The Seventh One

I got up out of bed in the morning and stretched. I have absolutely nothing to do today. Nothing.
I got dressed and had stretched my shower as far as I could. Then when nothing lasted I went for my office and went back to work writing. Like it's been my dream forever. As long as I've known Billie to write an book. I'd done an load of drafts in the past and never found anything I really liked. But now I'm stretching my draft out a bit and hoping it goes farther than the others. My praying may be wasted in the end. I went to work typing. The soft clicking of the keys. Those were the only sounds in the quiet house. Far too big for me. Left to me by my deceased husband. He passed over four years ago, we had moved to Oakland and been fairly close to the Armstrong family an good five years prior until then. 
The clock ticked loudly on the wall. Almost unnerving as I tried to concentrate. Then all of the sudden, there was an loud crash from the kitchen. All I had to say for that one was that Billie better not have broken my new coffee pot. I sighed and ignored it. This was practically his daily game. Sneak into my house, sneak up on me, then blame it on me if I break something... Gah, that dude.
I went to work typing again. finally losing myself in the silence. Becoming quite interested in the draft I had begun. I wrote one more sentance when I heard another loud crash. It sounded like glass. I could hear broken bits sliding across the wood floor of the kitchen. What the hell was he doing? He hadn't even told me that he was coming over. Let alone told me he was going to destroy my house when he did.
I felt an slight spasm of panic in my chest as I slowly got to my feet. My footsteps inaudible as I tiptoed down the thickly carpeted hall to the living room. Looming in the corridor, I peeked out around the corner. Empty except for my glass china closet. Had been tipped and shattered shards of glass splintered across the wood floors. My eyes widened in horror. Billie would never do this. No matter it it would be the ultimate prank or not. He isn't that immature.
I swallowed. About to walk out into the foyer when another crash sounded. Louder this time, it came from behind me. Down the hall. I blinked a few times. It couldn't be Billie could it?  The only way to the room it came from was through the hall I now blocked. I didn't stay another second. I avoided the glass as I tiptoed over and grabbed my purse off the coffee table and silently made my way out the front door. Running to my car and getting in. Not hesitating to start the engine and drive away. I drove two blocks away and pulled over. I grabbed my cell phone out of my bag and dialed Billie. My anger flowing when he groggily answered. “What Amy?” he sounded like he had still been asleep.
“What the hell Billie?!” I yelled,  looking out the windshield. Doing everything I could to keep my voice from trembling. Praying it was just an sick prank he was playing on me and nothing more.
“What?” he asked. Genuinely concerned.
“What the hell where you doing in my house breaking my shit literally like five minutes ago?”
He was quiet for an long moment “Are you drinking?” he asked seriously. I looked out the windshield incredulously. “Are you fucking kidding me?!”
He went quiet, then answered me again “How can you accuse me when I haven't even left bed yet? You didn't even see who did it.” he stated smugly.
“Well that's just great” I muttered. Looking down “Well some dope was in my house and flipped my china closet.”
“And it didn't just fall on it's own?” Billie asked. Thoroughly annoyed.
I shook my head “No Cupcake. It didn't.” I said sarcastically. He wouldn't believe me. I don't really know why I even decided to tell him in the first time. I'll face it myself. I called the police station and drove back home. Pulling to an stop along the curb across the street and waited for them to show. After they raided the house and found no sources of entry where anyone could have gotten in, they asked me an few questions and examined the broken china closet crashed on the foyer. It was an little unnerving to be standing there at all. In the house that suddenly gave me the creeps. They went down the hall to the room that I'd heard the third crash but had been to chicken to investigate.
They're brows pulled together in horror as I slinked up the hallway and peeked over their shoulder at the item of interest. It was my husband's trunk. It had belonged to his great great grandfather and was passed down to him. We never had children therefor no one else to hand it down too. It was terrible looking! The smooth varnished wood was splintered wildly in even direction like someone was grinding it with an blender. My eyebrows pulled together in confusion as I looked down at it. It was large and and brown. Faded, best of all, really old.
Who and what could have done this? It's ridiculous! I felt nauseated at the thought of even being alone in the house now. I walked away, looking to see if anything was missing in the house. There was nothing. They eventually asked permission to open it. But I already knew what was in there, nothing. They undid the latch and lifted the lid. I looked over. Suddenly freaked out. There was an stack of documents and trinkets and all sorts of things in there. Things I'd never even seen before. An chill ran up my spine as I dropped to my knees and looked at it all. An worn, creased document on top had handwritten cursive writing on it. Signed at the bottom, J.K Scott. I felt the blood run from my face. Glad I was already sitting. J.K Scott... Was my husband.