Page 98 of Speak No Claim

Here, everyone seemed cold. The men were with the men, the women with the women, each separated in their own cliques. I wondered where their direct family was. Again, I didn’t see anyone that resembled them.

Somehow, I found my way back to the family portrait, standing by the fireplace. Something about their parents was oddly familiar. I couldn’t place where I knew them from.

Sometime during the afternoon, I got bored.

There was only so many hor d’oeuvres I could eat. After a few hours, I still hadn’t seen Onyx, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t show up in his true rebellion form, provoking his father and embarrassing his family.

Deja excused herself. I hadn’t seen her in quite some time either. Without considering the consequences, I began to wander. It’s not like anyone would notice I was gone.

Pretentious laughter echoed through the halls with elevator music playing in the background, which was another thing that was different from my family and culture. Nobody was dancing or actually celebrating. No one was truly engaging.

No stories were being told, no bonds forming, no jokes that weren’t anything other than who was keeping up with the Joneses. Everything was toned down and perfected. Not one hair out of place. Everyone fit into this role they were expected to perform.

Which felt like a ritual in itself.

It was exhausting, and I’d only spoken to Deja. Elizabeth said her family was excited to meet, and I hadn’t been introduced to anyone. It was as if they’d forgotten all about me even being there, making me gloomier than I was already feeling. I thought we were getting somewhere. I wondered if they’d even serve my food.

Did she make me cook for nothing?

The farther I ventured through the halls, the quieter it became. Their mansion went on forever. I thought about trying to find Onyx’s suite, but I was lost, in more ways than one. Every hallway led to another passage, every staircase to another wing. The rooms appeared untouched, unlived in, preserved in such a way that I knew nobody had stepped in there other than to clean in decades.

It was almost suffocating how stunning but unloved everything was. They were just rooms, no heart behind them, no souls in them, just gaudy antiques that meant more to them than actual human beings.

I rounded another corridor, slowly running my fingers along the gold paneling, trying not to think, just feel. I saw a door that was different from the others. This one was older, painted in a faded ivory that had yellowed with age.

My feet came to a complete halt. Unsure why, I immediately felt drawn to this room. Something about it was hauling me to it, whether I wanted it to or not.

I cracked it open, catching my breath. There in front of my eyes was a playroom. It wasn’t as pristine as the rest of the house. It was lived in. The shelves were filled with children’s books, their spines all cracked and faded. There were dolls, stuffed animals, blocks, and Legos. The room had color, unlike the rest of the estate. I could feel the love it once held.

It was the glass music box that captured my stare. I stepped inside, going straight for it.

My chest tightened as I caught a glimpse of a memory, maybe…

There was a woman who grabbed my wrist, softly murmuring a lullaby under her breath.

Is that their mom?

It was only then I realized I’d opened the music box. The calming harmony filled the silent space, reminding me of what Deja had just shared about her mother humming.

Is this their mother’s music box?

I shut my eyes, allowing the melody to take over.

A woman was holding me in her arms. I felt her warmth.

Then…

SNAP!

The lid on the music box slammed shut, jolting me.

Shit…

* * *

I was caught.

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