Taking a deep breath in, I slowly start to descend down the snow covered roof. I took my time, careful not to slip and fall to my death. The cold freezing breeze harshly blew right into my face, I grimaced. Spotting a tree nearby, I went towards it silently. Grace may sense someone walking on the roof, and it's not going to good once she sees me. She'll probably call Harry, and I don't want that to happen. I grab a hold of its cold branch, and climbed my way down it. I gasp when the branch I stepped on gave away. Okay, okay you can do this. Relax! Slowly climbing down the trunk, and seeing that I was almost on the ground, I jumped off. I let out a grunt once I landed on my feet.

"Lucinda!" I froze once I heard Grace calling my name. "Lucinda! This is not funny! Lucinda!" When she stopped, I made a run for it and went into the forest. I cursed, tripping on my feet before getting back up again and ran. Knowing I was out of reach, I slowed down to catch my breath.

Cold. I felt my teeth chatter as I walked further into the woods, even if I don't know where it'll take me. Shivering, I decided to walk briskly. Staring at the bare trees, it reminded me something out of a scary film that I used to watch during weekends with some friends. Too bad that my life right now is like one.

I smiled to myself once I heard noises, and a fade sound of cars honking. Civilization. I ran fast until I see the road right in front of me, I let out a laugh in relief. Seeing cars passing by, I tried to hitch a free ride but they seem to ignore me and carry on.

Seeing a pick up truck, I hailed it down. To my luck, it stopped. The driver opened the door, the middle aged man smiled at me. "Hello Missy, get in." Thanking him, I hop inside. Closing the door, the man continued to drive. "So, what brings you to the woods in this snowy weather?" He questioned. "Were you camping in a lodge?"

"No Sir, I lost my way you see." I answered, lying through my teeth. He frown slightly, "Lost your way?" I nodded, slightly rubbing my hands together. "I'm not from around here you see. Just visiting."

"Ah, a tourist." He laughs, "Well, if you don't want to get lost again, you better stay with your relatives or something." I nod in agreement, after a few minutes we arrive. Stopping in front of the same supermarket that me and my mom went to when we first arrive here, I got off the truck. "Better be careful next time Miss. Don't lose yourself in this town."

"Thank you Sir, and I'll listen to your advice." He just gave me a small smile, waving goodbye. The truck disappeared into a corner, I turn to look at the building, I bit my lip and started my way down the road. I can't believe I escaped! I triumphed once more and started to run, unable to wait. I listened to my shoes crushing the snow as I went, nearing the neighborhood.

I stopped on my tracks the moment I saw the house, snow covered the roof and the driveway. I stared at the house closely, all the windows were shut and there doesn't seem to be anybody inside. Where are they? Making sure that nobody was looking, I dash towards the house. Opening the door, I peeked inside, seeing that no one is around, I went in.

Where could they be? Are they still looking for me?

Stating at the living room, it was the same as if I was not gone. The only thing that was out of place were papers scattered on top of the mahogany coffee table. I walked over to it to get a closer look.

It was posters with a picture of me, telling that I was missing and that if I was found, they should call my parents. Deciding that I shouldn't stay long, I went straight upstairs to my room. Shutting the door behind me, I took my backpack and started to pack my clothes and other necessities that I needed. Groaning in anger, I slipped my hand under my bed, finding my deodorant spray that fell and rolled. I let out a smile in triumph once I found it, sneezing when I inhaled dust.

My eyes stared at something peculiar that is also under my bed. It was wooden and seemed like important, taking a hold of it before pulling it out. I frowned at the wooden box sitting right in front of me, brushing off the dust and some cobwebs.

"J.S? What does that mean?" I murmured, running my finger over the carved initials. Is this, yes I think it is! It's the same box that me and Randy discovered, the box that dad wanted him to throw away. I bit my lip at the thought of him, holding back the tears and memories.

I held the lid but it won't budge. Right, it's lock. Staring at the lock, I stood up and set out to find what can open it. My eyes caught my vanity and there, my hair pins lay untouched. Taking two, I kneel down and started to pick the lock.

Each second that passed, I became more and more anxious to know what is inside the box. "Almost there," I murmured to myself. Click! Lips parting in awe, the lid rose open. Yellowish papers was the first thing I saw, removing the papers, I found an album and a journal. I took the journal, opening it, the same initials carved on the box was written on the first page. What made my eyes go wide was the date under the initials.

1939

Wow, that's old. I flipped the page and read J.S's entry on January 1939. I carefully handled it since the paper would tear apart if I don't.

January 23, 1939

I can't believe what I just heard! Dad can't join the war! I don't care if I sound selfish, but my dad can't go to the war for our country. I don't want to lose him. He's the only thing closest to me other than my mother. I hate it. I hate the idea of him leaving. Why can't they just ask another man? Surely, there are others who are willing to go. I hope my sister will support me on this, it seems like she wants him to go.

-J.S

Skipping a few pages, I settled on March. Clearing my throat, I started to read the entry.

March 15, 1939

The war continues, and we still haven't heard from dad. I'm getting nervous and worried about him. I hope and pray that he is alright. But my sister? No, she' busy with that guy of hers. I wonder why she keeps spending time with him when she should worry about our dad. And when we get together at the table, she always talks about him. It's getting annoying.

-J.S.

March 16, 1939

I hate her! Why can't she see that loving him is not healthy. He's changing her into somebody she doesn't want to be. My sister has changed and I don't like the new her. She's rude, hotheaded and doesn't take heed on our warnings. I hate him! I hate her! Both of them could just die!

-J.S.

I scratched my chin at the astounding entry before skipping a few more pages until I landed on the entries for September.

September 19, 1939

I was wrong. I was wrong about their relationship. They deserve each other. And I am happy that she found her true love. They should be together, but I also know dad won't agree with me. When he arrived home since he was injured at the war, he wasn't the same again.

-J.S.

September 20, 1939

I helped my sister escape for their date tonight. I hope she won't get caught. Praying that what I just did was right, or I'll be swimming in guilt if she gets caught. Dad does not want her to have a lover, especially someone who is a bit younger than her. I wish she is being careful.

-J.S.

September 23, 1939

I didn't write for the past two days because she got caught. I should be the one being punished but Dad seems eager to punish her. I'm so sorry sister. I wish I could do something, but I can't without endangering us both.

-J.Smith

My eyes lingered on the name written after the entry. Smith? Could they be relatives of Randy? No, it can't be since there are a lot of Smiths in the world and Randy said he and his family came from Canada. Must be a coincidence. I went on reading the journal.

October 2, 1939

Why do I have this funny feeling every time I see Dad staring at me with those eyes filled with anger. What did I do? I haven't stayed outside the house too long ever since my sister has been punished. She is always locking herself inside the room. And her lover, has also been asking me where is she. I just told him that he shouldn't worry about her. I hate lying to him, but I have to.

-J.S.

Just as flipped the page, an article from a newspaper fell on my thigh, I picked it up, staring at the black and white picture of a body covered in white cloth. Above the entry was a short article, I drew the journal closer.

A murderer on the loose! The chief's 19 year old daughter, Mertil Jane Smith, was brutally killed. The investigators are still on the case to find who murdered her.

October 3, 1939

She's dead. My sister is dead. It is my fault. Mertil is dead. It's all my fault.

I dropped the leather notebook on the floor in shock. Mertil? Mertil Smith? I hurriedly took the album, scanning the pictures. I lingered on a family photo of four, all smiling widely. What caught my attention was the girl standing beside an older one. Scanning a few more, I saw the same girl standing in front of a house. The next photo was another girl with curly hair, squinting under the bright sun.

Another photo showed a woman in a wedding gown, beside her was a man in uniform. The last photo was two young girls, one with curly hair and the other one with straight hair. I read the words written below it.

Josephine and Mertil, two beloved angels and daughters.

No, it can't be. Just as I was about to close the album, a photo fell out, I picked it up before turning it around. I gasp loudly, letting the photo go as I stared at it unbelievably. It was a picture of Harry, well, a younger Harry Styles. Except, he's human. He was hugging the girl with straight hair on the waist, huge smiles on their faces. The only thing unsettling is that the girl, looks just like me. I felt like I was staring at my own photos except the time dated back in 1939. Harry was right saying that we both look alike.

Feeling strange and unsettled, I folded the photo and slip it inside my pocket. Standing up, I went and continue to pack, ignoring and trying to forget what I just saw. I shouldn't have open that box. I shouldn't have bother.

Once everything that I needed was packed, I took my backpack and walk out of my room. Descending the stairs, I decided to take one last look of the living room, breathing in the scent that I would miss. I won't be able to come back without getting caught by the police, might as well say goodbye to this house.

I smiled faintly as I stared at our family portrait that's displayed on the wall, grazing my finger on it. "Lucinda?" I felt my blood go cold, my body stiff at the familiar voice. "Lucinda, is that you?"