The Polaroid Girls

Chapter 30

A/N: Hello my lovelies and Happy Tuesday! I hope you all had a great week last week and an awesome weekend. This week's chapter is back in Royce and Abigail's switching POV. And it's a rough one--please hang in there.

Also--Also--ALSO!!!! GUYS. There. Are. Only. TWO. Chapters. Left. (And an epilogue, but who's counting?) !!!!!!!!

I can't believe this story is nearly over. It's felt so long and yet, so quick I can't even fathom it. I'm gushing--ignore me. You guys rock, seriously. And I hope you love this story as much as I do. Please enjoy the last few chapters and please, please let me know what you think.

Question of the week: (Have I asked this already?) What is your favorite color?

Mine's yellow because--YellowIsAHappyColor. For real. I love it. What about you guys?

As always, thank you for all of your support and don't forget to vote, comment, follow, and share this story so it's recommended to more readers, gets more views, and I as the author, get more feedback! ^u^ I love you guys, have a great week, and happy reading! 

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Royce turned his lights off two blocks from Ethan and Laina's cabin. He stopped on the street outside the house, not wanting to tip Ethan off by the gravel crunching in the driveway.

Royce turned off his car before sliding out of his seat and clicking the door shut behind him as quietly as possible. He silently stepped over to the front door and stopped on one side as the sheriff stopped on the opposite side. He glanced over his shoulder at the large curtained bay window, illuminated with light from the inside. It was nearly eleven thirty at night. He knew Laina was a morning bird and he wasn't sure about Ethan, but someone was up.

He slid his gun out of its holster and turned off the safety before giving one final look to the sheriff. The man nodded once. Royce reached for the door knob. He turned it once but it resisted. Damn it, he thought, so much for being quiet.

Royce moved to the center of the doorway. With one swift kick followed by a throaty grunt, he forced the door open. He instantly pulled his gun back up and stepped inside. The sheriff stayed close to his back as they glanced around the room, poised for anything, but it was empty. Royce went through the kitchen, pantry, and closet at the foot of the stairs while the sheriff looked in the first floor bathroom and visually swept the backyard, but again, it was empty.

He stopped at the foot of the stairs and nodded toward them. The sheriff nodded mutely and followed two steps behind as Royce made his way up the ungodly creaky steps. At the landing he found the two doors on each side closed. He took a breath and pushed the one on the right open to find another small bathroom. It was empty.

Taking one more steadying breath, he raised his gun and pushed open the last door in the house. He stepped inside and his gun arm dropped at what he found.

It was empty of the two people he hoped to find. Instead, he found clothes, shoes, bloody rags, and syringes strewn about the floor, knots of cloth around the bed frame, a pile of vomit on the mattress, and...blood on the blankets. The sheriff stepped into the room a second later.

"By God..." The sheriff flipped the light switch behind him.

Royce's eyes flared around the bedroom. What in god's name happened here?

Royce stepped over to the bed and pulled up one of knotted cloths hanging loosely around the wooden frame. He flipped it over in his hand until he saw blood rimming the bottom part of it. His throat bobbed tightly as he walked around the bed and studied each of the cloths. The two at the top had blood grazing them but the two at the foot of the bed were clean. He stared at them, his mind reeling from the conclusion he didn't want to believe and yet couldn't ignore. The pile of vomit at the head of the bed was just another indicator of the worst possible outcome.