JONES RESIDENCE
1296 Words
The knock came again,sharper this time. Claire blinked at the ceiling, heart still racing from the nightmare. For a moment, she didn’t move. But then she pushed herself out of bed and dragged her feet to the door. It was Cecelia.
“You overslept? Planning to skip breakfast too?” Her tone was laced with annoyance, but her eyes flickered when they met Claire’s pale face and messy hair.
Claire didn’t say anything. She just stared at Cecelia.m with a blank expression.Then she began to close the door.
“Wait,” Cecelia said, her voice softening slightly. “If you’re not okay, maybe go see a doctor. Or… talk to someone. I don’t really care what’s going on with you, but you’re still my sister. So, I guess… you have to be alive, at least.”
And just like that, she turned and walked away, leaving Claire standing in the doorway.
The words were harsh, but they stuck. Cecelia didn’t pretend to love her, didn’t hide the fact she’d picked up every cruel habit Olivia had. But… maybe, in her own twisted way, she cared. A little.
Claire sighed and went back inside, forcing herself to move faster. She threw on clothes, tied her hair into something half-decent. No way was she giving Olivia another reason to lash out. Not today.
The nightmare still clung to her like a second skin—Sebastian’s eyes, when they were bloodshot, came back at her. Was she really safe here? It would be so easy for Olivia to get rid of her anytime she pleased. Should she have listened to Sebastian? She couldn't afford to regret any decision yet. It was too early.
She shoved the memory down as she sat through breakfast. Olivia didn’t say a word. Claire ate quickly, keeping her eyes on her plate.
As soon as she stepped outside, the crisp morning air hit her like a wave of relief. And then, a familiar deep blue Porsche pulled up in front of her. Her heart jumped.
Before the car had fully stopped, she was already moving. She ran without thinking, her breath catching as she reached the door and slipped inside.
The moment she sat down beside him, she turned, her voice laced with fear. “I had a dream. You died, Sebastian. It was Olivia, she tried to…”
He leaned in, brows furrowed. “Claire…”
“It felt real,” she whispered. “It felt real.”
Sebastian held her gaze for a long moment. Then a slow, teasing smile spread across his lips. “Look at you, Claire. Were you that scared of losing me? Will you consider marrying me now?
She let out a shaky breath, trying to hide her smile. “I’m serious.”
“I know,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I'm not going anywhere Claire, we still have a case to solve, remember?”
Her heart fluttered. She thought back to her dream again how he had rushed to help her and realized he was her only confidant. She felt a sudden warmth spread through her.
She quickly composed herself and gave the address in her small hand bag to Sebastian. They didn't talk much.
After about an hour on the road, they finally arrived at the Jones Residence. The house stood quietly behind a rusting iron gate, its silence nearly as loud as the wind rustling through the dry leaves scattered across the compound. A few patches of grass sprouted defiantly along the fence, and tall trees encircled the property like silent sentinels, their branches casting long, shifting shadows on the weathered exterior.
The house itself bore the weight of time. Its paint was faded and peeling, dull against the contrast of nature’s reclaim. Yet, despite the aged appearance, the grounds were strangely tidy—too tidy, almost as though someone had maintained it just enough to keep it from falling into complete disrepair. The air carried the scent of dry leaves mingled with an unexpected softness—a subtle, pleasant fragrance wafting from inside the building, stirring a mixture of curiosity and unease.
Sebastian glanced sideways at Claire, observing the determined set of her jaw, the way her eyes scanned every corner like she was preparing for battle.
“Humph,” he thought with a slight smirk. That look again. Leaning closer, his breath warm against her ear, he murmured, “Take it easy.”
Claire didn’t respond. She didn’t even glance at him. Instead, she marched toward the gate with a single-mindedness that made Sebastian chuckle under his breath.
Overgrown with climbing ivy and rusted from years of exposure, the short gate stood firm. Claire pushed against it with all her might, but it barely budged. She stepped back, inhaled deeply, and launched another attempt, this time grunting softly with the effort. The sound of strained metal and shuffling leaves accompanied her struggle.
Meanwhile, Sebastian stood there, arms crossed, looking highly entertained.
Claire paused, catching the amused glint in his eyes. Her jaw tightened.
“This guy has the wrongest reaction to every situation,” she thought bitterly.
“Don’t just stand there,” she snapped. “Do something!”
“Okay,” he said casually, as though he’d just been waiting for her to ask. He strode over, taller and more relaxed than ever, and peered over the gate. From his vantage point, he spotted a lock on the other side. Something Claire wouldn’t have seen from her angle because she was a head shorter, even though o she was on heels.
With an almost insulting ease, Sebastian reached over, flipped the latch, and gave the gate a light push. It swung open with a quiet creak, a far cry from the battle Claire had just waged.
She stared at him, part-annoyed, part-impressed.
Together, they walked through the gate, leaving the driver parked a few meters away behind the line of trees. The property was quiet—eerily so. As they ventured further in, something felt… off.
They circled the perimeter, trying to find the main entrance, but nothing looked quite right. No clear front door. No porch. No steps.
Claire stopped suddenly, a strange flicker passing through her eyes.
“Wait a minute…” she said, glancing around. “This place… it’s built similarly to the Harry Manor.”
Sebastian turned to her. “It is?”
“Yes,” she replied, her voice thoughtful. “But it’s more complicated.”
She stepped back, pointing toward the side of the building. “The entrance wouldn’t be at the front. It would be from the side—just like in the Manor. Then there’s a narrow passage that leads you to the actual front door, which would be on the opposite end of where we’re standing now. The main parlour is always closed off from the rest of the house. No open space. No staircase. In Harry Manor, there’s no traditional staircase either—just a private elevator that takes you to the next room.”
Her eyes scanned the structure again. “From the outside, it looks like a simple layout… but once you’ve lived in it, you realize the whole building is shaped like a ‘J’.”
Sebastian followed her gaze, clearly intrigued now.
But Claire was growing quieter. Inside her mind, something stirred.
If the Jones Residence and the Harry Manor share the same design… could it mean they were built by the same people?
Was Harry Manor originally a Jones property?
A chill ran down her spine.
But wasn't Jones her mother’s family?
More questions flooded in, each one more unsettling than the last.
She didn’t know if she would find answers here. But she has to start from somewhere.
- Writer
