Beautiful Scars [1] ✔

Chapter Thirty Six

Okay, guys. Don't be mad, but here's a warning: I will end this chapter with a cliffhanger. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. If you hate me, I get it. This is some intense stuff, so get ready. Oh- if you cry or freak the flip out, I completely understand. Tbh, I did too. Anyway, if you guys don't comment on this chapter, it will kill me, so please comment. It's so worth it, I promise.
                            ~***~

I pressed the phone closer to my ear, walking towards the entrance, grass crunching under my shoes as I did so.

"You're in?" Aston asked. "Like, you're in the house already?"

"Not yet. I just reached the door," I held the phone to my shoulder as I reached it. I kicked it with my foot, as I had seen in so many kung-fu movies, but much to my dismay, I failed epically. It's not as easy as it looks. I growled and put the phone back to my ear. "Aston, I can't get this dumb door to open. Can you help?"

He laughed, and I rolled my eyes. "Did you try picking the lock?"

I searched the area and my eyes widened as I spotted a vase right by entrance. "Hold on," I replied before setting the phone down gently. I dug through mounds of soil and smiled as my fingers closed around on something important.

I grabbed the phone, put it back to my ear, and spoke. "Aston? Still here?"

"I'd never leave. Did you get it yet?"

"I did."

"You picked a lock? Sophia Wordon picked a lock?!"

I snickered, interrupting him. "Dude, relax. I just found the spare key."

He scoffed. "That sounds more like you."

I held my phone in my left hand, and inserted the key into the hole. I turned it and squealed as I heard the click of the door unlocking. I turned the knob and the door creaked as it opened.

I entered the house, my heart pounding. I was looking for something and I didn't even know where to start. That's just wonderful.

~***~

After searching through the kitchen, bathroom, living room, porch, backyard, front yard, and utility room, I was at a lost for words. I didn't find one clue. Nada. Zilch. Nothing to tie this man to my parents' murder. I couldn't even find the lighter he used.

"Aston," I sobbed. "I can't find anything that connects him. I've checked every room! There's nothing!"

"Are you sure you checked every room?"

"Yes. I checked the kitchen, bathroom, living room, porch, backyard, front yard, and utility room." I responded, a fistful of hair in my hand.

"Did you check the bedroom?"

That was it. I felt so stupid. "No," I mumbled. "But I'm doing it now," I added. With a sigh, I stood up, walking to the only room that was left. It was easy to find, since it was the only closed door.

I turned the knob with shaky hands, sweat forming on my brow. "I just entered the bedroom," I began. "Where do I search?"

I could hear his fingers tapping against something, most likely the steering wheel, and I waited anxiously for his response.

I shut the door closed behind me, and sat on the bed, fumbling with loose strands on the comforter.

"I got it!" He exclaimed. "Where do killers normally keep their keepsakes?"

"Under the floor?" I asked.

"Yes, but maybe they keep it somewhere else."

"Like where?" I asked. My brain was rummaging through every possible place, until it hit me. The closet. "I got it!"

I looked around the room until I found a small ladder hiding under the bed. I grabbed it, then positioned it correctly before I hopped on. After I had a strong enough balance to not fall off, I climbed the steps until I reached the little shelf on top. There were four boxes, each of them with a different label. One read, Clothes. The next one read Accessories. The third one read Toys. But it was the final one that caught my eye. It read Memories. I put my phone in my pocket and grabbed the box with both hands and threw it onto the bed, watching as its contents spilled out. I took a deep breath, then jumped off the ladder, closing my eyes as I fell.

I landed on the bed with a thump, the mattress bending underneath me. After I popped back up, I grabbed the box and rummaged through it, until I found a photo book. I grabbed it and started flipping through the pages until I found two pictures that made me lose my breath.

The first was of my parents. They were tied together, clothes ripped with blood spurting from their heads. They were beaten and bruised, and it was clear they put up a fight. Resting next to their feet was a tiny bullet, so small it was concealed the human eye, unless you looked close enough. I bit back a cry, and tears splattered onto the page. The next picture wouldn't just hurt me, though.

I put the phone back to my ear, taking a shaky breath before continuing. "Aston. He murdered Melissa. He shot her-"

"What?" He whispered.

"He beat her, too. By each picture, he has the directions on how he killed them. And it's not just them he killed, Aston. There's so many." I sobbed, my stomach lurching. This man was sick.

"You're holding the book, right now?" He asked.

I wiped under my eyed and sniffled. "I'm holding it now."

"Don't move. I'm coming now."

"Okay. I'll-" I stopped short as I heard a noise. The front door opened. And it wasn't me. I was in the back, way too far to even reach the front door. "Aston. Be quiet. Someone's here."

"What are you talking about? Sophia, what's going on?!."

"Shh!" I commanded.

My heart was pounding as I heard footsteps, and I leaped into the closet, closing the door quietly behind me. Shit. Shit. Stay calm, Sophia. Don't move. Don't make a single sound.

Everything was quiet. I raised the phone to my ear, and whispered, "Aston. You can come now. Everything's fine-"

I screamed as the closet door opened and I was thrown into the bedroom door, a searing pain in my back. I blinked repeatedly, then groaned.

I opened my eyes to find myself face-to-face with a killer.

:3S&