Chapter 1: Inheritance

Erika took out the keys, and unlocked the street door. The darkened house loomed against the grayish sky. She felt like intruder, and there was a good reason for that. She had never visited Aunt Abigail, actually, she barely knew her. Moreover, she didn't even find the time to attend the funeral. Abigail died three weeks ago, leaving the house to her niece. At first, Erika thought it was a joke but it wasn't. She owned the house now, and this fact made her feel great. There was no point living in the miserable basement flat anymore.

Erika got in and turned the lights on. The feeble light illuminated a long corridor leading to a spacious living room. Old furniture and a musty odor everywhere. The kitchen looked a little better. The faint smell of cookies still lingered there. She looked around the old-fashioned bathroom, then climbed the winding wooden staircase which was leading to two unfurnished bedrooms. A nauseous reek was coming from the left one. Erika decided that a mouse or maybe a rat had died somewhere. Pinching her nose, she opened the window, then hurried down the stairs. As she was walking toward the living room, her eyes caught a movement to the right. Startled, she flinched and stepped back. An old chipped mirror was hanging on the wall. Her own mirrored image had startled her. Erika wondered why her face looked so pale, then ran fingers through her long black hair and made for the front door. As she was locking it, she saw a message stuck on the doorjamb. It read "DO NOT COME BACK!".

"What the hell is this," Erika muttered and looked around.

The yard was empty except for a shabby cat that scuttled away. The sick joke of a teenager, she thought, then sighed and left.

A couple of days later Erika started bringing her things along and cleaning the house. Luckily, the stink upstairs was gone so she arranged her bedroom there. She was working as a librarian and didn't have much time. On account of that, the cleaning took more than a week. Finally, she moved into the house. On that day, some of her friends dropped in to see her. The party lasted long after midnight. After that, Erika slept in the house for the first time.

In the morning, Erika opened her eyes and for a second couldn't determine where she was. Then the truth dawned on her and she smiled contentedly. She had her own place now due to her aunt's death. It was well past 8 so she sat up in bed. Her temples started to throb, reminding her of the party, and that she had drunk a little bit too much. After putting a short skirt and a beige blouse on, she hurried barefooted out of the bedroom. There wasn't much time for the routine coffee and shower before going to the library.

Erika took her first step down the winding staircase when she felt something sleek under her left foot. She slipped. In a second, she landed on her posterior, and then made a summersault down the stairs. The tumble stopped at the middle of the stairs. All happened so fast that Erika hadn't time to react or even give out a cry. She sat up, looked dizzily around, then checked if she was hurt. Her elbow was chafed, and her left ankle was throbbing persistently. Erika mumbled something that should not be mentioned here, stood up and hobbled cautiously down, propping herself on the rail. Down in the living room, she sat in an armchair, and examined her ankle more closely. There was no swelling or a bruising. Despite that, it hurt when she moved it. After taking a shower and disinfecting her bruised elbow, Erika prepared to leave. Then, an anxious thought prodded her to go upstairs. The place where she had slipped looked oily. She touched it with her forefinger. Something greasy. Although she was late, she wiped it off before leaving.