Broken People

Untitled Part 6

"So the last person who talked to Chastity before she disappeared is now dead," Damien says sounding as deflated as I feel.

"That sounds a little messed up doesn't it," I say adding to his skepticism. "Cause of death was a gunshot wound but there were also signs of a struggle."

"So someone wanted her dead."

"But why? Why kill Michelle if Chastity was the one mixed up with some bad people?" I ask as if Damien will know the answer. We sit in the painful silence of a dead-end before I offer up Michelle's address.

"Her house isn't far from here. It's weird, her file says her parents moved but the house is still up for sale," I say.

"So after Michelle died they bolted but couldn't wait long enough for the house to sell," Damien pieces together. "Well the question is, do we go tonight or wait for the morning?"

"It's only a two hour drive back to Philly, we can check the house out now and make it back before Midnight."

Damien takes the exit to Michelle's former home and follows the GPS accordingly. The streetlights dance through the car as the sun begins to set behind the skyscrapers in the distance. The GPS takes us off the main road and through a couple back roads until the trees begin to canopy overtop of us. The moon offers the only relief from the relentless darkness as it peaks through the leaves and illuminates spots of the dirt path.

The end of the road was also the end of the canopied trees as the pathway opened up into a large field that held acres and acres of land.

"Damn," Damien said, "That's kind of creepy."

He wasn't kidding. The house at the end of the driveway that divided the field in half was something out of a horror story. The old wooden porch that wrapped around the house complimented the deteriorating roof and covered windows.

"Well, what do we do now?" he questioned.

"It doesn't look like anyone has been here for awhile. Let's go check the windows."

We walk up the stone steps to the front porch and peer into the dark caverns inside.

"I can't see shit," Damien says as he makes his way to the door, "A few knocks won't hurt anyone." He pounds on the door a few times yelling "FBI, open up!" but to his surprise, it creeks open. "Dude, it wasn't shut all the way," he says in disbelief.

He draws his gun in his hand and walks through the passageway.

"Are you crazy?" I scream-whisper to him, but before he could answer he disappears within the shadows of the house and I have no choice but to follow him.

The house reeks of musk and dust as we creep our way across its worn floorboards. Every step disturbs the silence like a pebble landing in a calm lake. It feels as if these floors haven't been walked for a good while.

I follow closely behind Damien with gun in my hand as we aim to clear the first floor. We first venture through the living room where portraits are aplenty across each and every wall. These paintings feel especially creepy as I maintain eye contact with one of them and it seems to follow my gaze as I cross in front of it. I step to the portrait and reach out my hand until my fingers meet the cool canvas on which the image lies.

The painting immediately falls off the wall and crashes to the floor colliding with the wooden floorboards creating a deafening crack that cuts through the silence of the old house. My heart rate immediately skyrockets as Damien punches my shoulder, scolding me for touching.

"What the hell man?" he chastises, but before he can continue, the clatter of footsteps above us stop us both dead in our tracks.

"You heard that too, right?" I ask, becoming more and more anxious to be in this house. He nods his head ushers toward the staircase I carefully make my way to the bottom of the stairs and look back at Damien who nudges me forward and I begin my ascent up into the darkness of the top floor.