Chapter 38: The Emory History
He walks over to the fireplace and stares at the flame with a faraway look in his eyes.
"I was born in this very room in the year 1868." He turns his head so he can look me in the eyes and I can actually feel his anger. "Twenty years later, I also died here."
His tone immediately changes my mood. I look away, hoping he doesn't suspect I'm starting to freak out again. I need to keep my head clear even though I'm asleep.
This is crazy.
"You do understand that you must keep me a secret?" His eyes glow slightly, as if revealing the severity of his request.
"Of course. There are lots of rumors but nobody would believe me anyway," I say, trying to take breaths between my words.
He notices and narrows his eyes.
"Is there something you are not telling me?"
If this is a dream it's insane how real this feels. I can smell the wax dripping from the candles and hear his voice echo in the room.