Betraying Innocence by Airicka Phoenix Read Free Book Online

Mr. Whiley that. Instead, she gave him a small smile and left him to finish the job.
    While he went to the van to get his things, Ana brought in the groceries and squeezed her way through the jungle of boxes into the kitchen. She put the items away, stepping around things to reach the fridge and cupboards. Although her miserly purchases made no dent in the vast tombs of the cupboard, she was satisfied that she wouldn’t starve until one of her parents made time to do a proper shopping trip. Folding up the paper bags, she stuffed them beneath the sink, dusted her hands and was about to leave. Instead, with a resigned sigh, she turned on the boxes hiding the pea-green cupboards, marble counters and white tiling. It needs to be done eventually , she mused.
    Upstairs, heavy footfalls thundered along the ceiling as Mr. Whiley roamed from room to room. Occasionally, the scuffles erupted in a shrilling buzz followed by more scuffling, scraping and cussing. Thankfully, Ana unearthed the kitchen radio in the first box she opened. She wasted no time plugging it in and finding a rock station. The sound of Pink Floyd crooning about receding pain filled the silence. Ana didn’t know the lyrics, but she hummed along as she ripped newspapers away from neatly wrapped dishes. When Mr. Whiley entered the kitchen, she had most of the boxes emptied and collapsed in the corner. She showed him where her mom wanted the jack put in and left him to it while she went to fix herself a sandwich. She took it into the living room and sat on the armrest of the sofa to eat.
    Def Leppard was playing softly from the kitchen. Ana watched the swaying trees outside the large bay window as she nibbled on her sandwich and lost herself in the lyrics. It was only because static claimed the melody and a low buzzing took its place that she jolted out of her thoughts. A cold draft swept through the room, ruffling the curtains and bathing Ana in chills. The plate in her hand trembled as she climbed to her feet, shivering.
    “Mr. Whiley?” She padded into the kitchen.
    The man was where she’d left him, seemingly untouched by the phantom breeze hanging as thick as arctic air throughout the house. He glanced up when she walked in, a screwdriver clamped between his teeth.
    “Did you open a window , or a door?” she asked.
    Bushy eyebrows tangling in confusion , Mr. Whiley snatched the device from his teeth. “No. Why?”
    Ana shook her head, feeling too silly to actually voice that there was a chill only she could feel. “I … nothing. Sorry.”
    He didn’t look like he believed her, but the screwdriver was back in his mouth and he was turning to the task of wiring the jack.
    Bottom lip caught between her teeth, Ana shuffled out of the room. The hardwood creaked beneath her feet as she wandered into the hallway. On her left was the living room. On her right was the door to the basement. She stopped in the middle. Ahead of her were the foyer and the front door, which was closed. Across from the door was the stairs leading upstairs. Between the door and the stairs, down a short hall on the left, was the dining room. But Ana didn’t have to go any further than where she was standing, because the freezing draft was blowing through the crack under the basement door.
    The door was thick and crafted from cherry wood, a normal door with a normal brass doorknob. Ana had never been down there, but the longer she stood there, her ankles bathed in cold, the more certain she was that she wanted to keep it that way. Nevertheless, her fingers were reaching for the knob. She hissed as it pressed into her palm like a lump of ice. It gave easily beneath her touch. Then, like any good, spooky basement door, it creaked as it swung outward, slapping her in the face with a darkness too black to be real. It was thick. She was sure she could reach out and touch it, and despite the chill wafting up, the dark beat hot like an open wound. Then, as she stared into it, she could have sworn