The Mortician's Daughter

This is an actual book I'm writing and hope to get published someday :) Check back everyday for more chapters

Chapter 2

Little Interest

"How was your day, dear?" My father asked as we ate. "Well, it was interesting. I made some friends for the first time." I said. He raised his eyebrows in interest. "Yeah. I said the same thing. I'm finished." I said standing up. I saw my father out the corner of my eye mouthing, trying to find words to say. I took my plate to the kitchen and went up stairs to my room. My father showed little interest in my everyday life. Only to start a conversation that never lasted long.
I was quite different from my parents. I couldn't fake interest in things or conversation's. That was not my talent.
I sat there. Staring out my window at the still New Jersey night. A few cars passed by. The still night air was filled with the sound of crickets singing and the soft sound of distant dogs barking. The sounds began to consume my mind. Like the sun consuming a shadow of the night.

"Annabelle. Time to get up. Your father is getting ready to leave." My mother said softly shaking me. "Okay. I'm up." I said standing up. I had forgotten that today was Saturday so I was going with my father to work. How joyful this would be.
I grabbed my book bag and went down stairs. "Let's get this over with." I said walking threw the living room without stopping at out the door to the car. "Someone's a little grumpy this morning." My father said getting in the car. I sighed.
I sat watching my father as he finished his work before I started mine. "Okay. Now that I'm done, I have to go fill out some paper work. Do you want to walk with me or stay here?" He asked. "Nope. I'll stay here and do her make-up and you can come get me when your finished." I said. "Okay. I won't be long." He replied and started for the door. I nodded as he walked out. I got the make-up and walked over to the girl lying on the table with the light shining on her face. Her face looked rested as if she were just asleep. She looked to be in her twenties. Too young to be here. "This should bother me with all the awful memories I have." I said as if she were listening. "But it hasn't bothered me yet. I guess I'm just weird like that." I continued as I applied her eyeshadow. "Your not weird. Trust me." A male voice said. I turned around to see a boy. His hair was short, spiked and dark. "I. Didn't. Know anyone was here." I said. "I just got here." He replied. "I'm Evan DeFlay." He continued, holding his hand out. "I'm Annabelle Lahay." I said shaking his hand gently. "The new girl." He said. "Yeah. The Mortician's Daughter. I'm surprised anyone wants to be near me considering the job me and my father have." I said returning to the make-up. "People don't mind it. It's just another job here." He replied. I raised my eyebrows in a sarcastic way. "You'll get used to it here. Where do you live?" He asked. "New Jersey." I smiled jokingly. "I know that. Where at in New Jersey?" He asked with a smile. "I'm not sure what the address is. I could really care less but its the road passed the supermarket. Turn to the left on that little driveway. We live in the little white house." I explained. "Oh. I know where that's at. That's the old Johnston house. Me and my friends used to dare each other to go in that house when we were younger." He said. "Dare?" I repeated in question. "Yeah. Like I said, when we were younger. Now we'd walk in it without a second thought." He said. I looked at him and raised one eyebrow. "Then you would be walking in on me." I smiled. "We would knock first." He replied returning the warm smile. "Tell me more about the Johnston house." I said digging threw my make- up bag for the eyeliner. "I don't know a lot but ask me what you want to know and I'll give you the best answer there is." He replied. "Okay. Tell me, why did you and your friends dare each other to go in the house? Is there something spooky about it or something?" I asked with a devilish grin. "There is an old story about the house. I could tell you but you have to go to sleep in that house tonight. I would hate to freak you out." He said. "Look at what I've been doing since I was old enough to walk. Your not going to freak me out. Nothing really scares me anymore." I said applying the eyeliner to the young woman's eyes. Before he could answer, my father walked in. "You must be the funeral home owner's son?" My father asked Evan as he walked down the small flight of stairs. "Yes, Sir. Evan DeFlay." Evan said holding his hand out to my father. "Joseph Lahay." My father said shaking his hand and smiling a friendly smile. "It was nice to meet you, Mr. Lahay but I'm afraid I must go. My mother needs help in her flower garden and she requested that I should be home before its too dark to see." Evan explained. I stopped. Listening to how he spoke. I was amazed at how his words sounded so... old fashioned. It was odd. "Same here, Evan. I suppose I will see you around more since your father owns the funeral home?" My father asked. "Of course, Mr. Lahay. I'm not one to stray far from where I belong." Evan answered looking passed my father at me. He smiled a slight smile and I half smiled in return. My father turned around and I returned to applying the young woman's make- up. "I'm assuming you have met my daughter, Annabelle?" My father asked Evan. "Yes, Sir and she is a very lovely young lady." Evan answered. I snorted sarcastically. "Evan! Your mother is waiting!" I heard a male voice call from above the morgue. "It was nice to meet you both." Evan said and walked out. "That is a very nice young man isn't he?" My father asked walking over to the table while I finished the make- up. "Yeah, I guess." I said. "It seemed as though he was taking a slight interest in you, Annabelle." He replied. I laughed sarcastically. "Don't take it as a joke, Annabelle." My father scolded. "You, yourself said no boy would never want a freak like me." I reminded him. "Your not a freak, its just a stage your going through right now. You'll grow out of it." He responded. "Why can't you just accept who I am? Why can't you understand that this is who I am?" I asked getting angry. "Your not but fifteen, Anna. You haven't found who you are yet. Your journey is just starting out. You'll find who you are." He explained. I didn't answer. I was tired of fighting. I started throwing the make- up in the bag and stormed out. "Annabelle! Don't do this!" My father called after me as I stormed out and slammed the door.

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