Not Important

The past is back

I didn't get lost at all, having known where the hangout is for years, being told to remember it like you would remember the back of your hand. It was scorched into my head, and I could, and would, never forget that place.

Standing right in front of the big, old, run-down building, I can't help but feel both scared and satisfied. This place brings so many memories of the things that I did with the gang, and most of it is too horrific to tell. Yet, I find myself mesmerised by it, being drawn to the building that Ed and Nikki covered in graffiti.

The sign on the door, says

Devon, come in to main room.

I open the door, hearing no creak. That's odd. I'm guessing Ed finally got to fixing it. Walking in, I see that it's the same old, blank room. It's got nothing in it, so when police or anybody come across it, they will think that it's empty and uninhabited. I walk through the end doors that had been made to look like part of the wall, which is hard to notice unless you know that it's a door.

I walk through the corridor, walking up to the main rooms door, knowing that I have gone way past the you-can-still-walk-back-out sign. I take a deep breathe and push the door. I find that room looks a little different since I've last came here. They must have gotten a new chair, as Pete, I guess, must have broken the old one by jumping on it, and slashing it when he's angry. Nikki is sat in a corner, on her chair, reading an old magazine. Ed is sat down with a newspaper and a sandwich.

Pete is sharpening his knife, whilst drinking a beer. I can't see Trey at all. And I'm glad.

"Hey", Pete says, noticing my appearance. He stands up, walking to me, and pushing me further in.

"Hey Pete", I say back.

"Look who came crawling back", Nikki says, smirking at me before turning back to her magazine.

"Shut it, Nikki. Devon came back to us and we should be glad", Ed says, standing up to greet me. He slaps me on the back, hard. I'd forgotten about how he always does that.

"Come on. Trey's just running a little late", Pete says, telling me to grab a seat. That's odd, as well. He's never late. In fact, if he's not on time, he's early.

So, I sat down in an old chair, and waited for Trey to walk through the door.

Pete's phone started ringing, and he picked it up, answering it.

"Hello...yep...she is.......okay", I hear Pete say, before hanging up and putting his phone back into his pocket.

Pete turned to me, and I knew that he had just spoken to Trey.

"He said for you to go to his room", Pete says, not having to ask of I remember the way. I remember it.

I had been to Trey's room many times. It was his home: he lived here. We would sit in his room, thinking up plans, talking, and other things that I am not proud of, and regret.

Standing up, I walk out, saying goodbye to the guys. I make my way down the corridor, and towards a cupboard that was old, the paint peeling, and one of the ends chipped. I open it up, and run my hands over the wood at the back of the cupboard. I find the small line that runs from the top of the cupboard, right in the middle, and all the way down. I grip the right side and pull it away, revealing a secret way. I step through, finding myself in the small room filled with plastic garden chairs, and bloodied floors from ages ago, when Trey lost his senses. I look to my right to find another door, one with a bullet hole at the top in the left corner, from when he tried to shoot a guy that was threatening to tell about our hangout.

He died.

I knock on the door now, waiting for him to answer. I hear a muffled voice telling me to come in, and even though his voice is muffled, my skin still turns ice cold at his voice. I open the door, finding that Ed must have fixed the door, because the last time I was here, it creaked, and we had never been able to afford professional help. Anyway, Ed was amazing at fixing things, and he costs nothing.