The Heir

I detest the rain. I detest that feeling it gives me, as if it strained right into my bones and ever made everything so important colder and more distant. It's just. wrong. But it's each there's then-- this ceaseless rain in this godforsaken city. " Do you suppose the rain will stop soon?" I ask, my voice low, slightly a whisper. But the driver does not say a word. He has n't since he picked me up at the airport. I shift uncomfortably in the aft seat, the familiar weight of my jacket hanging like a useless reminder of a life I can slightly flash back . The car pulls, tires sinking for a moment on the decreasingly unfaithful road. The city- or whatever you call it- does n't look like important one long road, a many worsening buildings, and the occasional ghostly figure walking by, wrapped in thick coats, their heads down, no one daring to meet your eyes. I lean forward, eyes tracing the fogged- up windows, hopeless for something to feel familiar, something that reminds me of what I had what I lost. " You are gon na be fine, son," the driver says, gruff, but it's not assuring at each, really- just empty. Like the city." Get out, take a deep breath, and you will be alright." Right. Like that is gon na happen. I look out the window again, trees whipping by while the rain comes down harder. It's been years since I have seen my grandparents, and I do not indeed know why they dragged me then, of all places. I mean, who does such a thing? Who sends a kid, an heir at law to a damn empire, off to some place where the people do not indeed know what a smartphone is? I do not want to suppose about it. The accident, the funeral, the endless condolences. the vacant stares. " We are then." The car slows to a stop in front of a large slate stone house. It's cold and breathless- like everything differently in this place. Not indeedflowers-most clearly no warmth- but stone and darkness. The driver slams the gear into park, also turns in his seat. " Just. get outside. It will be fine," he says over and over again, like he is trying to soothe some fragile thing, but it is not helping. I take another deep breath to steady myself.However, they would suppose I'm a man who has everything, If anyone saw me right this alternate. A man who has been to the edge and back, a man who had endured a living hell. But outside, I feel as if I'm tearing piecemeal. The door creaks open, and a effervescing gust of cold wind enters, alive nearly. Or perhaps that is just the damned rain. I stepped out of the car and heard the door slam behind me. My feet hit the ground, and incontinently I was heavier, as if gravity itself wanted to pull me into the mud, into darkness. I swallow, feeling the knot in my throat grow. There’s no point in arguing presently. I’m then. I’ve got no choice. The driver does n’t stay for me to gather my thoughts. He gets back in the car and drives off, leaving me standing there, alone. The frontal door opens, and there she is Reginald and Edith's housekeeper, Mrs. Wallace. She's still the same as my memory of her slender, altitudinous, cold, and sharp- eyed, eyes that always sounded to look right through you. She says no greeting. She just jounced for me to enter. As I step through the door, the warmth of the house hits me, but it's the kind of warmth that feels stifling, like a blanket that is been left too long in the dryer. " Follow me," Mrs. Wallace mutters." They are staying for you." I follow her, my footsteps echoing in the grand hall. The house is as cold as the rain outdoors, every room filled with dark furniture and shadowed corners. No pictures on the walls. No signs of life. Just. emptiness. We reach the study. Mrs. Wallace gives a soft knock and pushes the door open, and I can hear the soft rustling of papers from outside. " Ah, Sebastian," my grandfather's voice breaks through the silence, cold and harsh, like the bite of winter." Come in. We’ve been staying." I step outside, and my eyes grow oriented to the faint light. Reginald Green sits at a gigantic oak desk, his hands clasped into each other, his expression sculpted into sternness. His wife, Edith, stands at the window, her eyes fixed into the rain as if she wished not to admit my presence. " You've kept us staying long enough," Reginald continues, his voice thin and cropped." But I suppose we'll give you a moment to acclimate." I feel like a child, like I have done something wrong just by breathing. I do not know what I anticipated, but this is not it. This is not what I allowed I was coming to. There is no comfort then, no softness. Just two people who could not watch lower about what happed to me, so long as the world noway finds out. " Sebastian," Edith says eventually, her voice as keen as any blade edge," You should be thankful. We do this for your own good. You need to learn discipline. You need to learn that life is n't about. about living in excess." I wheeze, nearly suspecting." Discipline? From you two? You do not indeed know the meaning of the word." Edith's eyes narrow, but she says nothing. Reginald, still, looks as if he were about to say something, but also thinks better of it. I can feel the pressure build, thick and stifling, and I do not know what to do with it. " Tomorrow, we'll get you settled," Reginald says, his voice cutting through the silence like a knife." Now go to your room. You are not allowed out until you've had a proper rest." I glance at Edith, who has n't indeed bothered to look my way. Her face is stone, and I can virtually hear her thoughts. Why are you still then? I grip my lip, trying hard not to scream. Turning, I leave the room, unfit to have one last glimpse at them sitting as if just staying for something staying for me to change, staying for me to be someone I am not. The door slams shut behind me, and I'm in a long hall. The floor creaks under my feet; for a moment, everything feels off. The house is cold, as if holding its breath, staying for something. Or someone. Not relatively what I had anticipated. also something pulls me back. A soft whisper, nearly the voice inside my head. " Do not forget who you are," it says." Do not forget what you've lost." I indurate. My heart is contending as I spin around, but the hallway is empty. " Who is there?" I call out, my voice shaking. Silence. I shake my head. It had to be the wind, or perhaps my mind is just playing tricks on me. But I do not feel alone. Something's out then. Something's. wrong. I turn back into the hallway, the darkness wrapping around me like a shroud. Just as I take one step forward, I hear it again. A whisper, louder this time. Clearer. " Do not forget who you are." My heart skips a beat. And also — I hear the door behind me creak open. I turn sluggishly, dreading what I might see. " Sebastian?" Reginald's voice calls from the study, but it's. different. It's too calm. Too controlled. I swallow hard, my throat tight. I've no idea what's going on, but one thing is for sure I'm not alone then. Not in this house. Not in this city. And whatever it's out there watching me? I am not so sure I want to find out.