His [The Cellar sequel]

You'll Always Be Mine - Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine – Down To The Cellar

Summer’s POV

I stood frozen beside Becca. The cellar door was staring back at us, almost tauntingly. It was open slightly, the small one inch gap allowed me to see a strip of the wall. Police tape was hung from either side of the wall next to the door at waist height.

“We have to,” Becca whispered, as much to herself as me.

Slowly, I reached my hand out and placed it on the door. My heart immediately started racing. With my now shaking hand, I pushed forward. The heavy door opened further, just enough for us to comfortably pass through.

“Are you ready?” I asked Becca.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see her shake her head gently. “I guess.”

“Neither am I.” Gripping Becca’s hand, I stepped forward first, bending down past the tape. We were only at the top of the stairs, you couldn’t even see anything properly from here but it still made me feel sick. I never thought I would have to come down here again, I didn’t want to but he had to pay. Rose and Louise couldn’t die for nothing. Becca flicked the light on.

Taking the first step down was the hardest. I’d spent eight months wanting to get out of this room and now I was going back in voluntarily. It seemed wrong. Our footsteps echoed in the empty room. It definitely wasn’t as loud before.

I held my breath and focused on one spot on the wall as we made our way to the bottom of the stairs. Becca’s hand was shaking in mine, or that could just be me.

It took me a few minutes to turn around; the first thing that came into view was the kitchen. The place where we prepared every meal and ate our food, it was also the place where Clover murdered Heather on my first day down here.

The smell was faintly the same, the amount of detectives, police and forensic officers that had passed through had tainted the original lemon fresh smell. Things were out of place too, the utensil holder was the wrong side of the cooker and the table had been moved to the left, it was no longer in line with the edge of the counter.

Becca squeezed my hand to get my attention. “Where should we go first?”

“I don’t know.” There was one place I definitely didn’t want to go, in that room. “The bedroom?” I didn’t look at Becca; my eyes were glued to all the things that were wrong with the kitchen, so I didn’t know if she nodded or shook her head.

It was strange; the need to clean and put everything back in its place was so overwhelming. We didn’t need to do that anymore though, we weren’t trapped down here and there would be no consequences for not doing it, but I still felt the same panic that I did before.

I forced myself to walk through the kitchen. We slowly made our way past the lounge area and stopped at the open bedroom door. The four beds were bare, the mattress sat on the bed frames still but the sheets, pillows and quilts had gone. Our matching outfits were hanging up in the open wardrobes. It wasn’t until I looked down that I saw my whole body was shaking now and not just my hands.

I sat down on the bed that was mine for eight long months. I would rather die than spend another night in this room. “Where are the sheets?” Becca asked, standing in the middle of the room and looking around. She looked almost lost, like she was struggling being down here too. Did she also feel the need to clean up?

Shaking my head, I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I don’t know, I guess the police took them.”

“Why would they want our sheets?”