Leo dragged me outside the house, to my backyard. I never go anywhere near the backyard, because I don’t need to. In this old house, my mom’s house before she married my dad, our solitary vacation house, I never liked the backyard.

My cousins play there all the time, except for me. I hated the rough body play and all. So to me, avoiding my backyard is a habit I can’t throw away. Sure, I can stand seeing the view of it all day long but I haven’t set a foot on the garden for god knows how long.

Leo pulled my hand to a corner of the garden, a darker and more solitary, covered with a fence of bushes. There was a door on the ground, and I remembered it would lead to our old underground wine cellar. I’ve never been there—father won’t allow me in my childhood and I don’t see enough reason to go there when I live here on my own.

Hey- the padlock’s broken. How come?

Leo took the padlock off and throws it somewhere, and then he pulled on the heavy wooden door that shows us a set of staircase. He took a step to the creaky stairs, before looking up to me in this expression I’ve never seen before. It’s a mixture of guilt, sadness, pride, and I don’t know, resolve?

“Do you want me to come with you…?” I hesitantly ask, my voice definitely shaking in a state of shock and confused. He nodded, then took my hand in his gently, yet firmly as he lead me downstairs.

It was… dark. Dark and humid. And somehow, instead of the sweet aroma of wine, I can smell… rust. No, no. Not rust. Blood.

Yes. I can smell blood.