Chapter 5: Glimpses into the Past

The days smudged in one blurred haze after the incident at the mill. I had been living precariously, with an eye on everything happening around me. It had shaken me to the bones—whatever it was that had walked away from that thing. But enigma by itself, Eldridge Falls was like the call of a siren calling deeper into the dark. But with the diary, there was comfort in history, and within the huge story that Eleanor developed, she was so much more than a victim racked up by an uncaring world; she was one feisty and gutsy lady. Arguably the most tender of love affairs was that with a man named William, but that only made it all the more brutal as it had to be kept utterly covert. William was gentle, and kind—everything that brooding Nathaniel Blackwood was not. It spoke of an affair of love that had budded in secrecy—a stolen paradise in a world of shadowy figures. What did ache with longing was a tale of pure love told so passionately. It was impossible that, as I followed in the fast‐flowing sentences, Nathaniel should not find a place therein. William, so gentle and nature‐loving, contrasted with the streaked man of ambition, underneath are flashes of dark hue. It was such a high contrast. A battle. Meanwhile, in town, there were rumours spread all about me. Purring murmurs, curious and suspicious eyes—eyes that made me feel like an animal in a cage, forever under observation and scrutiny. That was when I met Dr. Jameson Hayes, the town doctor. You know the type—strong, yet unobtrusive; full of unobtrusive acts of kindness, with a character that somehow eased strangers, too, into being at ease with him. His eyes contrasted with an intense, yet sad twinkle—the kind of depths that spoke of a long story through a past raked with trouble. I felt drawn to him, soft by his nature, his unending kindness, and his readiness to listen. He listened to my stories without any judgment and gave what he could as words of encouragement and advice. I felt he kept me safe from the storm brewing around me. But the more we came to know each other, the more I realized that there was more to Jameson than meets the eye. He just had this uncanny way of looking straight through people, right into their very core of pain. Somewhere deep down within, I realized that he was hiding something. We sat by the river one evening, watching the sunset, and I told him everything. My diary, the creatures—everything. And he sat there in silence, listening to my many worries in his eyes. "This is dangerous, Emma," he told me with a low voice. "You're playing with fire." I nodded my head, feeling my heart going heavy inside. "I know, Esteban, but I could never stop now." He takes my hand. "I am with you, no matter what shall be," he assures me, his words being full of truth. It was something relieving from his words, as I realized that I would not be doing this alone; I had Jameson and Eleanor, whose ghost led me the way. Together, we shall uncover the truth no matter what happens. It became an accumulation of tension in the passing days. People started getting frayed at the edges, their nerves quite taut like stretched rubber bands. Then came a moment that changed everything. A woman in her early twenties was found dead in the woods, with strong marks of violence on her body. The town was shocked, and the police feared for the community. I knew it, deep down; it was all interlinked. From the Watchers to the Blackwoods, from the secrets of the town. everything was beginning to fall into a perfect storm. And there I stood, right in the middle of it all. The news of the murder created shockwaves around the village. Everybody was in high currents with fear written on many faces. I felt the thick, heavy air of tension, clenched tight enough for a person to cut it with a knife. Liv was shaken, talking to me as she tightened the grip around me out of fear. "It's like something out of a horror movie," she whispered, her voice shaking. "Who would do something like that?" I had no reply. I knew only that this was all part of something. The Watchers, the Blackwoods, this town and its secrets—a terrifying puzzle. Jameson had been called out to the body. He didn't come home until well into the night. His face was white and pinched. "It's awful, Emma," he said, his voice full of sadness. "A young life cut short." I took his hand in mine. "I'm so sorry, Jameson," I said barely audibly. He squeezed my hand. "I just hope they catch whoever did this," he said determinedly. Everyone was busy with thoughts of loss, and everybody was horrified throughout the town. Nobody dared to step out of the house. The streets were deserted post-night. An overall atmosphere of dread. The eerie feeling of eyes watching me crept into my head. Danger seemed to be by every shadow, and every murmur made my flesh cringe. And yet, I would not be scared off by the perpetual state of fear that my life had become. One evening, while I was home alone, I heard a noise downstairs. My heart began to race. I clutched a baseball bat and crept down the stairs. It was very dark in the kitchen, the window so long and narrow that only a wedge of moonlight might enter. I listened with a sound that had every nerve in my head taut and strained my ears. Then I heard it—that very fine scratching noise. My heart suddenly revved up, and I gripped my bat a little tighter. With short gasps, I slowly started in the direction of the noise. When I walked into the kitchen, someone stood at my window. A tall shadowy person—he stepped toward me as the door opened from my side. I gasped. It was Nathaniel Blackwood. He turned to regard me with a cold, calculating expression. "You have been digging too deep, Emma," he said in that low, menacing voice. I braced my body against my quaking, lifting the bat. "Stay away from me," I said. He smiled then, a cold smile that arrested my heartbeat. "We are going to have a long, long talk, Emma," he said. "A very, very long one." Before I had a moment to even gather wits, he pounced on me. Oh, the adrenalized state that went through my body was amazing. I swung the baseball bat towards his head. He ducked my swing and turned my wrist painfully. The bat clattered to the floor. Ice-cold fear washed through my veins as my body began to tremble. I tried to pull back, but he held me now with an iron grip on my forearm. He peeled back, his breath hot on my face. "You're such a foolish girl, Emma," he hissed. "Playing with fire is dangerous." I struggled against his grip, but it was in vain. Stronger than me, he knew it. Panic started to rise in my chest. I had to do something. He was tightening his grip while talking in derisive amusement when, just as I was about to lose all hope, I heard a noise upstairs: footsteps. Somebody was coming. Not thinking, I seized on the opportunity: Gave him a kick on the shin so hard that it made him step back. I then tried to make a run for it. I ran for the stairs as though my life depended on it, my heart pounding in my ears. I was reaching the top when the front door bashed in. Rage was taking over Jameson's expression as he filled the doorway. Beyond, I could see police car lights. In a flash of his eyes, Nathaniel was back to Jameson. "You'll pay for this," he snarled and then disappeared into the night. Jameson was up and over, that fast, moving violence, and then he swept me into his arms. "Are you all right?" he asked, voice shaking. I nodded, helpless for words. I was safe for the moment, but the danger was far from over. Nathaniel was out there, and he wouldn't let up that easily. I was trying to breathe while they ransacked the house. My brain was racing: Nathaniel had been in my house, in my space. Oh God, what a scary thought. Jameson held me constricted in his arms to him, offering comfort and protection. And then it came: the realization of how much I cared for him. He was my rock, my safe harbour in a stormy sea. I knew this storm had only begun its furious gale. The secrets of Eldridge Falls were buried deep, whole, and waiting to be found by me. And find them I would come to hell or high water—I would.