W.a.R
Copyright© 2025 by Auronomi
Chapter 4
I stood outside Rowan’s home, captivated. I’d seen pictures, but they didn’t compare to the real thing. Rowan and I never visited each other’s new homes; it was important to him that we met on neutral ground, somewhere that reminded us of where we came from.
Now I understood why.
I watched him change over the years — more spoiled, further removed from what it meant to struggle, whilst I lived the true reality of that life. It was almost poetic: once we were both lower-middle-class children, having the little things in life that less fortunate children perhaps couldn’t afford, like a game system or nice clothing, and then fate decided that when we grew up, he’d have the opportunity to live life heavenly while I was meant to be smothered by it.
The mansion was guarded by a high stone wall and an iron security gate. A straight road ran from the gate, flanked by rows of towering fir trees that led halfway toward a roundabout encircling a fountain. Six white pillars held up the front façade of the mansion, and sitting on top, a wide balcony jutted out from the fifth story, overlooking the drive. I always knew my brother was rich, but it never felt real until now.
Jealousy knotted my emotions.
He told me about a place where he would climb the wall.
Avoiding the camera-heavy front, I circled the property, scanning for the scuff marks he mentioned. My pulse quickened — breaking into his home was reckless, but what other choice did I have? He wouldn’t answer his phone, and after burning my own house down ... Who knew if anyone was looking for me?
I found the markings, climbed the wall, and dropped down on the other side. Locks of hair fell into my face when I landed — irritating. I twisted it into a bun and ducked behind a tree. The yard was massive— is this even considered a yard? Checking my phone again, I seen no new messages. It was 9 a.m. A sudden slam drew my attention to the right. Two black SUVs idled in the roundabout as Rowan’s foster parents climbed inside. They looked nice, respectable and perhaps a bit scary as they were filthy rich. They must have pulled in just after I got over the wall. Perfect timing.
To my left, something glinted — is that a bar and an underground pool!?
Now wasn’t the time for jealousy. Several tall windows seemed to watch me as I sprinted towards the back patio. Peeking around the corner, I found a large rectangular window framing a perfect view of a breakfast spread.
My stomach growled — I hadn’t eaten since my life flipped upside-down ... again.
The place seemed empty, though someone must have prepared that food.
June ... Hope she’s still on the road...
Crouching under the window, I tried the patio door. *Click*. Apparently, high security wasn’t a priority within the walls.
Inside, my eyes kept darting toward the food. The silence was deep — almost too deep. Rowan wasn’t here, if he was he’d be eating this food. My fingers traced the gold swirls etched into the marble, so this was what wealth felt like. On instinct, I devoured the spread of French toast and strawberries until the hunger eased. Five minutes passed before paranoia crept in. Whoever made this should have walked in by now. Right? Still, I figured once I explained who I was, they’d be fine with me staying until Rowan showed up. Even if they didn’t know he had a sister.
It was a game of chance.
Through an archway, I glimpsed the grand entrance. A long table lined with ornate décor ran parallel to a massive skylight, ending just before the front door. Sunlight spilled down like it was blessing the space. It reminded me of the summer Mom took us to the lake. Rowan and I had waded too far, too deep and slipped into a sudden drop-off. The sunlight fractured above us as we sank, scattering into rays that reached down into the dark. I remembered that moment vividly, it felt like time stopped and we were in another world. I wasn’t scared, but fascinated, as the sparkles of light shimmered on the ceiling of water. That was the day I learned Rowan could swim. He saved me. But did I really want saving?
The mansion felt cold compared to the heat outside — their electric bill had to be obscene.
Stepping into the entrance hall, I scanned the table. I didn’t know what half of the objects were, but they were beautiful, gleaming in the light. On the wall, one framed photograph caught my attention: Rowan and his parents, taken five years ago at the group fostering facility. We were twelve. He was adopted two months in. I stayed for nine months more, alone. When we turned thirteen, we were already living different lives. The other kids hated me for my hazel eyes and bright auburn hair — said they’d get me adopted first. I wasn’t adopted first, but they were right that I left quickly. Who knows if they left.
I did them a favor, the way I seen it.
A prickle ran down my spine. My new senses picked up the faintest shift in the air. I spinned — too late. A cloth clamped over my mouth and nose, while another hand pressed against my lower back. The chemical sting hit instantly. I thrashed, but my limbs were weakened, vision blurring, thoughts scattered.
Darkness
When I woke up, my back ached, and my wrists and ankles were bound. I was being jostled by bumps in the road. I licked my dry lips, somehow they tasted sort of sweet. I drifted in and out of sleep, catching faint voices I couldn’t make out. Through a small window I could see the silhouettes of a couple of heads moving, but I was still too drugged to focus my senses.
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