Bitter Truth

1

07:00

May, 2019

Chesterville Town

Lauren jerked up in bed.

“Uhgnnn...” she moaned, dragging a hand through her hair. She fell weakly back against the pillows.

Sunlight filtered in through her bedroom window and she squinted at it as she sat up in the bed. Something had woken her up, but she wasn’t sure what.

The sound came again.

Bang, bang, bang.

The door. Someone was at the door. Lauren frowned as she got out of bed and pulled on a bathrobe to cover her tiny shorts and tank top.

“Who the hell visits so early?” she croaked sleepily.

Over a month ago, Aunt Abigail, Lauren’s aunt, would have been the one answering the door, but since she’d passed away more than a month ago, Lauren was left on her own.

On her own to handle her fears and nightmares and anxiety.

All afuckinglone.

Sighing, she trudged to the door, knowing she looked a mess and not caring because she didn’t see the need to look presentable for whoever had the audacity to visit so early. Her aunt, Abigail Burns, had been a devoted Catholic and had sent Lauren to a Catholic Girls boarding high school, where they took pleasure in waking the students up at the tiniest hint of dawn.

The habit had never stuck with Lauren, however, and since she’d left that prison-house, she took every opportunity to sleep late.

Lauren pulled open the front door and her brows rose.

There, on her doorstep, stood an elderly man, leaning on a young male nurse who smiled brightly at Lauren. His nametag read “Jason”.

She blinked at him.

“Uh... can I help you?” Lauren asked the old man.

This had better not be some kind of door to door sales pitch. She’d heard people complaining of those these days.

The man stared at her silently for a few seconds before clearing his throat.

“Lauren Burns,” said the old man in a sharp, robust voice, stunning Lauren. “I am Advocate Montgomery Hutson and I am here to speak with you. Shall I come in?”

“Uhm...” Lauren started but stopped when the old man let go off his nurse and strode into her home, a gleaming wooden cane in his hand.

“What...?” Lauren spun around, staring as he gave a contempt-filled glance at a portrait of Aunt Abigail.

“Excuse me?” Hands on her hips, Lauren followed the man into the house. “I don’t think—”

He suddenly turned around, making Lauren halt suddenly.

“I must speak with you, young lady. Do not be afraid... I... I knew your mother.”

Lauren’s skin went cold and she stared, wide-eyed, at him.

“My... my momma?”

When he nodded, she slowly pointed to a sofa. “Uhm... please sit.”

If this sudden visit had to do with her mother, Lauren was willing to forgive them for disturbing her sleep.

“Young lady,” said the old advocate, his eyes focused on her face in a way that told Lauren that he was the kind of advocate who didn’t miss a thing. “I believe you are aware that your family home in Woodfair is still there. I’m not certain how much your Aunt told you, but there occurred horrible events in that house and it’s been empty since. However, the town council now intends to destroy it. I’m here to give you a chance to save your family house.”

Lauren stared dazedly at the thin man before her. Consumed by the torrent of thoughts flooding through her mind, a wave of dread following each thought.

The family house?

“Ms. Burns? Are you alright?” questioned the sharp voice.

Blinking, she brought the elderly man back into focus as he sat on the edge of her sofa. Her gray eyes pointlessly took in his large wire-rimmed glasses and the pale blue eyes behind them, staring at her from over a slightly crooked nose.

She shook her head and ran a hand through her long black mane.

“I’m sorry...Uhm…” Lauren’s voice trailed off. She’d forgotten the man’s name.

“Advocate Montgomery Hutson, Miss,” he said, staring pointedly at her and Lauren couldn’t help but get the feeling that he expected her to know him.

The name meant nothing to her. She didn’t know who the hell he was.

“Yes. Advocate Hutson...I’m afraid I don’t recall my aunt ever mentioning that we still have a family home in Woodfair. I was actually told that the old house was demolished after...the events that took place.”

Hutson sniffed, leaning heavily on his cane, his hands hovering just below his chin.  

“She would have said that,” he responded with poorly hidden venom in his tone.

Lauren blinked.“And why would she?”

“Your Aunt, Abigail Burns, was one of the most vindictive, most selfish—”

“Excuse me?” Lauren’s eyes were wide and she shot to her feet.

The old man quietened down and glanced at her briefly, his jaw jutting out defiantly. Had she not been so angry, the sight might have amused her.

“Are you aware that my aunt only passed away a month ago?”

“Well aware,” Hutson responded easily, unperturbed by Lauren’s outrage.

“Then can we please respect the dead?” she demanded, slowly sitting down again. “My aunt lived a hard life and I won’t have anybody disrespecting her memory now.”

The thin, elderly man’s lips formed a pout like that of a scolded child and he shrugged in resignation. Gentle eye rose and settled on her. “All grown up, aren’t you?” he quietly said.

Lauren lifted her own chin and smoothed a hand down her soft bathrobe as though it were a royal gown.

“Listen, child…” Hutson said with a grave expression. “I understand...yes, I do. I understand that the woman raised you and I expected nothing less than your defending her, but my visit here today is not an occasion to debate.”

Lauren gave the man a narrow-eyed look, wishing he would leave soon. The entire visit had been too strange for her liking. She had no idea who the old man really was and yet he’d rocked up on her porch demanding to speak to her about Woodfair! Of all places.

“What is the reason for your visit then?”

“I’ve told you! The house stands empty, it has for twenty years! I represent the town council. You must return to the town of Woodfair and sign the documentation to release it into the hands of the town council or you take full possession

of—”

Hutson’s passionate argument was suddenly cut off by a violent coughing fit.

Lauren’s eyes widened as the man’s thin body was racked by the cough.

She quickly ran to her kitchen to fetch a glass of water.

Lord knows she didn’t want the old man to perish right on her living room floor.

She helped him take a few sips of water and the cough finally ceased.

Placing the glass on a side table, Lauren hovered beside him anxiously, ready to catch the frail man if he were to lose his strength.

Hutson breathed deeply and waved her away.

“I’m...I’m alright. These old bones will live yet.”

Glancing at him nervously, Lauren took her seat.

“What I’m saying is…” he continued and Lauren prayed he wouldn’t get so excited this time. “Just go home and make a decision about that house. Your Aunt rejected it, refused to even acknowledge it. Your mother and grandfather, as I’m sure you know, have been missing for decades, presumed dead. You must make a choice.”

Lauren felt a sting in her heart at the mention of her mother.

“I can’t just go back to that place. It’s not home anymore. I left when I was just five years old, I remember nothing about it.”

“You didn’t leave, you were taken away! Besides, nobody is going to force you to remain there, child. Sort out the house.” Hutson slowly rose to his feet.

Lauren jumped to her feet as well.

“But... what about...him?” she questioned, her fingers already tugging at each other at the mention of the man who ruined her family’s peace.

“Who?” Huston asked, knowing fully well that she was talking about the young man.

“Aaron Spencer. The man who killed Grandfather and...my aunt reckoned he killed my mother too. He’s still there. I don’t want to see him, or even be in the same town as him! It’s bad enough breathing the same American oxygen as that monster,” she muttered quietly, her fingers clenching into fists as tears moistened her eyes.

Hutson stared sadly at the beautiful young lady. Raised to believe half-truths. With a shake of his head, he slowly started for the door.

“Go to Woodfair, child. There you will learn much that will change everything.”

Lauren watched him walk shakily to the front doors, where the handsome young nurse helped the old man walk towards a waiting car. She watched from the doorway, arms wrapped around herself as Hutson glanced at her over his shoulder once more.

“Go,” he said and got into the car. Lauren watched drive away and told herself she wasn’t going.

She didn’t know who the old man was, he could be mental for all she knew. She strode back in the house and closed the door, her heart uneasy.

“I won’t go!” she muttered hotly to herself. “Be in the same town as Aaron Spencer! Hah. Never.”