A few moons ago, there was, as long as I remember, the re-entry to school, or so they called it. This was the school Mum has always talked about, and we moved to live here next to it, as that was my father's will before he passed away. I didn't know how it was paid. Mum always said it was my uncle taking care of all of "what it had to be paid". And when I say "always", I mean the whole holidays. But seriously, did she really think I'm buying it ?! He ain't the one paying. I've always known him, and when I say "always" this time, I really do mean it. He never changed during all those 15 years. He had that duty of always being the same stingy, avaricious, niggard and tight-fisted person I used to know. 15 years, man ! The three quarters of my life ! He never visited us, after my father's death. Huh, we did. And the same talk was still hooked on those big dry lips : "I have business to take care of !", in the same tone, the same debit, the same dirty grin on his face, and with the same corner his eyes target : his children standing, the three of them. Two boys and a girl, scared and trembling, had always to stand in their emo-corner, until their father allows them to sit. Pretty old-school, huh.

The eldest and I have the same age. I can't remember what was his name, but it's impossible to forget that look full of hatred almost burning his surroundings. That hurt I could've seen so many times was an enigma to me. The same wounded gaze was printed on his sister's eyes, but her rebellious side was putting a stamp of uncare. The benjamin, a year younger than his two sister and brother, seemed still young to understand such things.

The perfect educated children, but in their father's eyes, they were just a "business" of his. They were deeply in need of the motherly love. So was that the reason why Mum used to go to their house regularly ? I never had the chance to talk about him, as that seemed to wound Mum, and to irritate Dad. And also the opportunity never availed for me to communicate with him. I guess the sharp look piercing his eyes were enough talk.

Every week, Mum used to give us the -same- black outfit for a -same- tea with them. My sister was to help Mum and accompany her in every hall she had to pass through, every corner she had to stop by, every thing she had to do.

All of those scenarios had to happen in front of me, while I was ordered to sit on that plastic chair that already put its stamp on my back. "Remember me ! Remember how you where always left here on me ! Don't you forget how they didn't allow you to sit on the comfortable couch, saying you were •dirty• ! Remember how your back was always rubbed to the hard me, trying to change slightly your position, shaking off the feeling that you were a pure burden to them ! " used to say the chair in my head. I have actually telepathy with all the objects in that haunted house, haunted by its own citizens.

I shook my head remembering a past I decided to forget since the end of fifth grade, when I moved to a high school different from the three brothers'.

I started joining slow steps consecutively slightly behind my sister's. Silence chose to be our transparent companion. Oddness joined too. All the way school, I couldn't help but watch her mid-length silky wavy red hair, wreathed with two married plaits. The cool wind was flirting with it moving each time two side locks. Her outfit consisted of a pair of dark wash slim jeans with a yellow fluorescent sweater, and purple sneakers that brings out the "Go girls !" on her sweater, written in the same color.

"Hurry up !" She grinned pulling my hand to cross the road.

The large school seemed empty, as it was still 7:00 am. We came pretty early to settle "what it had to be settled". We stood in front of it, our hands tightly intertwined. The time froze for a moment, before I could hear my sister sniffling.

" Are you crying ? " I could barely say in front of a scene we only see once a million years. Tears on my sister's cheeks were the last thing you wanna see before you could be thrown in a 300-meter-hole under the ground.

I pulled her into a hug trying to lessen the deep sobs she was taking.

"You've grown so fast", and just the grandmotherly way she pronounced made me wanna laugh, but tears escaped my eyes unexpectedly, but silently.

We cut the drama after it went a bit too compassionate, for us.

"Kyara?" She pronounced adjusting the folded top of my blouse, and lessening the grip of the tie around my col.

"Yeah", I replied as if she needed to hear it before continuing.

"You know Dad loves you, right?", oh and I didn't expect that. Without emphasizing on any word, not as usual, she drew sadness with the way she pronounced that holy name.

"You know that he is alive now, right?" She continued not bothering to wipe the moist way her previous tears took.

"Of course he is!" I comforted her grabbing her hands that were doing and undoing the buttons of my jacket for a hundred times now. "He was and will always be in our hearts. His spectra never left us." She smiled as if mine was a sigh for her to do so.

She took a deep breath and said : "Let's go!", enthusiasm glowing and flooding her retort.

As I learnt from the posters hanged in front of the cafeteria, to access any activity in this school, an ID card will be requested. But the problem was --> What were ID cards? Lots of other posters were hung there. Some as school maps, others about the students' awards, while different ones, titled with the triangular attention symbol, were numerating the school's rules. I wasn't really fan of hundreds of tiny letters, so I just averted my gaze to target the colorful framed scenes over the black walls, absorbing the clear-obscure timid light escaping the opened scars of the stipy window. The windows were still closed, but it was pouring over the halls coolness and spiritual warmth. Though the dullness of this place, I had strangely the feeling that I get when I'm home. And silence was for the first time something good and ... healthy.

I put some footsteps over the wooden floor trying to get under one of those pale sunlights. I reserved some minutes to roll the little heart-shaped diamond of the necklace, that I've been given by my sister, between my fingers. The colors filtrating every corner of it was a scenery to hold in a frame for eternity. Though seeing it around my col was unfamiliar and could I say bothering ? Because, from the moment I opened my eyes at, my sister's col was its owner. It's, as Hana said, a tradition in our family. This necklace is almost 50 years old, every girl in our family has it for 5 years, at her twentieth birthday. And obviously I was the first one to receive it at her eighteenth.

A mecanic shock down my feet pulled me out of my rain of thoughts, accompanied with loud footsteps. Echo made it sound like coming from everywhere. Every corner was welcoming open-heartedly those thick heels hitting the floor mercilessly. Searching for my necklace,as a habit of mine to confront fear, I tried to lessen the suspense in the air, or maybe not. The sound suddenly stopped, making more sweat exiting my pores. Trying to identify its source, my mind couldn't fix a certain corner.

"Mum, don't let me go!" I whispered to my clothes. The sound re-drifted in the same pace to my ear drums.

The internal me finally spoke. And guess what it said --> RUN !!

I run until I didn't know where to put my foot next. Darkness. I totally ignored where was I. I was sensing the narrow distance between those walls. My eyes fought a super-confused eye-roll, looking for the most simple hint in the world to get out of this freaking place. I started cursing myself getting forward slowly, really slowly, like if I was letting an invisible snail win in an idling race.

My sneakers got a little sticky to the ground, and the place darker. Suddenly, my index, raised to know whether there was an obstacle or not, has been stopped by a wall. Great ! A dead end ! Hold the applause ladies and gentleman !

I searched for my necklace sensing its logic place, and ... yeah you guessed it --> necklace 없어. Necklace 없다니까.

I shook my head trying to shake off the cloud of thoughts raining on me, and focus on how was I going to get out of here. My shallow and fast breathing made it hard for me to hear if somebody was here or not. My ears were filled with my inhale and exhale consecutive sounds. 1, 2, 3. I counted to calm down. Something buzzed in my ears. Cat calls ? Gossip ? Or just far talks ?Whatever that was, that meant that somebody was really there.

"Hello ?" I shouted desperately waiting for an answer. The sounds were cut off.

Hey hey hey ! Is that a scary movie with the grisly knob-twist ? Where there's the unexpected secret wooden door ? Where spirits are hidden ?

Sounds were getting closer and closer as the seconds slowly passed by. Yeah, that's a good thing; but the problem was they weren't just footsteps.