The House Of Sins

Chapter 4: The Revealing

He could not believe his eyes, it was beautiful! It was fairly old, the red bricks were crumbling, the old black paint was peeling in places but you could tell it was astonishing when it was new. It was still beautiful now. There seemed to be what were once flower pots but now had nothing growing in them, just black pots hanging from the wall. There was even a welcome mat which, unfortunately, he only found as he tripped over it whilst walking up the stairs,this, of course, made him giggle. When he knelled down to put the mat back into place he found a small silver key. He attached it to the old necklace he had found days ago, for safe keeping.

Assuming someone at least lived in this cabin, he knocked on the door. Patiently he waited for an answer. Apparently these cabin owners didn't know how to even answer the door at this cabin either. Once again, almost like 'de ja vu' of the first day, he looked through the window, to find this time... it looked abandoned. Not only was it free of people but it also had furniture that looked like it was from the 1900s. It may have looked a bit old on the outside, but that couldn't even compare with the state of the inside.

He walked up to the door; he had decided to try doing what he had done last time. The difference being he wasn't scared at all this time. He just grabbed the door handle and tried to open the door but it was locked. Immediately he sighed in frustration. Then he remembered he had a key, so he attempted to unlock the door. When it didn't work he got frustrated and punched the wall not realizing it was a brick wall. He felt a sharp pain and looked down to see a bit blood. He then grabbed his hand and got another idea.

He decided to walk to the back of the cabin; he remembered there was a back entrance in the last cabin. His jaw dropped to the floor and his heart sank into his chest as he saw her. The thought of how long it had to have been killed him. It finally began to sink in how alone she must have had to have been for no one to know about this poor girl. He fell to the floor not knowing how to cope with these feelings. All he could do was cry. Tear after tear, rolled down his cheek as he stared at her.

He wiped the tears away and examined the poor girl. There were old rags on the floor; he assumed it was the clothes she had been wearing. She was hanging by her neck, dead. The worst bit was there wasn't even a corpse to speak of. She must have been there for many years as it takes at least a couple of years to degenerate to this, there was only a skeleton. It was almost impossible to know how long she had been there but he knew a little about bones and could tell it was a female skeleton.

As he got up he took the skeleton off the rope; he couldn't bear to look at it anymore. He looked around for somewhere decent enough to put her remains. Then he spotted it, the only decent area, it was full of green bushes and tall grass. He picked up her remains, making his stomach turn, and he hid the girl in that exact spot.

He looked down at the rags and then remembered what he had done to his hand. He grabbed the rags and tied them tightly around his hand to stop the bleeding and make the break a bit more bearable. Then he looked up at the rope, as disrespectful as he felt, he thought he might as well take the rope, after all it wasn't being used any longer. Besides, it could come in handy; he untied the rope and put it into his bag.

With that finally completed, he found the back door. He was trembling from what he had just been through as he walked to open the back door. He had to squeeze his eyes shut, his heart racing in his chest; he feared what else he might find now. Sadly, once again it was locked tight. With his last thread of hope he tried the key. He could finally smile once again as he heard a click and the door opened. He opened his eyes and calmly caught his breath. He was curious but he felt safe knowing he was all alone. He must have been.

It was hard to smile after the last encounter; it was his first experience of death ever. He had nearly died a few times before but this was not the same. This was, in his eyes, a suicide, he just couldn't come to terms with why... why would someone do that to themselves? Why would they ever want to take their own life? That was a question he constantly, throughout his life, found himself asking. It wasn't the fact he disapproved of it, it was the fact he wanted to understand. Was that asking too much?