STREET RAT, jj [ON HIATUS]

synley darling .

21] SYNLEY DARLING

     LATER THAT DAY, everyone was doing their own thing. With the storm that was rolling towards the Outer Banks, it had put operation gold hunt on pause. Even if they could get a boat that far off the coast, the churning waters would never allow the drone to pick up reliable footage of the wreck's whereabouts.

Synley took the rain check as an opportunity to settle her own storms. The ones that had terrorized her in her sleep, leaving her with nothing but questions in her wake. The death of her father was like a story without the middle bits. She knew the beginning, and regrettably enough could never forget the end. But the why and how, the parts she so desperately tried to reach in those shadowy remnants at night, never revealed themselves.

So she found her way onto the front porch steps of the only place that might know how to fill in the gaps. She stared up at the rotting bones of the Brookes house. What was once a beautiful, humble home amongst the rough city of the poor, had started to decay, along with her father. Wherever his soul may rest.

Letting out a shuttering breath, Synley reached into the flower pot that sat at the top of the wooden steps, digging out the house keys she knew would be there. She never understood why her mom locked up in the first place. It wasn't like there was much for intruders to get to anymore, and anyone that did come wondering in had to be better than the cockroaches she let crawl into her bed.

She didn't know exactly what she was looking for, and when she finally walked into the empty house, she almost didn't know where to start. She guessed her mother's bedroom was good a place as any.

Her nose crinkled as she walked down the long hallway towards the back of the house, readjusting the straps of her bag while she did so. She wasted no time to hesitate once she finally got to the door that used to enclose their bedroom. She opened the door, and a loud creak echoed throughout the walls. Her breath hitched. She hadn't dared stepped foot in here since everything. And..

It was the same as she remembered it. Like nothing had been touched since her father last slept in that large bed. Stuck in awe, Synley ran her finger along the dresser closest to her, peering down at the dust that stuck to her skin. It shouldn't have surprised her, her mother had slept on the couch even after all these years. The only thing missing from the museum that had once been her parent's bedroom was her mother's clothes, which now stayed strung across the living room floor, or in baskets by the dryer.

Eyes burning, Synley moved across the room. She had to stay focused. She didn't have time to be swallowed up with emotions.

"If I was dad, where would I hide shady shit?" Syn mumbled to herself. Bad men, meant dad had bad things. Was involved with bad stuff.  And so she searched for anything that looked out of place. Anything that might mean anything. Under the bed, in the closet, their private bathroom, drawers. She even went as far as searching behind an old painting of the island he had gotten for Christmas one year. Nothing.