A journey to trust

It had been ages since a family resided in that mansion. From what I remember, the Brown family lived there around ten years ago, but on a terrifying day, one of Mr. Brown's brothers murdered him. This incident scared away potential tenants, which is why no one preferred staying there—until today.

I was standing on our balcony when I saw a family moving into the residence. They were an old couple, a middle-aged man, and a young teenager around my age. I was watching them when suddenly, the old lady's eyes diverted towards me. Her eyes had an eerie glow that propelled me into deep thoughts.

The next day, when I was passing by the house, I saw the man digging in the garden. He had a trash bag, but I was concerned. Who buries a trash bag in the garden? Is that a trash bag, or is it a grave? Maybe I was overthinking, but the man's stern, straight face, drawn eyebrows, and narrowed eyes indicated something wrong or potentially illegal. I needed to find out what was in that bag.

As I was trying to figure it out, he sensed my presence, quickly lifted his head, and stared into my soul. He rested his shovel on his sturdy shoulder, gripping it with one hand, and walked towards me. The sound of his footsteps echoed in the silence. He stopped directly in front of me, looking down into my eyes. At that moment, a chill ran down my spine, and my body trembled. I took a step back.

In a deep, rumbling voice, he threatened me, "Stop meddling in our affairs, or you'll be in trouble." His commanding words galvanized me into leaving that place.
I left, but my mind was stuck there. I was intrigued by this family and soon realized that the key to knowing them was the teenager. To truly know someone, you need to walk a mile in their shoes. I started to work on my illicit plan: stalking.

It was difficult to say if the family was extraordinary or my curiosity was. I followed the teenager on his bike throughout the day but was perplexed by his routine. The boy didn't utter a word or have a conversation; he was lost in looking at a diary. He didn't even realize that someone was following him and was oblivious to the world surrounding him. He was living an unusual life.

It was enough to convince me that the boy would refuse to talk to me, but maybe I could impress him. I noticed that the boy was invested in basketball.
The next day I was ready with basketball in my hand waiting for him to arrive as dead teenager walk in ,my eyes relaxed and a smirk spread across my face as a realised my plan was going to succeed when I saw the boy in a basketball Jersey he was walking in with diary in his hand and a bar of chocolate in other he came and said on bench as usual he stared at me while I played which I was fully awared of an in response ostentatiously try to flaunt my basketball skills by making easy shorts look difficult still he didn't seem to initiate a conversation so I bounced ball rhythmically and slowly move towards him and asked him "what do you like to join me actually I need to prepare and my partner is ill"not so surprisingly agreed his eyes had determine look and a glow just like his grandparents he pulled hood from his head and rolled his sleeves showing he was resolute and ready to play I passed ball to him and he started to bounce it moving towards hoop and game continued until sweat poured of me and I was exhausted as never before an eventually decided to give up as I fell on ground taking deep breaths he was spinning ball on his finger seeing me drop out he asked me "enough?"I I nodded but instead of going he was tell standing there looked like he was waiting for a conversation to begin I saw my golden chance and asked him "would you like to walk together till home"he agreed "sure"and passed me a water bottle as I took a sip of it he gathered all of his stuff and we walked down to dark lonely Streets "I forgot to ask your name" I said"it's hazel"she replied looking towards me "haze--I've never heard of a boy named hazel"I stammered being confused "who said I am a boy?"she said fiercely "you looked like--""No I am not"the conversation made the atmosphere awkward and Awry to make it go easy I tried to change the topic
"Is that middle-aged man your father"
"No he is my uncle,my parents live abroad;we
reached" I didn't got any chance today so asked her If she would like to join me tomorrow for basketball practice she wagged her head in agreement and smiled warmly filled with enthusiasm this time when I reached there she was already waiting there we practice until the light slowly disappeared and night cover city with it's dark cloak we set on bench resting for a while and she suddenly gave peculiar advice"you should be careful of sharp things"it is strange to hear this from someon arbitrarilyly I tried to question her but she dodged every question and left i sat there for a while trying to figure out why she said that, surprisingly on next morning I suddenly hurted my finger with a knife it was a very deep wound that we needed to visit hospital...for bandaging Hazel’s strange advice echoed in my mind, and I wondered if it was merely a coincidence.

Days passed, and I couldn’t find Hazel anywhere. Worried, I decided to visit the mansion. As I knocked on the massive ,vintage door the sound eoched in silence of night and The old lady answered the door, her eyes still holding that eerie glow.

“Hazel isn’t here,” she said curtly. “Leave us alone.”