I decided to add some more to this. I suggest you read the first one before you read this. Thanks to the people who convince me to keep writing this. Also, this is in Chris’s point of view.
****
The birds chirped outside as the sun slowly begin to rise in horizon. Leaves fell gently to the ground as the breeze blew through the trees. Everything looked so peaceful looking out my window.
Too bad life really couldn’t be that way.
I sat up in my bed and stretched. My back popped when I reached up too high. I stood up and started pulling on a pair of pants when someone knocked on my door.
“Who is it?” I yelled, trying to pull up my pants.
“It’s me. Ella.”
I stopped still. “What do you want Ella?"
“I can’t find Mya.”
I tried sorting out my thoughts. Every morning, Mr. and Mrs. Swan made Mya cook breakfast around seven. Mya would always wake up an hour before and get ready. Then, before she would go downstairs, she would wake Ella up.
“What time is it?” I asked, grabbing a shirt.
“Seven thirty,” she said, her voice sounding small.
I walked over and opened the door. Ella stood there, tears rolling down her face.
“Uncle Edward is about to find out,” she said. “He always comes down stairs around now.”
“Where could she be?” I asked.
“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking you. Why else do you think I would be asking you? I thought she might have been with you or something. I mean…” Her words suddenly rushed out as the tears came faster. “You’re supposed to know this stuff, not me. I’m just eight years old for crying out loud…”
“Hey, hey, shush,” I said, bending down to her height. “Don’t worry. We’ll find Mya, okay?”
“Okay,” Ella replied, shaking. I pulled her into a hug, then quickly let go.
“Now let’s go look for her.” I smiled, standing up. She smiled too. Mya always said that my smiles were contagious.
I took Ella’s hand and left the small house that I lived in. I’ve been living in there every since my mom died and my low-life dad left me with this…this…monster.
There was only one good thing from working for Edward Swan.
Mya.
I remembered the first time I ever met her.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said after I had run into her by accident. She was carrying a load of wet clothes in a wicker basket; her hair looked like she had accidently got wet with the washing water.
“It’s okay,” she said, smiling. She looked beautiful, and her eyes as well as her mouth. Not many people truly smiled like that. “I’m used to it.”
“What?” I said, stopping her from walking anywhere. “You’re used to it? You’re used to people running into you?”
“Well, kinda. It’s no big deal,” she said.
“It is a big idea if they do that to you. It’s wrong.”
“What’s your name?” she asked. “I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”
“My name is Christopher Longton. I’m new here.”
“Well Chris, I suggest you watch out. You never know what’s going to happen.”
I was confused for a while for what she meant, but then one of the other workers explained to me what was going on.
“Mya and Ella are Edward Swan’s nieces. His brother Jasper was murdered along with his wife. Mya and Ella had nowhere else to go.”
“Just like your typical orphan story, right?” I said, trying to absorb all that he just said.
“Yes, but it’s tragic in a way. Mr. Swan abuses Mya all the time. He’ll hit her if his eggs weren’t cook good enough or if it was raining. He would make up any excuse to hurt her,” the worker said, looking off into the distance.
“Why though?”
“Some say it’s because she deserves it. I say it’s because Mr. Swan was jealous of his brother. He can’t take out his anger on his brother anymore, so he takes it out on his daughter.”
“Chris!”
“What?” I said, startled.
“Sorry,” Ella grinned, sheepishly. “Concentrate, okay? Don’t try going off into dream world. We have to find Mya.”
“I know, I know,” I said.
“Ella Brown! Mya Brown! Where are you!?” I heard Mrs. Swan yell from back at the main house.
“You better go,” I whispered to her. “You don’t need to get in trouble.”
“But what about Mya?” she whispered too.
“I’ll keep on looking for her. I promise,” I said, and pushed her off towards the main house.
I went into the woods and followed an old trail that led to the lake. Mya swore that the trail was made my Indians that used to live around here, but I never believed her.
I looked down and saw a foot prints in the dirt. “Those are about the same size as Mya’s feet,” I whispered to myself.
I followed the foot prints down the trail until I reached an old, rotting barn. The door was slightly open, leaving a creepy aura around it.
“Mya!” I yelled out, but there was no response. The foot prints led straight to the door of the barn.
Even though it scared me a bit, I started walking towards it.
I don’t think you want to do that.
“What?” I yelled out. The voice stayed silent, but I know who said it.
Mya.
I kept on following the foot prints, despite of the strange warning. Yet, as I got closer, an eerie chill swept over me.
I reached the door and took a deep breath.
You’ll regret it.
I shudder from Mya’s deathly tone and open the door.
There, a body was lying on the rotting planks. A dark liquid was surrounding the body, and the person’s dark hair was spread out, covering most of the holes in the floor. A knife stuck out of the person’s chest.
“No, no,” I whispered to myself as I stood in the doorway. I couldn’t bring to walk closer, to see the person’s face.
I told you.
I stepped forward, one step at a time, until I could see the person’s face.
Then, I crumpled to the ground, sobbing.
It was Mya.
