Hush.

29::Inferno

When I was twelve years old, on Valentine's Day, I found a crumpled paper heart in my locker. At first I thought it was a joke, because I didn't exactly have a lot of friends back then, and certainly not a crush. Heck, I still bought that boys had cooties. Then again, my view on the opposite sex was a bit warped, all thanks going to my father.

I brought the letter to my favorite teacher, Miss Albert, who was young and fresh out of school. She always had a bright smile and a cheery disposition, and her eyes twinkled like stars. I was pretty quiet in middle school. I liked to keep to myself and just write, because even then I strived to be the best author. Miss Albert was my English teacher, and told me one time that even though technically she couldn't pick any favorites, I was hers. She knew about a lot of the crap other kids dished out at me. I found refuge more than a couple times within her classroom.

So I took the little heart to her, hoping she could make some sense of it, or point me in the proper direction. I would always remember our conversation, the first talk about love I ever heard. My parents hated each other, and would sooner gut the other with the kitchen knife than even lie and say "I love you".

"He must like you," Miss Albert said, smiling in that infectious way she had. "Is there a name?"

"No," I had replied. "It just fell out of my locker."

Miss Albert hopped up on her desk, crossing her legs. She liked sitting that way, instead of in a chair. "Then I suppose you have a secret admirer, Annie Davis."

I had blushed fire engine red at her claim, an action that set my English teacher off roaring with laughter. When she sobered, we talked for the rest of lunch-I often chose to spend that thirty-minute chunk of free time with her-and I came to the conclusion that I would burn the scrap of paper as soon as I had a match. I didn't need any secret admirers. That was just crazy.

"One day you'll understand," I remembered Miss Albert saying before I could leave. The bell had rung and I was gathering my stuff together.

"Understand what?" I had asked.

"Love," she clarified wistfully. "You'll find somebody and fall in love, and then you'll get it. It's the craziest thing, what it can make us do."

I wrinkled my nose. "Then I don't ever want to fall in love."

Miss Albert laughed, jumping off the desk. "Oh, trust me. When you find it, it's worth the pain."

Her words still couldn't convince me. When I returned home to my parents arguing, I immersed myself in the reality I knew; the hell I was familiar with.

And I burned that crumpled paper heart.

~*~

I was having a hard time believing that the dilipadated shack in front of me was inhabited. In fact, I was questioning whether or not it was even a shack at all. Maybe just a slumped mistake of a house that the builders left behind.

I checked the address again, blew out a long breath, and tucked the picture back in my pocket. If this was a loose end, I had no idea what I would do. Maybe string up the white flag and call surrender. At least then I wouldn't have to pussy-foot around and wait for a bullet to pierce through my skull. I could see it coming.

The neighborhood wasn't much of a neighborhood, either. I was pretty sure it could accurately be labeled "Ghost Town", as I knew when residences were abandoned and this place gave me the heebie-jeebies.

I jumped when my foot caught a crumpled aluminum can, sending the thing skittering across the street. I forced my racing heart to slow its pace. This was crazy. It was a freaking can.