present day.
My black converse hit the concrete stairs as I jogged down them. the bottom of my soles had been scribbled with names along the white side of the shoe and different signatures. The day was quickly ending and I knew that there was a slight amount of time I had left before I could go back to my home. Though my home never felt like home.
All I knew was, a few weeks after I ran away, only with a small bag of my belongings and other things which I had bought from the money I saved up from working at Sally's, a small coffee shop near the school I was in before I dropped out, and I still worked there, was that they had been arrested for drug possession. Marie Oceania Kingsley and Freman Jim Kingsley. I remembered those names, and I couldn't forget them, though I was doing just great without them.
I had just finshed my shift at Sally's the gray apron still around my body, tied at the waist as i ran towards my house. It was a pleasant looking house, the white brick and black windowsills decorated the house, concealing what it was. My personal hell. Maybe I'm dramatic, hell if I didn't know that already. I had the key for the door in my apron pocket, and it felt like it was burning it my pocket. I reached in, feeling around towards the metal pocket, the copper coins jingling around. Tips hadn't been good today, and recently there wasn't much customers has h there used to be, turns out a apparent five star restaurant was opened in the town nearby so most out our people flock by there.
I hate people like that, making a store right nearby and I heard daddy's an anthropologist or some shit. wow I just got really defensive. you can probably tell by now humor is my defensive mechanism. I pulled out the key and placed it in the hole, (that's what she said) and pulled it to the right jerking it. As the first thing I saw when I pushed open the door was the yellow denied police entry tape, my hopes weren't up. I pushed through the tape and stepped up the stairs, the broken glass on the top stair remained. I guess they hadn't gone this far yet. I went up and the smell was nice, like Marie's perfume she used to spray, it's smelt like roses and fresh vainalla, which would mask up the scent of drugs. They never did the drugs, but were rather a pawn for a bigger establishment who sold them, and they were the carriers. It was a whole web and barely anyone got caught.
The room I stayed in was untouched, the yellowing paint peeling off the door as I opened it, I expected to see my room, two mattresses layer flat of top of each other, or maybe even the nightstand I bought from the garage sale and painted a green color but instead I was greeted to an empty room. The gray carpet looked freshly vacuumed, and all my stuff was gone, the window to the room was opened and gave it a chilly breeze. Honestly with the lights off, and the wind being blown into the dark room I almost lost my shit and peed myself. I looked down and saw that there was a envelope with red ink strewn over it. The writing look horrible, the words were clustered together and the lines interacted as I tilted my head to look at it better. What the fuck?
It probably wasn't for me, no one knew I lived here, I told all my friends before I dropped out that was I moving away to some town in Indiana. Frankly I couldn't care but why would they leave it there? I sighed as I realized that this whole trip was a waste of time I greudling trudged back down the stairs, making sure to avoid the glass and went back down and left the house, through the way home, the small apartment I rented out last year without them knowing, one thought never left my mind.
why was there an envelope in my room.
don't steal my shitt! thankssss
