Page 40 of Grace

“Come, Grace, I’ll show you your room.” Jamie took my hand and led me to a door he had written my name on. At least my brother had been waiting for me to get home.

I opened the door and turned the light on. It buzzed as if we were in a cheap horror flick. Stale mold and other stomach-turning smells mixed in the air. As I stepped in, the floorboards creaked under my feet, and a gray mouse bolted along the wall. Brown cardboard boxes were stacked on top of each other, and my old posters lined the rotten walls, giving some color to their desolation.

Cyrus and Jamie, his hands in his pockets, were standing guard in the doorway as I stepped over to one of the boxes I could open. It was full of my old clothes and other stuff, like my Discman. The mouse droppings inside made my stomach turn, but I wanted to listen to something that could bring me back to happier times. I took the Discman out, turned it on, and put the earphones in my ears. Jamie must have put new batteries in it because the wonderful voice of Billie Joe Armstrong made my senses dance. The song continued where I had stopped it five years ago. A fresh wave of tears rolled down my face—it was the happy memories that hurt the most.

I tore the earphones out and tossed my most cherished possession back onto the clothes covered in mouse droppings. I gasped for air, and my heart raced.

“Grace.” I heard a deep, reassuring grumble from the doorway. It tore me from the dark pit of my mind, not letting the oncoming anxiety attack overwhelm me.

I swept my gaze across the room, which was much worse than the hole I’d been imprisoned in. That had been clean—no rodents shitting all over the place, and no toxic mold in the dishes or the glasses.

Not that I wanted to go back…

My new room had no wardrobe—or a dresser, for that matter. All it had was a stinky, worn mattress on the floor.

Jamie and Cyrus were standing next to each other in silence as I passed them with a probing glance. I continued exploring the house.

Jamie’s room had a worn single bed with sticky spots of dirt. He didn’t have a wardrobe, either—only an old TV and the PlayStation he had gotten from our parents, on a shabby table.

I went into Nikky’s bedroom, which was the biggest, cleanest, and most tasteful room. It had a double bed, a huge wardrobe filled with glittering clothes, and a dresser with a mirror, covered in cosmetics.

The toilet was in the bathroom. The old tap dripped, the white metal bathtub was gray with dirt, its inside yellow with limescale. The sink had dried patches of toothpaste, the comb was clogged with long strands of hair, and the trash can was full of bloody tampons.

Despite the sight, my stomach growled.

“Are you hungry?” my brother asked.

“Yup,” I said, nodding, even though I could’ve thrown up. However, that toilet didn’t even deserve to be vomited on. It was disgusting.

“I’ll make you a sandwich,” Jamie said enthusiastically, and left us alone with Cyrus.

“Grace.” Cyrus said my name softly and leaned in close, intimately.

“I know it was me who got you here, but…” He looked around. “Are you sure you want to stay here? You don’t have to. I can talk to some people to help you get back on your feet, in a place that isn’t like this.”

I liked the thought of moving to a more homey house, but I couldn’t leave my siblings on their own—not after all we had been through.

“They are my family. They are all I have left. I’ll be okay.”

“Okay,” he sighed. “I have to go now, but I’ll pick you up tomorrow.”

“Why?”

He entered the bathroom to stand closer to me and lowered his voice.

“I’ll take you to a doctor.”

“A doctor?” I asked, my brow furrowing.

“Yeah. To check you out. For five years, you were…” He halted. “Don’t worry, everything will go according to the book. And this will be evidence against Chase Baker.”

“Do I have to go to a dentist, too? Are my teeth…”

“Those are evidence, too,” he said, nodding. “Take care and try to get some rest.”

“Okay.”

Cyrus left. And I was suffocating in my memories and my grief.