Displaced ↠ BTVS [1]

eight; broken scene

"Don't you worry your pretty little mind, people throw rocks at things that shine."
- Taylor Swift, "Ours"

After searching for over an hour, (Giles had decided that I could continue my interviews, while he did research, Anyway; I didn't know my way around Sunnydale, seeing as how it didn't exist when I was born. Also, Giles is bad with directions.) I had found the Maclay household.

It wasn't much of a house, really. It was fairly small, and lots and lots of paint had peeled off of the outer walls. Shingles had fallen of off the roof, the grass in the yard was patchy and yellow, with only a little green on the edges. The name 'MACLAY' was engraved in bold letters on the wall next to the door, painted over in black, which was also fading. There was a trailer parked in the back.

My initial first thought was "Tara. Tara doesn't deserve this. She deserves better."

I stood for a moment, just staring.

I quickly thought of the (lame) story I had been explaining, to tell at the door. From what I had gathered, her "family" wasn't home. At least, I hoped. Now that I think of it, I had heard some yelling while passing by the house earlier when I was looking around Sunnydale earlier. But the house was quiet now.

I slowly walked up to the door and on to the porch.

After standing there for about a minute, I finally gained up the courage to knock on the door.

"Just do it." I thought, as I felt my hand collide with the wooden door.

I waited a moment. It was quiet, except for the occasional car passing by or a dog barking from across the street.

The door opened.

It revealed a person that looked like Tara. But it wasn't. This was not the Tara I knew. The Tara standing in front of me was different. She had red and purple bruises on her face and body. A scratch on her cheek. The blonde hair that usually bounced on her shoulders now had knots and snarls, it looked as thought it hadn't been brushed for days. The green eyes that were usually filled with life and happiness looked at me - through me - with sadness and fear flickering in them. And the lips that usually presented a happy, lopsided grin were straight, and showed no sign of emotion
whatsoever.

"I did this."

I wanted to cry.

"I did this to Tara."

I wanted to break down and sit on the creaky porch steps and sob my eyes out.

I didn't.

"Um - hi. I-I'm interviewing neighbors for the school n-newspaper - about their l-l-lives and I-I was wondering if, maybe, I could ask you a few questions?"

"Great job Paige, you're really blowing it! You'd think you would have it down by now, but nooo." I thought in my head.

"Oh, shut up." I mumbled under my breath, just loud enough so that only I could hear.

She looked around, as if making sure that no one else was around.

"Uhh...w-well..."

I gave her a hopeful look.

"Okay."

And then she did the unthinkable.

"Y-you can come in."