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That looks nice.
The bathroom itself is large, with a double sink, linen closet, and a jetted tub. None of it really looks used at all, actually. There is no toothbrush sitting in its stand. No towel that was hung to dry. Nothing in the small waste basket. It's like this place is one of the model homes my mom has brought me to.
Staged.
Where is the stepbrother?
My head pops out of the bathroom, and I look down the hall I have yet to explore. Pressing on my tiptoes, I walk as quietly as I can to the next door. It's closed, and I press my ear against the wood, listening for any sounds.
Nothing.
I think about opening it, even just trying, but the feeling of being watched burns into the back of my head. I twist, my head glancing over my shoulder as I look for some creep lingering behind me.
No one.
The hallway keeps going, everything dark and quiet. I stand there, in the middle of the hallway on the black marbled floors, when a low groan echoes down the hall, like someone is leaning back in a rocking chair. Or someone stepped on a creaky floorboard. Except the floors aren't wood.
My back twitches with a shiver, and I turn around, rushing back into my room, kicking my bag out of the doorway and swiftly shutting the door. I lean my back against it, scared of nothing and everything.
This is an old house, of course there're going to be weird as fuck noises.
After my heart settles, I press off the door, walking over to my window and looking into the backyard. The sun is going down, and the forest is looking even more doomy than it was earlier. I watch between the trees, and my skin grows cold.
I swear I see shadows in there.
My eyes raise to the sky, seeing dark gray clouds rolling in, clashing with the next one as they grow bigger, darker, sinking lower into the sky. Like I can reach my hand up and my fingers will swirl into them.
I see a flash of lightning, followed by a clap of thunder.
Stepping away from the window, I walk to my bed, already made with my comforter from back home. I slip between my sheets, pressing my face against my pillow that smells so familiar my eyes burn. But instead, I close them, curling my arms around the softness. Just as the rain starts pelting my window, I fall asleep.
4
MALIK
The rain pounds against the walls of the abandoned house, drops pelting through the broken windows and soaking the ground beneath me. I sit on a broken couch, the old thing stained and ripped from years of wear and neglect. One of the sides is completely broken off, laying on the ground beside me. The entire thing sits slanted, so I have to tilt as I sit so I don’t fall over.
"Shit, we're going to get drenched walking back to the car," Felix says as he walks down the stairs. His hair is damp, and he shakes the droplets off. Half of the upstairs is missing a roof. There's no spot in this place that isn't exposed to the outside. But it's still our secret place in the middle of the woods. The place where we go to fuck around when we don't want to be around our parents, or anyone else for that matter.
I shrug, taking a drag of my cigarette. "Doesn't matter to me."
He lifts his eyebrows. "You know, your new roommate should be at your house by now."
I know. I fucking know. Hence the reason I'm sitting here, in an abandoned house at night, in the rain, instead of at my house.
We left school halfway through the day, because I do whatever the fuck I want, and we came here to chill. We've been drinking, smoking, doing whatever we please, but we don't usually hang out this long, and I know the guys are ready to go. We haven't eaten all day, and it's getting cold outside. This abandoned shithole doesn't block the wind or the rain, and we're vulnerable to all the damn elements.
But the last thing I feel like doing is going back home to be with my dad, his whore, and the whore’s child. Sorry, but I'd rather hang out in this piece of shit and have my balls freeze until they're numb.
"What do you think she looks like?" Felix plops down on the seat next to me, the couch so uneven he slopes toward the floor.
"I don't really care." I flick my cigarette into an empty can at my feet.
Footsteps pound down the stairs, and soon Levi and Atticus are in front of us, dripping wet.
"It's a bad fucking storm." Atticus stares out the window at the trees blowing in the wind. The branches scrape up against the side of the house, making scratching noises that make me seriously uneasy. The hair on the back of my neck stands on end.
"All the storms are bad here," Levi says, taking a pull of his beer. "But I'm fucking hungry, and I'm ready to head home."
