Chapter six

Chris walked in the night air, his shoes off, hanging by the tips of his fingers, his socks tucked in along with the laces. His feet kicked around the dry sand as it sneaked in between his toes, the sand grew wet as he moved closer to the sea, he let it trickle over his feet, as the waves rolled in and out. He dropped his shoes, trailing closer to water, soon coming up to his ankles. It was cold, frigid on his feet. It was not long till he shed his clothes and dumped them onto the beaches shore. He didn't know why he felt a need to swim in the sea, he simple had found himself wondering by the sand after Dalmir left, his legs seemingly gravitating him towards the beach, as if he was on a led being pulled by an unknown master, his movement not his own. 

He looked up to the moon, feeling his chest soar, a weight lifting off his shoulders, he began to sob ever so gently, the tears falling on his cheeks. All at once he felt alone and lost, his feet swept back a few steps, as he sat down on the wet sand, he looked over to his clothes, soaking at the edge of the shore. His eyes switched to gaze at the beach, his eyes keen in the dark. He thought of a night that had been long since forgotten in his memories. He felt his throat close at it, it was a horrid night, remembering as his smaller body collected stones and pebbles, dropping them in whatever pocket or space he could find, dragging himself to the ocean's shore, the water had splashed on his covered legs tills he got further enough for it reach to his waist, but he walked on further till he could not walk at all. It was a cold winter evening and he knew even if he didn't drown, the ammonia would get him, he dunked his head under the water, and stayed there. Chris felt stupid thinking of it, and could never seem to remember how it ended, but no one ever seemed to mention it, and perhaps it never happened and it was all but a dream. 

Chris's eyes drifted shut, a blazing light shining behind his eyelids, shades of yellows, oranges and reds. He heard laughter, and a buzz of noise, then it all went quiet. And when he opened his eyes, he didn't feel so cold anymore, and lifted himself off the sand and walked towards the sea.

He floated there for a while, gazing up at the stars, the night speaking to him in a language forgotten by time and man, yet he heard whispers, and if he took the time he could have understood those whispers of wind and air, of the waves and twinkles of stars. The moon shined bright, smiling at the sight of Chris, and Chris smiled back, emerging himself into the arms of the ocean. He swam till he could see the beach far in the distance, a dark dot of his clothes laying on the sand. Something beneath him bloomed and blossomed, a blinding light, it was warm on his skin, and heated the water around him. And he did not know till it was too late that he was swallowed whole by that light, dragged down beneath the waves, the water was heavy around him, and Chris made the mistake to take a breath, his throat burned, as his hands soon went to it, his fingers piercing at the scars. Everything turned red for a moment, then he was in complete darkness.

Chris awoke in his bed, bare of clothes, all except a pair of white socks.

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Chris sat on the edge of his bed fully clothed, he had searched every corner of his room, and he could not find the clothes he left at the beach, nor his wardrobe. He wondered if he had walked home, and in his delirium placed socks on his feet and merely just slept as he was. But even in such a state Chris could not remember being so tired enough to walk through the town and home naked. But when he had awakened, he was dry and no scent of the ocean was left on his skin, though he noticed it seemed to glimmer more in the morning light than it had before.

Heading down the stairs, Chris could not help but wallow in his confusion, every scene of that night playing in his head, and the possibility of how he got home. He sat down at the kitchen table with a look of being astray. Then he thought of his research, the murders, the manor.

Chris jumped from his chair, racing back up the steps, with heavy thuds, running to his desk in his room, quickly picking up his laptop, then rushing back down the stairs again. He sat back down on his seat, opening up his laptop, and turning it on. He tapped his fingers against the tabletop impatiently, waiting for the laptop to start up.

By the double doors to the study his mother watched, taking light sips from her coffee, as her son manically typed his password onto the keys of his grey laptop, frantically compiling something on several documents.

"What are you doing sweetie?" she spoke in a honey like voice, placing her coffee mug closer to her chest.

Chris didn’t blink at the sudden voice, responding as simply as he could, as his back hunched forward. "Making a file of all the information i have so far,"

"Is this for a project or something?" her voice was uneven.

"I found out yesterday, going through some old newspaper stories and some death records,” he explained, “that there is a connection between the manor and the recent murders."

Amy, who had walked down stairs, took her usual seat next to her brother, "What type of pills are you taking?" she asked.

Chris grunted, "I'm serious,” he said in persistence, “these murders have been happening for decades, centuries even, and no has even looked into the fact that a good number of the victims worked at the manor. It can't just be me."

His mother and sister shared a look at one another. His mother moved closer to Chris. "Maybe you should start a jigsaw puzzle? or” she continued to think, “take up art,”

“write a play,” Michael joined, as he entered the room.

“anything would be healthier,” his mother stopped looking down at his laptop screen, “than this." her tone laced with worry and disdain.

"Dose no one care that there’s clearly a mass cover up in this town?!" his arms wailed about above him.

Everyone began to stare at Chris, good long while...

"So Martha got promoted to manager," Michael said after a short moment of silence, as the family began to ignore Chris's outburst.

Chris muttered to himself typing and collecting articles.

After a moment of the family chatting among themselves, Chris began to feel a heat rise in his throat, scorching him, it felt as if it was burning through his skin, shearing his flesh. His throat closed, and he gasped for breath, as his hands clawed at the sides of his neck. His face went red, as his eyes bulged. For a second he thought he was in water, drowning to the depths. But he was brought back, as his family gathered around him, he saw in the corner of his eyes blurred by tears, his sister running up the stairs in panic, he could hear the voices of his mother and brother, but couldn’t pin down the words, then every faded and became black...

He was standing in the dark, nothing around him. Till he felt something clang and clink at his feet, he picked up the object, it was a necklace, pearls, and silver, laced and threaded together, small gems encrusted into metal work, there was a symbol on a rounded piece of silver flattened to inches, it was rung around the neck of the necklace, the symbol was of moons, of stars, and suns, all merged together. he didn't understand why he knew that, but was certain that was what symbols were. Chris looked down at the pretty thing, rubbing it between his fingers. 

Then there was a crack and rumble. Chris had a sinking feeling that he was falling…

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