Blood is thicker than water

Chapter 25

Adelina POV:

Sleep never arrives when I need it to. When I accept that I finally have to see the demon of my slumber instead of being whisked away by intoxication, sleep fails to arrive. Or it does come, but sporadic with hour and a half intervals. It was one of those nights where I was truly left alone and numb. 

Where I am not able to fear a faceless monster nor feal the presence of the others. It's when the world feels unmoving, it's when time seems slowed. 

It's a dangerous period of time where I lack care. I roamed around the house wishing I was scared, wishing I would find the motivation to be more sly. I was wishing it would have troubled me if I were to be caught. I wasn't, but I couldn't bother feeling relieved about that either. 

I had a good day but things tend to come crashing down after that. There are no good days with happy endings for me. If I enjoy the day, the night will wreak havoc on me.

I never went back upstairs yesterday night. Every time my body needed a moment of rest I would find a couch somewhere nearby. I could sleep for no longer than thirty minutes at a time according to the clocks that seemed to be everywhere I turned. 

I don't know if I was looking for something but I took my time observing the house. 

 I dragged my feet as I wandered down dark hallways. The walls all started to look the same, the twists and turns were practically impossible to see.

After leaving the kitchen, the first place I ended up was the art room. It's open to everyone meaning there isn't any clear intruction about who is allowed inside and not. However, it's unspoken that the room and it's contents belong to Raffaele.

Curiosity ate away at me for everything I didn't quite understand yet, so it's only fitting that my subconscious would have led me there first. 

Stepping into the room felt serene in itself. Raffaele is calm and quiet in general and that room embodys him and  his personality. The walls are plain white, something I hadn't acknowledged the first time I had been there, and a single canvas and easel stood in the middle of the room. Windows adorned the wall I was facing leaving way for the darkness to leak in. 

It seemed I couldn't escape it. 

As I turned my head to the side, it became easy to notice the multiple canvases that were leaning onto each other and the wall. I spotted strokes of blue peaking out from behind another painting and found it as my opportunity to catch more than a quick glimpse at the work I barely got to see. 

I carefully shuffled it out from between another and focused the most I could, trying to see what I hadn't before. But I couldn't. Mountains and a sunset. Nothing more and nothing less. 

I don't know how long I had worked my brain over it. I couldn't understand and that's what disturbed me. Eventually I had given up on that particular piece but refused to move on. The next one I pulled was one that depicted seven phases of the moon painted with either blue, pink or purple. I pulled out piece after piece and observed them each countless times with fail. 

I figured if I took a step back maybe I would see. So that's exactly what I did. I stood up and took a couple steps back. It immediately became very clear and the understanding I was craving washed over me like a bucket of ice water. 

It was an untimely reveal of a secret. Something I had no buisness knowing but I couldn't let go. From everything that's happened, secrets are nothing good. Secrets hurt me, and in this house they live in floors. 

 I frantically placed them back as I found them the best I could. They all had one thing in common. I suddenly understood the panic that was showcased so clearly in his eyes.