Prologue

“You...are out of your mind.” He said plainly.

“Think about it.”

“I don't suppose you're starting to drag me and Anne in to this, do you?”

“Well...”

Dave shook his head and looked somewhere else, “Emma, you're thinking way too much.”

“I've never been more sure, Dave,” I pleaded, “Please...you have got to trust me on this.”

“Give it a rest, will you?” Dave seemed to consider what I said. But soon, he turned skeptical and stumbled back to his blue and yellow striped bed and pulled out his favourite sports magazine from underneath.

“I'm back!” We heard her announcing, followed by the sound of the door slamming shut. It felt exactly like a horror movie; I felt the sudden chill, the goosebumps and all.

“So listen,” She started speaking the minute she heard our foootsteps down the hall, “I was thinking of planning a fun night for the 3 of us, you know, go out watch some movies, hang out at the cafe...”

She winked and waited for our reply.

But there wasn't a single answer. Hanging out with Aunt Jan was fine, except that she had always treated as if we were 7. High pitched voice and squeezes that would leave you panting for air, we couldn't picture ourselves 'hanging' out with her.

“Sorry Aunt Jan, I've got a ton of homework to do,” I tried to lie.

I felt guilty just watching her expression fall when Dave too, had to reject the idea with the same reason.

“But tomorrow's Saturday,” Aunt Jan still persisted, “It's not a school night.”

“Sorry Aunt Jan,” Dave looked a little more comforting, “Can we take a rain cheque?”

“Oh alright.” Aunt Jan sighed slowly, “Next time then.”

We smiled politely, helped unpack the groceries and crept up to our rooms once everything was in its proper place.

“Not again...” Dave rolled his eyes the minute I entered his room, shutting the door behind me as I whispered the accusation again, at times looking back at the brown door;suspicious and afraid at the same time.

“Why do you think she keeps a gun, then?” I brought up the recent discovery when rummaging the old cupboard downstairs right all the way in the end of the corridor. This particluar corridor had no other entrance except one that lead to the garage. And we rarely went down to the garage.

A faded brown color surrounded the old cupboard; scratches of yellow, red and brown adorned the entire wooden cupboard, making it seem older than it really is. It was a rather odd cupboard, seated in the end of a long empty corridor, with a single door to the left of it, leading to the forsaken garage.

“Good point.” Dave thought for a minute, “But what if she has it for safety reasons?”

“But it looks so old, Dave,”

“Maybe it hasn't been used because there's no use for it.”

“But its placed next to the garage.” I debated, “Why on earth would anyone have a gun placed next to the garage? What if a robber broke in to the garage?”

“Where do you think it should be then?”

“In her room, in the small shelf at the bedside, where she could reach for it the fastest.”

“But it's so huge, Emma,” Dave was getting bored, “And it looks old...Maybe she's collecting them,”

“Collecting guns?”

“Yes.”

“But there's only one.”

Dave made no reply. Instead we both stared at each other; each thinking the same thing.

“I bet there's more...” I said.

“NO, NO WAY!” Dave wanted me stop pressing in on the subject, “You...” He pointed his finger at me, “You need to rest. Maybe you're going insane. Maybe the green wallpaper in your room is making you so anxious to get out of this world and make a new world.”

I stared at him; what did he read this time?

“Sorry...” He blushed and sheepshly explained, “Hannah loved The Yellow Wallpaper.”

I stood there, lips pursed and feet tapping on the ground to an unknown rhythm; frustrated at his rejection to my brilliant idea. I let the whole thing drop a few weeks later anyway and completely forgot about it all.

3 years later, he came up to my room knocking and hitting hard on the door as fast as he could. Sweating and scared out of his wit, Dave quickly came in and headed for somewhere to sit and take a breather.

“What in the world is the matter with you?” I asked as he shakily pulled the chair at my desk and sat down. I was sitting on my bed reading a good book when he had conveniently interrupted me. That said, I wasn't in the mood to entertain him.

Rubbing the back of his neck and looking around the room in the sort of way that made you think he had gone insane, Dave gulped and finally said, “You're right.”

“I'm always right.” I smiled, turning back to my book. A part of me was annoyed at him for interrupting me but a part of me was pleased at the sudden compliment.

He made no other reply except an apology and a heartfelt invitation.