Chelsea's POV
As expected, it was just like I thought it was. They were all discussing me and my family in full motion.
[Good riddance. She has always been so arrogant and proud. Just because her family is a little richer than us, she acts as though she owns the world. Whatever happens to her is none of my business.] Someone typed.
I recognized her. She was one of the girls I went shopping with the most time. And I could recall that five out of ten times, I had paid her expenses.
But now, I was arrogant.
Someone else typed in reply, [But really, didn't Chelsea help introduce your dad to hers when he needed some help back then? Why are you throwing shade at her now?]
As I read this message, I also piped up to look at it. Right. Was I such a bad person?
I wasn't blowing my trumpet. But I could vouch that I wasn't disdainful. I wouldn't stand by while anyone was in danger. So, why was I receiving so much hatred?
Immediately, the girl typed back, [So what? Just because her parents helped us, I had to be thankful and show gratitude all this time. Even if I wasn't happy, I would swallow it because she had done us a favor.]
My expression immediately soured when I read this. When I introduced our families, I was expecting nothing in return. I didn't expect her to be grateful to me for all her life. I didn't put hope that she had to withstand anything I threw at her.
So, why did she have such a misconception about me?
In the end, I could no longer look at the messages. My heartfelt stuffy and even the hand holding the phone was heavy. My eyes burned with tears as I lay quietly on the bed.
I just realized something. I could still see their messages because I wasn't removed from the group. They knew I was there. Yet, they said such words.
It only intensified my conclusions that they didn't give a fuck whatever happened to me.
In the end, I could no longer stand it and switched off the phone. Then, I placed it back on the bedside table.
I laid back in bed wrapped under the covers. And, tears flowed out of my eyes from time to time.
But, this time it wasn't hard to fall asleep. I soon dozed off to sleep in no time.
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The next morning was a Sunday. On days like this, we usually did a clean-up of the surroundings. It was sanitation day for us.
So, we were all busy cleaning up. Although it was a new home, we just moved in after all. There were still a lot of things to do. The apartment had an attic and surprisingly, there were a lot of things stacked in it.
From boxes to chairs, there were a lot of things in there. There was even a small bed there although it was all dusty and cobwebs decorated the place in their strands of silk.
And to my utmost surprise and delight, there was a bookshelf in the attic. I wasn't expecting it. It turned out that like me, Grans was an avid reader too. She had a lot of books on her shelves.
Some of them were of recent editions since it had only been a few years since she died. Pride and prejudice for example. There was also a copy of Charles Dickens's A Christmas Carol and some of Charlotte Brontë. There were countless books on the shelf and I couldn't check them out at once.
So instead, I rushed downstairs for a feather duster and stood in front of them, and began to dust them one after the other. When I reached the top that I could not reach myself, I called Jasper for help.
He was disgruntled as he was quite busy himself. But, he still came over to help. He had mixed expressions on his face as he looked at the rows of books arranged there as though he could not understand what took my interest.
Jasper hadn't been a fan of reading books. And, it was more since he was in the sciences and I was in the arts. So, he probably could not relate when he had dozens of practicals to study, I guess?
I wasn't sure. All I knew was they studied quite a handful of practical studies since he wouldn't stop mentioning it.
I could not relate too.
After a few hours, we were done with the cleaning. At least, it was neat enough to be called an attic.
Everyone had gone downstairs to shower. But, I hadn't. I was having a hard time picking books to read. Most of the books granny had were quite old books.
Most of them were grey and even becoming yellowish. The letters on them were also fading out slowly and they were sticking together.
But regardless, the thrill did not decrease. The smell of paper. The smell of old books. For an avid reader like me, it was simply paradise.
After some time, one finally caught my eye. It wasn't exactly special. But, the title caught my eye.
As I lifted a finger to pull out the book by its spine, I read the name out loud. "The Book Of Werewolves."
I had read a lot of books based on werewolf fantasy including romance and fantasy genres. It was mostly on ebook platforms.
But, this intrigued me more because it was old. Very old. The papers were yellowish and beginning to fade out. It seemed more non-fiction and the thought that there could be more information on werewolves in the book interested her.
Not the kind of information passed down from generation to generation to the point mere human deductions were beginning to take over the truths. I wanted history.
Immediately, I took the book. However as I pulled it out, something fell down the shelf. I looked at the floor to see what it was.
It was a necklace.
Puzzled for a moment, I looked at it curiously before squatting down and reaching out to pick it up. There was dust on the necklace but I could still make out the shape.
I dusted it off and looked at it closer. The necklace had a tiny black string and at the end of the rope, there was a moon-shaped pendant hanging on it.
I placed it on my palm to look closer at the pendant. And, I was completely awed.