CHAPTER 2
1491 Words
Charissa hated mornings.
Not in the normal “five more minutes” kind of way either.
No.
She hated mornings with passion. With history. With personal resentment.
Especially peaceful ones.
The kind currently happening outside her bedroom window.
Birds chirped somewhere in the distance. The ocean waves rolled softly somewhere nearby. Sunlight slipped through the curtains in warm golden lines like something straight out of a skincare advertisement illuminating her light honey hue skin.
Disgusting.
Charissa pulled the blanket over her head with a groan.
Bellmere had officially been added to my list of enemies, right after my mother. She's sweet and like an amazing mom, but sometimes I'd wish she got cut while making breakfast. She grates on my every nerve when she can.
A knock sounded against the door.
Too cheerful.
Far too cheerful for my liking.
“Good morning, sweetheart!”
Aunt Leah.
Charissa kept her eyes closed.
“If I don’t answer,” she mumbled from beneath the blanket, “pretend I died peacefully.”
The door opened anyway.
“Rise and shine.”
Charissa slowly lowered the blanket just enough to glare at her aunt standing in the doorway holding a mug with the fingers that just barely escapes the long arms of her morning robe. "I think this robe thing is a genetic preference," I say more to myself.
“How are you this energetic at…” She grabbed her phone from beside the bed squinting at the screen. “…8:12 in the morning?”
Her aunt looked offended.
“It’s a beautiful day.”
“That’s exactly the problem.”
Aunt Leah laughed softly before walking further into the room and placing the mug on the bedside table.
Coffee.
Okay. Slightly forgiven.
“I made breakfast,” her aunt said. “And before you ask, yes, you’re leaving this house today.”
Charissa groaned immediately.
“No.”
“You’ve been here almost twenty-four hours and only left your room to eat.”
“That’s called adjusting.”
“That’s called behaving like a vampire.”
Charissa sat up reluctantly, hair covering half her face.
“In my defense,” she said seriously, “this town is suspiciously happy.”
Aunt Leah blinked.
“What does that even mean?”
“Nobody honked angrily yesterday. Not once.”
“That’s your concern?”
“Yes.”
Her aunt shook her head laughing before heading toward the door.
“Be downstairs in twenty minutes.”
“Or?”
“I’ll drag you myself.”
The door shut behind her.
Charissa stared blankly at it for a few seconds before collapsing backward onto the mattress again.
She missed Credence already.
Not even because she loved it dramatically. It was just familiar.
Bellmere felt too still.
Too quiet.
Like the kind of town where everybody knew your business before you did.
By the time she finally came downstairs, Aunt Leah was already setting plates onto the dining table while soft music played from somewhere in the kitchen.
The entire house smelled like pancakes and coffee.
Which honestly felt manipulative.
“You look exhausted,” Aunt Leah said.
“I woke up.”
“That’s usually how mornings work.”
Charissa ignored her and dropped into one of the chairs dramatically.
Breakfast passed with surprisingly little suffering.
Mostly because Aunt Leah did most of the talking.
Apparently:
Bellmere had a summer festival every year
there was a bookstore downtown Charissa would “absolutely love”
and somebody named Mrs. Ortiz apparently sold the best cinnamon rolls in existence.
Charissa listened halfway while scrolling through messages on her phone.
MAYA: Have you fallen in love yet?
CHARISSA: I’ve fallen into emotional distress.
MAYA: Same thing honestly.
Charissa smiled faintly.
Aunt Leah pointed at her with a fork.
“You’re smiling. Bellmere is healing you already.”
“Don’t say things like that.”
“Like what?”
“Therapy quotes.”
Her aunt laughed again.
Way too easily.
Everything about Bellmere irritated Charissa slightly because people here seemed genuinely content and she didn’t trust that.
After breakfast, Aunt Leah practically forced her out of the house.
“At least walk around town,” she insisted.
“I already saw the town yesterday.”
“Through a car window.”
“Still counts.”
“Charissa.”
That tone again.
Threatening but loving. Terrifying combination.
So now here she was.
Walking through Bellmere unwillingly with her headphones around her neck and zero enthusiasm.
Okay.
Maybe tiny enthusiasm.
Just a little.
The town looked different during the day.
The roads still glistened faintly from yesterday’s rain while flower boxes overflowed beneath shop windows. Small cafés lined the streets, warm with conversation and music spilling through open doors.
People actually smiled here.
At strangers.
Voluntarily.
One old woman walking past even waved at Charissa like they were longtime friends.
Absolutely terrifying behavior.
Charissa wandered aimlessly for nearly thirty minutes before stopping in front of a small bookstore tucked between a bakery and flower shop.
—The Bellmere Bookroom.—
Okay. Now this interested her.
A small bell chimed softly above her head as she stepped inside.
Immediately, warmth wrapped around her.
The smell hit next.
Books. Coffee. Old paper and glue.
Perfect.
Now THIS felt safe.
The bookstore was quiet except for soft music playing somewhere overhead and the occasional turning of pages.
Charissa wandered slowly between shelves, running her fingers absentmindedly along book spines.
Fantasy. Romance. Mystery.
One shelf labeled: SUMMER RECOMMENDATIONS
How dramatic.
She smiled slightly to herself before turning into another aisle—
Then stopped.
Him.
The boy from yesterday.
Dark hoodie again. Headphones resting around his neck this time. Sitting on the floor between shelves with a book open in one hand.
For a second, Charissa genuinely thought maybe she was imagining things.
But then he looked up.
Straight at her.
Again.
And there it was.
That same strange feeling from yesterday.
Like being noticed too carefully.
His bright onyx eyes—so hypnotizing—lingered on her for barely a second before he looked back down at his book casually.
No smile. No greeting.
Nothing.
Charissa frowned slightly.
Okay then.
Weird.
She turned toward another shelf pretending not to notice him anymore, but awareness prickled stubbornly at the back of her neck.
He looked familiar.
Not in the “I know him” way.
More like "she was supposed to know him way."
Which made absolutely no sense.
A loud cough suddenly broke the silence.
Charissa looked back instinctively.
The boy bent forward slightly, one hand pressed against his mouth as another harsh cough escaped him.
Not normal coughing either.
The kind that sounded painful.
Her expression shifted immediately.
“You okay?”
The question left her before she could stop it.
He glanced up at her briefly.
For the first time, she noticed how tired he looked.
Not sleepy.
Exhausted.
Like his body was carrying something heavy.
“Yeah,” he said quietly.
Lie.
Even she could tell that.
Before she could say anything else, he stood quickly, closing the book in his hand.
Then he walked past her.
Close enough that she caught the faint scent of rain and something medicinal.
And just like that—
He left.
Charissa blinked after him.
That was… strange.
Very strange.
An older woman appeared at the end of the aisle moments later carrying books in her arms.
“Sorry about that,” she said kindly. “He usually leaves when it gets bad.”
Charissa frowned slightly.
“When what gets bad?”
The woman paused.
Then smiled too quickly.
“Oh. Nothing.”
Liar.
Before Charissa could ask anything else, the woman wandered off again.
Weird town.
Very weird town.
And weird people too.
By evening, the sky had turned soft shades of orange and pink.
Charissa sat on the kitchen counter eating strawberries while Aunt Leah cooked dinner nearby.
“So,” her aunt said casually, “how was town?”
“Suspicious.”
Aunt Leah laughed.
“You say that about everything here.”
“Because everybody acts like they’re in a Hallmark movie.”
“Bellmere is friendly.”
“Bellmere is unsettling.”
Her aunt rolled her eyes affectionately then her 12 year old cousin comes running to steal more strawberries.
"Careful burgundy. No running in the house."
Charissa hesitated briefly before speaking again.
“There’s this guy.”
Aunt Leah looked over immediately.
Charissa almost regretted wording it like that.
“Not like that,” she said quickly. “I just saw him yesterday and again today.”
“Who?”
“The one always wearing a dark hoodie.”
Aunt Leah paused slightly while stirring the pot.
And for some reason—
The reaction felt important.
“You mean Eli?” she asked finally.
So that was his name.
Charissa shrugged casually.
“I guess.”
Aunt Leah looked down quietly for a second before speaking again.
“Poor boy.”
- Writer
