A murder in the mountains

Trees

I've always liked trees. I'm not sure why. They just seem to calm me. The way they flow in the wind and dance in the sunsets. I would always lie in bed and watch the trees during sunsets when I was younger. You could only see the silhouettes against the bright colourful sky, they had been my favourite thing to photograph when I was a teen. Just the pure tranquility of them brought me peace. Watching the soft movements of each individual leaf pick up pace when the wind got harsh.  In a sense watching them gave me the little patience I have.

But it wasn't just the trees movements and 'vibe' that I liked. It was the birds I could hear and the crickets that would accompany them. Not one memory that I own with trees doesn't have crickets in the background, whether it be my mind overlapping the sound of them from my past on top of the visual memories I have, or that I've never had true silence surrounding me.

Until now. The trees didn't seem as calm. And the birds didn't seem as loud. Nothing seemed the same. People may say that no where is going to be the same, but no matter where I lived in the country the birds were always loud, and the trees were always calm. Yes, these trees are near the ocean but the wind isn't harsh. Rather soft actually.
Noise.
It still surrounds me. But not in the same way. Not in a way where I want to hear it, not in a way that it reassures me everything's okay. This noise only reassures the existence of things around me. Not the existence of life, just... things.

The bed I'm in doesn't serve me as much comfort as what I'm used to.  It's soft and squishy in all the wrong places and then hard and lumpy in all the left over space. The grey sheets that tangled in my legs were scratchy and prickly, almost as if they had been made to take off the first layer of my skin. Not like the sheets I had at all the hotels I stayed at, or at home.

My pillow was okay, old but bearable, but were as I usually used two pillows I was only supplied with one.
Under a new light and new eyes this small cottage didn't seem so great. Last night I saw plush cushions on new couches and now I see torn threads and holes in the couches and cushion fillings leaking out of the cases.
The flooring isn't a hard wood floor with nice finish, it's a cheap light weight floor that looked as if I would fall through to the first floor if I walked to fast or put my foot down to heavily.

Readjusting to my surroundings I found my self in the kitchen, which like all the other rooms, had changed. The benches weren't clean, the sinks not pristine and the chairs not the same.
William wasn't inside. I wished he was, it would have reassured me that I wasn't kidnapped in the night and taken to some evil master minds hide out with his cheap leather couches and fake gold tables.
My feet were bare on the unfamiliar floors, cold and with hesitance I began to walk around the ground level of a now shabby cottage in the middle of nowhere. Now beginning to think of if, that was a very bad idea, I mean, I walked into the woods with a person I had known for like a day. I'm insane. I'll just go write my own death certificate now.
But back to my life now because I can worry about death later.

Faint words wafted through the walls of the cottage, they got louder and louder the closer I got to the front door. It sounded as if it was a one sided conversation, possibly a phone convo. DING DING DING. I'm right what do I win.
William was on his phone, somehow with reception talking to someone in a very 'hush hush mother ducker' voice. I listened in being the snoop I am.
"The drugs are running low, she's gonna start to remember the days soo-" he didn't finish his sentence. I guess the person on the other end said something. "Yes, yes I understand" he looked worried. I wondered what poor person they are drugging?
Will was holding a small bottle with a large tag with writing on it. I couldn't read all of it but what I saw said '
benzodia-' the rest is unknown to me. It had my name written under it. It was probably just what they used on me whilst I was out. I felt sorry for the girl they are drugging but if I'm alive and well she'll be fine too.
Well that's what I convinced myself.

A/N: I know it's really short but what do you guys think? Do you like the new writing style? Should I break fourth wall more often like she's talking directly to you? Also what do you thinks happening? Who do you think that girl if that they are drugging?