One Last Dance

One Last Dance (Chapter 24)

LAURA's POV:

~A Week After Raura Breakup~

"Why are we doing this, again?"

"We're trying to face our past to try and learn from it. Remember?"

"Oh, right."

Vanessa opened the door to my parked car and climbed out.

I climbed out as well.

We walked up the driveway of the familiar house and walked up to the door.

I looked at Vanessa and held her hand before knocking on the door.

No one opened up.

I bit my lip. "Oh well, no one's home. Now, how about we go back to my place?"

Vanessa raised and eyebrow and pulled me back as I started walking back to the car.

She took hold of the doorknob and turned it. The door opened and Vanessa took a step inside.

My eyes widened. "Ness?! What the hell are you doing?"

She turned to look at me. "I'm going in."

She walked deeper into the house until she was no longer in my sight.

I carefully and nervously took a step into the dark, alcohol-enduced, trashy house that I once called home and softly called out, "Ness? Where'd you go?"

She didn't answer.

It was dark but I knew I was stepping on glass because whenever I would take a step further into this place, I'd hear glass shatter from under my shoes.

"Vanessa," I called out again. "Where are you?"

Again, no answer.

I looked around me.

I was in the kitchen.

I remembered times we'd get hurt down here.

Like when our parents made us eat dinner down here because company came over, they'd beat us in front of their stupid drunk buddies.

And whenever we were about to leave to go somewhere, our parents would stop us, give us a firm curfew and when we'd break it, they'd hit us with one of their stupid glass bottles.

Of course, there were a few times, my parents never hurt us. They kind of just left us alone if we left them alone.

I wish that had always been the case.

I sighed and moved on to the living room.

The couch was still there in the corner of the room.

I carefully walked over to it and pulled the left bottom cushion up. It was hard to see because it was dark but the huge blood stain was still there.

One day when I was about seven or eight, I had found a cat roaming around in the yard.

There had been signs around saying someone had lost a cat and this kitten fit the picture and description perfectly.

So I took hold of the cat and brought it inside, told Vanessa that it was the missing cat from the posters.

Vanessa and I tried sneaking outside to get hold of one of those posters so we knew who to call or who to return the cat to.

When our dad caught us leaving with the cat, he hit both of us, started yelling about rabies or something of the sort.

He took the cat, brought it outside, and took his gun with him.