Their car was gone. My bike rattled over the ruts in their dirt driveway-path-walkway-thing; the branches of the willow tree touched my skin as if saying hello.
I came to a stop by the door, dropping my bike and walking up the steps. I heard the faint sound of a guitar playing. If I listened closely enough, I could hear the bottles on the bottle tree clinking together, creating a quiet chorus.
No one answered when I knocked, making me frown. Someone was obviously here- I heard the guitar. They were actually pretty good. My best bet was that it was Vivian, since she called me from here and her mom's car is gone.
And if she wasn't answering, then she either didn't hear me, couldn't hear me, or was just ignoring me. With her, I couldn't tell which one.
"Just do it, Greene," I grumbled. "She sounded messed up on the phone. She might need help. Just go through the damn door."
And I did.
The first thing I saw was a broken beer bottle on the floor, glass littering the wood. The ground was darker in some spots, showing that was where the actual beer landed. There was smaller, darker spots scattered around as well. I immediately recognized them as blood.
Well... thaaaaaat can't be good.
"Vivian?" I called nervously as I climbed the stairs. The guitar faltered for a moment before picking up again.
"I know you hear me. Don't ignore me." Shuffling across the hall, I stopped next the chipped door that muted the music. Vivian was most likely in this room.
"Vivian?" I called, pushing the door open with my foot.
I wasn't prepared for what I saw.
The floor was all wet, the droplets of water seeping into the wood. The water was slightly pink, giving away blood was involved. A white sheet covered the bed, smears of red covering the whole thing. Razors littered the floor, most caked in the same red, crusty substance. A knife was resting in the middle of the white and red sheet.
A figure sat on the floor, a wet towel draped over their shoulders. They were soaking wet, and for a moment I thought they had just been in the shower. But then I realized they were fully-clothed. They turned and looked at me, and I almost stepped back.
It was Vivian.
Her eyes were dark and heavy looking, with dark smudges around her eyelids. Tears left trails down her cheeks, and shards of glass were tangled in her wet hair. Her hands were cut open and bleeding, yet she still strummed away at the guitar.
It took me a moment to speak. "What... happened to you...?"
Vivian's eyes were like deep seas. "Why-" she coughed, her voice sounding like an old frog. "-are you here?"
I took a step closer, still staring at her. I didn't want to look at her room. Especially that sheet. "You called me. I thought you were in trouble and needed help, so I-"
"I don't need help!" she snapped. Her lips trembled. "Yes, I do..." Then she shook her head. "Go home, Greene."
"I'm not leaving you like this."
She turned and glared at me, eyes starting to water. "You don't have your scuba gear this time."
Oops. "Beep. Scuba diver Greene, reporting for duty. Beep."
"Too late."
Vivian turned again with an annoyed sniff. To be honest, that kinda ticked me off. I took two big steps toward her and turned on my heel, crouching in front of her. I grabbed the guitar and, as gently as I could, took it from her grasp and set it behind me.
