Free The Waking (The Upturned Hourglass) by T.K. Burckhardt Page A

until she was outside of the front gates of the school. She was done for the day; she couldn’t handle anything more.
    “Where are you going?”
    This time Valie really did jump--and squeaked a little, which only embarrassed her more. Either Jack was amazingly fast or he was amazingly quiet.
    When she turned to face him, she expected him to be laughing at her frightened utterances, but instead Valie found him looking at her cautiously, his blue eyes showing a different emotion—was it worry?
    “Are you okay?”
    All Valie could do was nod. She needed to get away from him before she said something she’d regret. With those gorgeous eyes watching her, she felt like her guts were his to examine.
    “Yes. I just need coffee. I’ll see you later, Jack,” she murmured. And with that, she sped away, jogging all the way back to Palmetto Manor. 
    When Valie entered the apartment, she was breathless not from hurrying, but from the fact that Jack Haden totally unbalanced her and the physical state of the apartment didn’t help to right her mental equilibrium, either—Alden was obviously in one of his worse moods. The lamp beside the living room couch was knocked over and the books from the small bookshelf were tossed about the room as if he’d thrown them. She hadn’t seen him this angry in a long time.
    Cautiously Valie stepped into the danger zone.
    “Alden?”
    She walked slowly to the old man’s bedroom down the left hall. The room was empty except for the scant pieces of his shabby furniture—and a recently broken picture frame lying face down on the floor. She retreated back to the hallway and looked toward the opposite end of the hall, where her own room was located.
    “Alden?” she called again. She heard a violent sob coming from her bedroom. “Alden?” She strode quickly to the other side of the apartment. When she pushed open the half-closed door she found her grandfather slouched on the edge of the bed, steady tears flowing down his cheeks. Those tears would have ignited pity in Valie’s heart if their owner hadn’t been holding in his shaking hands an old photograph set afire. Her grandfather was burning one of the only pictures of her mother that Valie possessed. 
    “Stop!” Valie screamed. She ran at him and tore the photograph out of his crumpled hand. The anguish in Alden’s eyes vanished immediately only to be replaced by a cold fury. He raised himself off of the bed and, with the back of his now-empty hand, struck Valie sharply across the cheek, hitting hard against the bone, sending her crashing to the floor.
    But Alden’s rage was not yet spent. Screaming at the top of his voice, the old man leaned over her and shook a threatening fist in her face, while ranting, “ You ! You and your devil of a father! You ruin everything, you monster! He stole her from me and you killed her! You killed your own mother! You killed my Lizzy !” He sobbed unconsolably and headed for the door. “You’re a freak! You’re a freak, just like your father! You should never have been born!” The old man stormed unsteadily down the hall and slammed the door to his room behind him leaving the girl alone amidst the turmoil.
    Valie had turned to stone. For what seemed like an eternity, she sat on the floor, stunned and crying, biting her lip hard so as not to allow even one whimper to escape. The charred picture lay on the ground next to her. Luckily it was face-down, otherwise she never would have been able to stop the tears. She couldn’t bear to turn over that picture and see her mother’s half-burned features.
    Her mind became aware of the clock in the hall ticking away seconds and minutes. Before the gonging of the next hour, the immediate fear and sadness of the moment were gone, only to be replaced by an anger that burned deep in Valie’s heart. She couldn’t put into words how much Alden’s mutilation of her keepsake, his destruction of her memory, hurt worse than his blow or his words. She’d known