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Memories brought comfort to my chest. Although my family was very loud, and I was often neglected, as one of the younger kids, I still had some great memories. This cabin was the place where I first got into writing, and it would always have a special place in my heart.
Carefully, I approached the stairs.
Even the smell hadn’t changed. Everything was exactly as I remembered it to be.
Once I reached the bottom of the stairs, I began to look around.
It was very quiet, the TV turned off. Almost as if I were the only person inside.
I checked the kitchen and the living room, only to find them empty.
The cabin had a back door as well, that was connected with a small garage. It was locked. For the first time, the back door was locked. Usually, dad would just lock the garage and wouldn’t bother with the back door. I didn’t think there was even a key for that.
The front door showed no luck, either.
I paced around the kitchen. There was nothing much I could use as a weapon, aside from two big kitchen knives. I took one, tightly holding the handle of it.
My stomach growled. It’d been a while since I’d eaten last, but this was not the time nor place for me to be hungry. Instead, I looked out of the window at the view of the main road towards the cabin.
Tire marks were indented on the snow, but it’d been a while since he left me in here. The snow had covered most of it, and it was still snowing heavily. At this rate, it would be impossible to leave until the snow melts.
I was sitting near the window for hours. I watched as the day slowly turned into night, ignoring the hunger I felt. Watching the snow was beautiful, especially in the mountains. It was a unique experience, and I adored it.
But this situation was too fucked up, and I couldn’t relax, not for a single moment.
Then, once I noticed that he wouldn’t be back anytime soon, I decided to snoop around, to try to find something useful.
Although the furniture was the exact same as it was when my family owned it, the decoration wasn’t.
The bookshelf in the living room was half empty, half filled with books. I didn’t have my glasses on me, so it took me a while to realize that every single book in it was mine.
I had multiple editions of my works, some had hardcovers, and the series I had published had an edition where all the books were compiled into one big book. The first three rows were full of them, and it made me uneasy.
When the hell did he get his hands on these?
It couldn’t have been while he was in prison.
And how the hell did anyone not notice him? How was he still roaming free?
I wanted to believe that the reason he wasn’t back yet was because he got caught, but as soon as my mind was infused with thoughts of him, my stomach dropped. My gut feeling was rarely wrong, so I listened to it.
It was probably one of his games, to taunt me, mock me and break me, just like he had promised he would.
I searched this entire house, top to bottom, twice.
Nothing. I found absolutely nothing.
It was as if a ghost had been living here.
The kitchen was mainly empty, aside from a couple of plates, glasses, mugs and cutlery. There were a couple of decorative candles that I wouldn’t be able to light, given that I couldn’t find a lighter.
The living room was just as vacant. My books were the only things I could actually take in my hands. Everything else seemed bolted in its place, even the paintings on the wall and the fake flowers on the ground.
The smallest bedroom was the only place I didn’t get to look at.
The other bigger bedroom was a success. Well, if I could even call it that.
The wardrobe had his clothes that smelled stupidly good. I ignored the small ache in the pit of my stomach, and closed the door shut. I moved to the bedside tables, only to come up empty.
