolted up the stairs into her room, plopping down on the bed with a sigh of relief. Here, Dragon made his presence known, hopping up on the bed to cuddle besides her.
Poof. There was no other way to describe how quickly the voices disappeared. She turned her head to face her precious animal, who seemed to sense her attention on him, turning himself to look up at her with his amazingly blue eyes.
Annabelle froze at the sight before her. Fire danced in Dragon's eyes, twinkling brightly in a kaleidoscope of orange and crimson hues. Its smoky haze captured her attention, pulling her into a world of terrifying images.
Red dripping off unknown surfaces. Inhumane screams in the background. Hands waving frantically in the air, fighting off the unseen. Stained weapons she did not recognize. A man she had never seen before. The visuals faded, gone as quick as they came, and with that, so had her cat.
There was no way she could or would let her relatives know the visuals she had just witnessed; it would earn her a lovely jacket with buttons in the back.
She kept what she saw to herself.
ns 15.158.61.6da2
