As It Was (COMPLETED) (wattys2023)

Begin Again

I head nearly sent Garrett home when I saw the front door to my house ajar. The plan had been to drop me off after the long, grueling day I'd had so I could grab a few changes of clothes and talk to my dad before he came to pick me up, but all lights in the house were out-and the deadbolt on the door looked as if it'd been busted.

"Damn." Garrett mumbled as he fell into step beside me, locking the car. I followed his gaze and saw what my eyes hadn't wandered toward upon first glance. The front windows had both been shattered, glass scattered across the ground below, beckoning Garett and I forward. "Ev, maybe we should call the police."

I held up a hand and started forward, but because of his blessing of long legs, he was in front of me in two quick strides but halted to a stop again as soon as he stepped on to the bottom porch step.

I joined him, then quickly looked away when I saw what had been spelled out in dark, crimson red paint across the front porch.

ROT IN HELL

"Everly, let's call the cops." Garrett tried again, looking to me then back at the door. "There could still be someone in there."

I didn't respond, but stepped up on to the porch, over the paint, and nudged the door open wider with my shoe. I felt Garrett at my tail again, and though it didn't help the situation, he was muttering incoherently under his breath about my sanity.

Having lived in this house for months, I crossed the living room in the dark to the lamp, but jumped back as soon as I'd switched it on, letting out a horrified cry.

The entire living room had been destroyed. Razor blades or knives had been taken to the couches and recliner, stuffing pouring out from them. But on top of the destruction was the same crimson paint that'd been on the patio, splashed across the floor, shattered TV screen, demolished couches, and smeared across the photos of Clark my mother had left up.

Knowing he' dstop me if I returned to stand by him at the front door, I started down the hallway to my bedroom. There's nothing left of it, and I'm suddenly glad that I had grabbed all Miles' things a month ago. My computer desk had been broken in half, all the old makeup and art supplies a mess all over the paint-stained carpet. My bed, pillows, and floor were just as red, with the same slashes as the couches on them. I spun on my heel, pushing past Garrett, and stepped into the Master bedroom.

The remainder of the paint seemed to have been used in the room. The entire bed was red, as if someone had bled to death on it. Shredded and destroyed were the linen curtains, comforter, mattress, and all my mother and father's clothes. It wasn't until Garrett let out a quiet whistle that I saw what it was that he was staring at in horror.

In big, bold, messy handwritten letters on the bedroom wall over the bed was,

WE NEED CHANGE. YOU ARE PART OF THE PROBLEM

Below it was all my father's magazines of bullets scattered across the bed, his guns lay in an X in front of the open bathroom door. Peering inside, I found the red finger painted on the mirror.

YOU WILL ALL GO TO HELL

I winced seeing the words, but dodged Garrett's outstretched hand, backing away toward the door quickly.

"Everly!"

I had never been a runner. I'd played Volleyball for my first two years of high school but had nearly failed P.E freshman year because I despised the very thought of it. But right now, that was all I wanted to do. Run. Run until my body gave out and I couldn't think about anything anymore.