The Degenerates - Under Edit

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Neijla's encounter with Lila had her itching to tear strips off Trey. But, whilst she felt the deepest of rages against him, she had birthed yet another plan to find clues to her own mystery of the Chadwick brothers.

Rain sprinkled down lightly as Neijla stuffed her hands in her pockets, nearly jogging across the grass. She found herself at the door of the large frat house that seemed much more intimidating in the middle of the day. She knew that the frat boys were out at practise, Lila had told her so.

The door was was crafted from heavy oak, double the size of any normal door, but she pushed with the palms of her hands anyway, briefly looking behind her to see if anyone were out and about, despite the thick bushy hedge that judge shielded her from view.

The door remained locked, naturally, and she began a scavenger hunt for a spare key. There had to be one, they were a bunch of boys, surely they were prone to forget and one of them had the idea to keep a spare around. Neijla slid the doormat away, finding nothing, so she ran her hands along the exposed brick, in an attempt to find a loose one, to no avail either.

Neijla backed up from the door, to see if she could peer over the top of it, in case there were a spare above, and the heel of her boot knocked something and almost sent her tumbling backward into the garden. A plant, in a turquoise pot, tipped backward off the concrete path and into the garden, spilling its' soil. Frustrated, she swore, and crouched down, trying to stuff the soil back into the pot.

Her hands were quickly covered in the soft dirt, but a hard material scraped her knuckle. As she recoiled instantly, she realised it was metal. She thrust her hand back in, drawing out a key.

After discreetly letting herself into the mansion, she timidly closed the door, as if not to alert the peace and disrupt the silence. The large federation style building boasted tall, high ceilings and bold, framed windows. The floor echoed with each step, any noise bounced from the marble and travelled around the room like a boomerang. The interior had been cleaned and organised from the night of the party, yet there were still jackets, shoes and jerseys lying on the backs of chairs, on the stair rail, and by the door.

She followed the hall into the enormous lounge room; from memory, this room was the dance floor.

An oversized brown rug lay over the tiles, crisp and clean, what looked to be an untouched coffee table posed over top. A single candle light burned, casting a tiny flicker of movement over the white leather couch and an antique bergère chair. This room had been cleaned impeccably, a complete contrast to the foyer.

It defied belief how they could trust a bunch of boys to live here and not destroy everything they saw.

Neijla distracted herself from admiring the beauty of the house, remembering she was on a short time limit, and hadn't the slightest clue on how she'd get herself out if she were to be caught.

Neijla left the lounge room and approached the brown, wooden staircase. It was hard not to imagine the night of the party, where she followed Trey up to the third floor. It was then she remembered he told her of a liqueur cabinet, and she nearly went in search for it first and foremost.

Neijla squeezed her fingers into her palms, feeling her nails pierce her skin. She stopped gazing up the stairwell and peered over the railing, giving another check to see if anyone were lurking around. She hadn't exactly thoroughly checked before entering, but she supposed she entered into that risk when she decided to break and enter.

The areas downstairs, from what she guessed, was empty, so she continued her journey upstairs, passing the window she had stood at when she properly met Trey Arden.

Like school children, each bedroom door had been labelled with a name, or two, depending if they shared or not, and she realised the names were surnames. It certainly made her job easier. As she wandered along, she found two doors, side by side, labelled Chadwick.