What The Hell Is In My Attic Chapter 3

I grabbed the knob from the ceiling and pulled down, a ladder fell down and I looked at Ahren nervously. He smiled at me reassuringly.

"You go first. As soon I see you up there the bet is halfway won, and then I'll join you."

I nodded and started climbing up. Once I was up, I tried turning the lights on but to my dismay the light that emerged was so weak it barely made a difference. I looked around. The place was filled with old furniture and a huge bookshelf that contained photo-albums with childhood images and a bunch of pictures of my father and his old friends. My mother wasn't in any of the photo-albums. My father said she died giving birth to me. I always wished to see her, at least once. I looked back and saw Ahren climbing up. He looked around curiously.

"Wow, this really isn't what I imagined."

I chuckled and he grabbed one of the photo-albums. I watched him. He was flipping through it and he looked confused. I had a feeling it was about my mother but I guess he didn't want to hit a sensitive nerve. However, I didn't mind.

"She died when I was born."
"Oh."
He put the album back and turned around, facing me.

"There are no photos of her at all?" I looked down and shrugged.
"Not that I'm aware of." He suddenly put his hand on my shoulder. Again, his touch felt electric and my stomach turned.
"How about we try to find something fucked up now, huh?" He nodded and started looking around the boxes of my old school material.

I suddenly saw a tiny crack in the wall. When I looked at it more thoroughly I noticed that the wall was in fact hollow and there was something in it. I wasn't sure if I should investigate it. I mean, first of all, my father would absolutely murder me. Second of all...I realised there isn't a second of all. I realised I couldn't care less about my father. He probably wouldn't even come up here and the curiosity is really killing the cat right now. To hell with it. I grabbed a Yellow Pages and started hitting the crack in the wall, making it larger. Ahren ran over to me.

"What the fuck are you doing?"
"It's hollow, there's something in there."

Ahren stood back as I slid my hand through the widened crack and pulled out the item. It was a book. Medium sized leather with a silk ribbon around it. Crimson. Ahren looked at me, partly shocked I found something, partly sad he had to pay 30 bucks and partly intrigued in the new found item in my hands.

"What is it?" he asked. I sat down on the floor and he joined me. I opened the book started reading the first page.

"It's a diary."

June 18 1990

As I write this, a man walks this world, unaware of his role. The things that were witnessed can never be unseen and hidden for too long. Writing a note such as this may be dangerous but I am willing to live in fear for this letter to get out. I grew up in a little village in Solvang, California. The town came to be full of secrecy although what, I was not allowed to tell. So today, June 18, I will write of the infamous secret of the Reid family. A case that was never

The sentence ended. The rest of the paper smeared with blood. Crimson. I took a deep breath, terror was taking over my mind and my body.

"Are you okay, Quin?"

Ahren gently placed his hand on my shoulder, I would have probably read further into it, had I not been as shaken up as I was. June 18th 1990. I was panting. My pulse had increased significantly. I wouldn't be surprised if I'd pass out as a result of the rapid breathing.

"Quin, really, you're stressing me out here." Ahren gripped my shoulders and started shaking me, slowly snapping me back into reality.
"Take a deep breath." His voice was calm and relaxing.

I'm surprised he even has a calm side to him. I wanted to make a joke about that but for the time being, I did as he said. I took a few breaths. I even closed my eyes for the dramatic effect. In the silence of my thoughts, and surroundings, I noticed that he still had his hands on my shoulder. Much looser than before, but they're really just there. Supportive. I opened my eyes again. He's sitting in front of me, looking at me...no, staring at me.

I gave him a reassuring smile and he sighed in relief.

"Man, you really had me thinking you were dying of some attack or something. Don't mess with my head like that." He groaned. I looked down nervously.
"I won't. I'm sorry."
"What was that all about? What was in the diary?"

June 18th 1990. That was all that came to my mind. Rather, that was all that occupied my mind. I shook my head and laughed it off.

"Really, it's nothing. Don't mind it. We should go back to studying."

Ahren furrowed his eyebrows. He probably sensed something was wrong. I'm just grateful he didn't bring it up. He just stood up and nodded.

"Yeah, you're probably right. Miss Sinclair will kill us if we don't finish this shit in time."

I stood up and nodded. Ahren started walking towards the latter. I took this opportunity to quickly grab the diary and shove it into my jeans pocket.

When Ahren left that night it was all smiles and see-you-at-shool-s. But whereas he went back home, and didn't think about the attic for a split second, I went straight to my room and took it all in. I sat on the edge of my bed, diary at hand. June 18th 1990. The exact date my grandfather died. Of a heart attack. I took a deep breath and shook my head. No, not a heart attack. Something else. But not a heart attack. A heart attack doesn't smear blood all over paper. A heart attack doesn't need to be hidden in a wall crack in an attic.