That day...
That day Wally would never forget, vivid memories flashing through his mind.
The day his entire family disappeared.
...
He was 9 at the time, and they were simply doing their everyday things. His mom was washing the dishes, his father right next to her, smiling and chatting as he helped. His older brother doing his homework upstairs, with loud music blaring upstairs.
Wally was scribbling on a piece of paper, trying to get his cursive r's and s's just right. He bit his lip in concentration, the grip on his blunt little pencil tightening. He tuned everything out. Every little sound, noise, and voice, trying to get that stupid curl to go straight.
And he did, sitting back and grinning with relief. "Momma!" He called, wanting to show is accomplishment with her. "Momma! Come quick!" There was no response, and Wally frowned.
"Momma?" He called again, standing up. "Mom?" He scampered over to the kitchen, and gasped. A plate was lying on the ground, untouched and filthy.
"Momma!" He chirped, glancing around. "You dropped something!"
He was met with silence.
Wally felt a sense of dread no 9-year-old ever should've felt. "M-Momma?" He whispered, "Stop hiding... th-this isn't funny!"
He shivered slightly. "Papa?" No response either.
He ran all through the house, and stopped at his brother's bedroom. Fear crawled down his spine. "M-Mack? C-can I come in?"
It was only then that he realized how eerily quiet the house had become.
He banged on the door frantically. "Mack! P-Please! Momma and Papa are-!"
The door swing open, not locked like it should've been. The laptop was still on, but left untouched. Wally raced over to the desk, and gazed at the strange red stuff covering the keycaps, shining in the dim light from the desk lamp.
He choked back a scream. It was blood, covering the keyboard.
Wally turned back and bolted out of the house, throwing open the door, tears running down his face as he screamed and cried for help, that his family had died, that he was scared.
That was the day that he lost his family, presumed dead, to something even the police said they didn't know about.
...
Wally breathed carefully, already feeling uncomfortable.
"This was the house?" His adoptive mother asked, as she set the last box down next to him. "It looks nice."
"Yeah, mother." He smiled. "It's my childhood home." He exhaled slowly, "Lotta bad memories here, though." He reached into his pocket, and brought out the keys. "But I own it now, and it's in pretty good shape anyways."
He paused, before whirling around, and pulled the woman into a tight hug. "Thank you for watching out for me all those years." He said quietly. "I'll miss you."
"Aww, sweetie, no need for that!" She chuckled, "You're a big, strong 21 year old man!" She lightly kissed him on the forehead. "See you around?"
Wally blushed and grinned. "You bet."
He waited until she drove away, before taking the keys from his sweaty palms, and nervously unlocking the door.
The door creaked open, and Wally winced. Gonna have to get that fixed soon.
He surveyed the house. The previous owner didn't do half bad, actually. Dust had just started to settle on the floor, and the windows were wide open, letting the afternoon sunshine pour into the house.
