relented.
“Good, now I have to go into the office for a bit, but I'll be back before you know it.”
Maybe she shouldn't have told her mother about the black eyed man. But, at least she had gotten something out of it. Now she knew that she had been worrying about all the wrong things and she knew that Steven would be the only one who could make things clear for her.
In the back of her mind, Kennedy hid the real source of her panic. She had never been dedicated to her father’s research. But, she did pay some attention to him once in a while and the thing about the black smoke and dark eyes rang a very loud bell in her mind.
She knew what it was, but just like many other things, she decided to ignore it in favor of whatever rational explanation was available to her.
If her father were there, he would explain without ever once thinking her delusional. But, he wasn’t and she was beginning to fear that he never would be again and there she was, alone in the house again as her mother left for work.
Kennedy looked down at the cordless phone that rested in it's cradle on the side table. She had tried calling her father several times since last night – when she had found a menacing looking man bent over the dead body of a young girl – but the call went straight to his voicemail every single time.
She was getting desperate. She couldn't just wait for him to decide that it was time to go home like her mother asked. She dialed the number again and got ready to talk. She would leave him a message.
Just as she’d expected, the line went straight to voice mail and the message she now knew by heart greeted her. She swallowed hard and spoke after the beep.
“Dad? I don’t know where you are or if you’ll even get this message.” She inhaled deeply.
“Dad, I saw something. I found a dead girl and there was this man...” A tear escaped her eye. She felt it run down her face.
“He had these eyes.” Her voice broke.
“Look, I’m sorry I never believed you. But, I need you to come home now. Papa please!” She ended the call, angry at herself for being so weak.
The tears had come at last. She wiped furiously at her face wishing that she could be stronger. She missed the numbness that she had felt before. To make matters worse, the evening news report was on and they were talking about the dead girl that she had found.
Kennedy put the phone back in it's cradle and looked at the TV, a picture appeared on screen as the news anchor's voice gave the report over it. The girl’s name was Brandi Carter and she'd been nineteen when she died.
She looked different in the photo. Her hair, although a bit longer, was still the same red color that she remembered and her eyes – those unforgettable lifeless eyes – were a vibrant shade of green.
Brandi, the face had a name now.
In the picture, she smiled brightly at the camera as if that moment had been the happiest of her life. According to the reporter, she was last seen walking home from campus in her hometown of Miami, Florida about a little over six months ago, before she was found murdered last night.
The story went on to show some interviews with the deceased girl’s family. Kennedy turned it off and went out of the house.
She didn't want to remember that night. But, it had forever been painted into her memory, a portrait of death in flashes of red, blue and orange. She would never be able to look at an ambulance or a police cruiser the same again.
She didn’t know where she was going, but she didn't want to hear any more.
So she walked staring at the ground and found herself standing on Damien’s front porch, muttering to herself – still debating whether she should go ahead and knock or turn back.
The door opened abruptly.
She gave a little jolt in surprise and her hand went straight to her chest. To say that she had been startled would be an understatement. With so many scares over the past couple of weeks, she could be sure that she didn't suffer from any unknown heart conditions.
“A bit jumpy, are we?” Damien smirked and took one step outside, leaving the door only inches of being closed behind him.
“I’m sorry, are you heading out?” She suddenly regretted being there.
“Actually, I saw you walk up to the house.”
“Oh.” She saw his mocking half smile and knew that he thought that it was amusing when her cheeks instantly flushed pink.
“Was there something that you needed?” He asked, after a brief uncomfortable silence where she just stood and looked at everything but him.
“No. I just– I don’t wanna be alone right now.” She looked at him then, her eyes huge and pleading. He sighed and moved aside to let her in as he pushed open the door with one hand. Kennedy gave him a relieved smile and went inside.
The entry hall was exactly as she'd remembered it. She had gone over with her parents to visit their former neighbor lots of times. It struck her as weird that everything was the same, right down to the creepy religious decorations that Mr. Nieves had adorning every corner of the house.
She heard Damien step in after her and close the door behind him. At that point, she half expected to hear the lock click, followed by the sound of his evil laughter. Seeing him walk past her and into the living room, sending her a questioning look, made her want to slap herself for being so paranoid.
So he had bought a furnished house. He wouldn’t be the first person in the history of the world to do something like that. She needed to get a grip on her nerves. Kennedy swallowed and followed him.
The sitting room was also as she had remembered it, a wide space with a few indoor plants here and there, an antique chandelier hanging from the ceiling and a set of rattan seats that faced each other. They were separated by a beige colored rug that was placed underneath them at the center of the room.
One of the walls was mostly windows in its entirety, made of a special tempered glass that reflected on the outside so you couldn’t look in, but you could look out. Like the one-way mirrors that were used in interrogation rooms. On the rival wall there was a tall set of shelves that were filled with lots of different books of all colors, shapes and sizes.
Damien gestured for her to seat and without another thought, she did. He took out one of the books from the shelf closest to him and sat in the seat opposite her.
He opened the book and began to read mutely to himself.
Normal Kennedy would have complained indignantly at his rudeness, but Numb Kennedy sat silently and looked at her hands as she tried not to think.
She didn’t know how long she sat like that. Except that she kept the same position for so long that her legs fell asleep. Now, she waited for the numb sensation to spread throughout the rest of her body.
“All right, I will bite. What is wrong?” Damien closed his book, marking the page with a finger and stared at her. Kennedy wanted to talk, but hesitated.
She couldn’t just out a Haley Joel and say, “I saw a dead girl”. He would laugh at her. Damien cleared his throat to remind her that he waited for an answer.
“You must have a reason for coming here. What is it?” He asked again.
Kennedy sighed and began, “Last night–”, her voice faltered and she bit her lip.
That peaked his interest and he made a motion for her to go on. She told him about going to see the movie after she’d sat on his driveway and watched him work on his car.
She told him about how crappy the film was and he laughed softly at her recounting of it and as she’d never heard him laugh before, she felt something in her alleviate. But, the feeling didn’t last long.
She was soon at the part where she’d seen the strange man and just like she did with the police, she left the intimidating black eyes out of the equation. She didn’t want him calling her a freak like the kids at school used to do. Kennedy didn’t think that she would stand it coming from him.
She watched his expressions change from amused, to weary and then, when she reached the subject of Brandi, she saw his expression turn
guarded for an instant, before it was quickly replaced by concern.
She had seen the slip, or she had thought she did. She hated to second guess herself so much. But, after last night, she couldn’t be sure what was real and what wasn’t. She felt like she was going insane and Damien’s condescending look wasn't making it any better.
“I am sure that it must have been a horrible experience for you, I am assuming that this was the first dead body that you have seen?” She looked at him incredulously. How many dead bodies had he seen? He dismissed her look. “Even so, you need to get a hold of yourself.”
They were both quiet for a while until she broke the silence, her voice almost a whisper as she tried to word her distress.
“It’s hard to just stop when you’re spinning around so fast on your feet that you think you might fall over at any second.” She noted, after she had spoken, that it was truly how she felt. She felt like she was spinning rapidly and the events were so dizzying that she would crumble if she lost her footing.
“Then you need to find something solid to hold on to or you will get sick, Kennedy.” The sound of her name on his lips gave her a warm feeling at the pit of her stomach. She absently noticed that he had stayed with her analogy and smiled.
“What are you reading?” Kennedy fished for a change of subject and was immensely grateful when her poor attempt at a diversion was taken into consideration.
“Paradise Lost.” He humored her with an answer. The title of the book seemed