"He who sees a need and waits to be asked for help is as unkind as if he had refused it."

Dante Alighieri

“Why in the world did you choose this place?” I heard Mom yelling at Dad through the walls of the bedroom. I place an ear against the old rugged walls. I was trying to listen in on the conversation. Senovio tapped my shoulder and mouthed, “Can you hear anything?” I crinkled my nose and sucked my lips in. I flung my hand at him, trying to get him to keep quiet. He raised his hands at the level of his eyes and backed up. I placed my ear on the wall once again, trying my best to focus on what our parents were arguing about. “We could have gone to Disneyland or gone to Joshua Tree and see Keys Ranch,” Mom shouted.

“I thought it was a decent place. I didn’t know it would turn out like this,” said Dad.

“You couldn’t resist,” Mom replied. “You just had to sign up with me knowing.”

“I did not!” Dad shouted, “I showed you this place, and you agreed to stay here.”

“No, I did not!” Mom shouted. “It was all you, Jacob, all you!”

“Oh this again,” Dad replied. “Blame it on me, not you. Put all the blame on me. I’m a bad husband, I’m a bad dad, that’s all I am to you, Lyanna. Oh, but I’m all good when I bring you home expensive household items.” I gasped and covered my mouth. Senovio looked at me, confused. But before he could say anything, I motioned him to keep quiet.

“Lyanna...Lyanna I’m sorry!”

“Aye mierda!” shouted Senovio from behind me.

I jolted and looked. Cristobal stood before us. “Pardon the intrusion,” he told us. “The Mistress has requested a meeting with you in the living room.” Senovio and I looked at one another. We narrowed our eyes and raised brows. This was our way of communicating. We agreed to it and go. We followed the butler to an eccentric living room. Cristobal told my siblings and me to wait by the seating area until Castilla arrived. He then handed Senovio a glass of whiskey and left the room. I watched Senovio bring the crystal to his lips and took a small sip. He made a sour look and set the glass down. “Tastes old,” he said. He then picked up the glass and downed the rest. I looked at him, disgusted.

“Then why’d you drink it?” I asked him.

“What? It’d be rude not to finish it,” he replied.

“Oh, when were you such an expert on manners?” I asked.

“SiNcE tHe DaY yOu nEveR gAvE uP yOuR iPhone,” Senovio said, mocking her.

I scuffed. I looked at our little brother. Henry sat there quietly, gazing out the window. “Do you think it is going to stop raining?” asked Henry. I shrugged my shoulders and sat down next to him. I placed a hand on my cheek and stared at him. “It depends,” I replied. “The weather will stop when it feels like it.” I looked over my shoulder and watched as Senovio pick up an old box covered in a thin sheet of dust. He opened it. “Ooh,” he said in awe, while pulling out a cigar. Senovio brought it to his nose and gave it a sniff. He smiled, pleased at the warm delicious scent. “H. Upmann cigars, nice…from 1844. Gonna keep that in my pocket,” he muttered lowly.

I looked at him. “Can you not?” I told him, dumbfounded at what he was doing. I watched as he grabbed a box of matches and pockets them as well. I whispered, “Unbelievable.” Watching my brother cause mischief was a painful experience. He was worse than Henry. Senovio then elbows a book, knocking it forward towards the surface of the table. He reaches for it. Then a low rumbling noise occurred, and we turned towards the wall in front of us. The old, shaggy wall pulled away from its hinges and revealed a secret doorway with a hidden staircase. Senovio looked at the book. He pulls the book towards him and the wall closes the hidden space.

“Oooooo,” Senovio said, looking at our little brother. Henry looked at the hidden door, surprised, and jumped off the couch. “Do it again!” he shouted. Senovio did it again. The wall slid aside, and again it slid closed. Senovio made it go back and forth a few times. When he did it a fourth time, I had enough of his childish behavior. I got up and rushed toward him, pulling the book towards them, closing the door. “That’s enough!” I hissed at him. “Do you want to break it?”

“Relax, ‘ermana,” he told me. “Let’s go look inside.” He pushed me aside and picked up Henry. I watched as he walked to the concealed stairway and looked in. “Carmen, you gotta see this,” Senovio said, walking in. I looked over my shoulder. My eyes scaled around the room. My eyes looked back at Senovio. I breathed a shaky sigh and ran in. Right when we stepped in, the concealed staircase closed us in. Senovio turned. “Oi!” he shouted. “Cristobal...puto?! You’re in there, cavron?!” Senovio banged on the door, hoping someone would hear his screams.

“Would you just shut up already?!” I shouted at him.

“Why didn’t you keep the door open?” he asked me.

“How was I supposed to know that it would close?” I protested. “I’m not the one that was touching things!” Senovio groaned and shuffled through his pockets. He took out his iPhone and turned on the flashlight. We looked up at the staircase. He swallowed the lump that sat in his throat. He looked at me. “Where is that freaky gringo when you need him?” I shrugged my shoulders and looked back up at the staircase. “Well,” I told him. “Our only way out is going up.”

We made our way up the spiral staircase. It lead us to an elongated platform with a flat exit. There was no doorknob present, only a small slender handle. Senovio shined his iPhone light on it, staring at the features of the door. “What’s this?” he muttered as he reached up towards the switch-like device. He placed his thick fingers on the handle and moved it up, revealing two holes in the shape of human eyes. Senovio peaked in, staring through the peephole. “Oh,” he said, impressed. “I see what it is now.”

“Well,” I said. “What is it?”

“That...” Senovio said, taking hold of the slender handle. “Is our way out.” He pushed the door open and revealed the corridor before us. The three of us stepped through. We turned around as the door closed. “It’s a secret passageway. I suppose it’s what the servants used to get through...maybe?” Senovio reached for a lit candelabra and made his way down the hall. I grabbed Henry by his hand and followed Senovio. We passed by paintings and busts that decorated the hall. “What makes you think the servants used it?” I asked him. “Clearly, it was used by the owners of the house.”

“Oh?” asked Senovio, as he looked over his shoulder. He spun around the back of his heels and placed his hand on his hip. “And, what makes you so sure that the master or whatever she is done?”

I shrugged my shoulders in response. “Maybe because there was a hidden door in the living room as well?” Senovio was slight and bobbed his head up and down. Senovio looked at the paintings around us and stopped at one particular one. My brother pointed at the painting. Senovio opened his mouth but quickly shut it. My brother pursed his lips together and scrunched up his nose. He opened his mouth again. “Don’t the paintings...look a bit off?” he asked.

I looked at him, irked. I rolled my eyes and shook my head from side to side. “Senovio,” I replied, “They’re paintings, not television screens. Just like the other paintings down stairs these are一OH MY GOSH.” I took a step back, staring at the painting in horror. I placed a hand over my chest, examining the rotting foreground of the painting. “What the...that was not like this a minute ago, Henry, don’t look...” I told him. Senovio raised his brows and showed his hands to me, giving me an attitude of “I told you so.”