Stains
The House
Knowing I shouldn't, even though I wanted to, I walked into the house. It was quiet inside, lonely. Long abandoned by it's owners, I still felt something being there. I felt the presence of the of the family that once lived there. My family, to be exact. I had moved out of this exact house close to thirty years ago, yet I still remembered all the good memories I'd had here.
Walking from the hallway to what used to be the living room, I looked at where the couch used to be. Smiling, I thought about how much had happened in this very room. My first kiss, for one. John Baker. I was thirteen and it was the worst kiss of my life. I remembered how every Christmas my family and I would have a tree set up right in the center. My two sisters and I would huddle around the tree while my parents sat on the couch sipping coffee and watching the paper fly.
The kitchen came next. Our family always ate together. My mom always made the best dinners, especially on holidays. We'd gather around that table while my father played referee between my sisters and I as we fought and my mother made dinner. When dinner was served, the fighting would always stop because we were just to into our meal to even remember what we were fighting over in the first place.
I looked out the kitchen window to the backyard. Our play set was still there, untouched since those days. I guess no family wanted to live here after what happened, not that I blamed them. I walked to the stairs, listening to the familiar creek as I slowly reached the top. I went to my old room first. It was empty now and the wall paper had long faded with age. I smiled as I dragged my fingertips along the pale pink walls. My bed used to be right there, under that window. The bed my best friend Allie and I used to share whenever she slept over, the bed I sex with my boyfriend in when my parents were at work.
My sisters room came next. The walls were yellow with little flowers. I thought it was adorable when my father first put up the wallpaper, they thought it was gross. I looked at the blue paint stain on the wood floor. Amanda and Jane were painting one night, and that stain had been on the floor ever since. I walked back out into the hall and stared at the last closed door at the end of the hall.
My parents room, the last room in the house that I always visited. I spent less and less time here every year, but I kept up with coming ever anniversary. I had a hard time going in there, and it took a lot of convincing. Slowly, I turned the doorknob and pushed the door open. The hinges groaned with old age, as if it was tired from the events it had seen. I never fully went in, just stood in the doorway; paying my respects to my family.
This was the room they were murdered in. Right here, in my parents bedroom. My eyes were glued to the stains on the floor. These were much bigger then the one in my sisters room, and they weren't paint. These were the stains left behind of my family. They were found by Amanda and Jane's babysitter came over Monday morning. They sat in this room, tied to chairs, for three days before anyone even knew they were gone.
I was away at college, and when I called like I did every day; I just figured they were busy. I kick myself every day for it. Their murder was still out there, alive and well. Or hopefully he was dead, either way I wouldn't stop until he was caught. This is what made me change my major to criminal justice. This is why I worked so hard to become a detective. I had to find the fucker who did this to my family.
My cell rang in my pocket, scaring me to death. I opened it, "Detective Huggent."
"Detective, I need you back here at the station," my Sargent said, "Double homicide."
I flinched at how disgusting the human race was, "I'll be right there." I put my phone away and took one last look at the room. "I'll make him pay, guys. If it's the last thing I do." Then I turned around, gently shutting the door behind me. That was the only door I left closed; my family deserved privacy. I went back down the stairs with new found determination in my heart. I walked down the walkway I used to play hopscotch on and got in my car. I didn't look back as I drove away.
Walking from the hallway to what used to be the living room, I looked at where the couch used to be. Smiling, I thought about how much had happened in this very room. My first kiss, for one. John Baker. I was thirteen and it was the worst kiss of my life. I remembered how every Christmas my family and I would have a tree set up right in the center. My two sisters and I would huddle around the tree while my parents sat on the couch sipping coffee and watching the paper fly.
The kitchen came next. Our family always ate together. My mom always made the best dinners, especially on holidays. We'd gather around that table while my father played referee between my sisters and I as we fought and my mother made dinner. When dinner was served, the fighting would always stop because we were just to into our meal to even remember what we were fighting over in the first place.
I looked out the kitchen window to the backyard. Our play set was still there, untouched since those days. I guess no family wanted to live here after what happened, not that I blamed them. I walked to the stairs, listening to the familiar creek as I slowly reached the top. I went to my old room first. It was empty now and the wall paper had long faded with age. I smiled as I dragged my fingertips along the pale pink walls. My bed used to be right there, under that window. The bed my best friend Allie and I used to share whenever she slept over, the bed I sex with my boyfriend in when my parents were at work.
My sisters room came next. The walls were yellow with little flowers. I thought it was adorable when my father first put up the wallpaper, they thought it was gross. I looked at the blue paint stain on the wood floor. Amanda and Jane were painting one night, and that stain had been on the floor ever since. I walked back out into the hall and stared at the last closed door at the end of the hall.
My parents room, the last room in the house that I always visited. I spent less and less time here every year, but I kept up with coming ever anniversary. I had a hard time going in there, and it took a lot of convincing. Slowly, I turned the doorknob and pushed the door open. The hinges groaned with old age, as if it was tired from the events it had seen. I never fully went in, just stood in the doorway; paying my respects to my family.
This was the room they were murdered in. Right here, in my parents bedroom. My eyes were glued to the stains on the floor. These were much bigger then the one in my sisters room, and they weren't paint. These were the stains left behind of my family. They were found by Amanda and Jane's babysitter came over Monday morning. They sat in this room, tied to chairs, for three days before anyone even knew they were gone.
I was away at college, and when I called like I did every day; I just figured they were busy. I kick myself every day for it. Their murder was still out there, alive and well. Or hopefully he was dead, either way I wouldn't stop until he was caught. This is what made me change my major to criminal justice. This is why I worked so hard to become a detective. I had to find the fucker who did this to my family.
My cell rang in my pocket, scaring me to death. I opened it, "Detective Huggent."
"Detective, I need you back here at the station," my Sargent said, "Double homicide."
I flinched at how disgusting the human race was, "I'll be right there." I put my phone away and took one last look at the room. "I'll make him pay, guys. If it's the last thing I do." Then I turned around, gently shutting the door behind me. That was the only door I left closed; my family deserved privacy. I went back down the stairs with new found determination in my heart. I walked down the walkway I used to play hopscotch on and got in my car. I didn't look back as I drove away.