Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO Bury the Dead ‿︵‿︵‿︵
(PRESENT)
Without arguing, JJ granted her wish and dropped her back off at the Chateau on the way back.
After almost getting caught by the police and splitting up, Avery was nearing a breaking point. This whole treasure hunt was becoming weirdly real and she was struggling to digest John B's words. She didn't understand why, maybe because she once was the one they were chasing, or maybe it was something to do with her mother.
As much as she believed in John B and wanted to help him find his father, she was afraid. Whatever was at the end of the trail, may not be what he expected to find. Although when she reached the end of her trial, it turned in her favour, only for a while. The turning point sent her into a spiral. Up until now, Avery sometimes wishes that she never started the chase. Convinced that if she hadn't, she wouldn't know the ugly truths.
Once the Chateau was checked out by the boys, confirming that the smugglers had gone. She saw them off down the drive before stepping up to the porch, anticipating the mess that was left behind.
Her palm pressed against the door and pushed it open, the movement cut short by something obstructing it. Peeking her head through the gap and peering down, she sighed and wiggled her leg through, gracelessly kicking the chair out the way.
"Holy shit" She mumbled to herself, her eyes scanning over every inch of the place.
Furniture was out of place, a few pieces had been broken in the commotion. Picture frames hung at a wonky angle and some had fallen, or been knocked off the walls and surfaces. The trash can had taken a hit and spat out all the rubbish from inside over the floor. Chips of materials scattered around the floor, crunching under her shoes as she slowly walked further into the shack.
With a burst of motivation, Avery bent down and collected the stray pizza box off the ground. She filled her cheeks with air and blew it out, taking one last glance around at the ambushed space before striding towards the kitchen.
"Oh my, God!" Avery yelped, smacking a hand over her chest as she twirled around with a big black bag in her hand, acknowledging John B's presence.
"Maybe you guys were right. I should let it go," John B faked confidence, pretending that he was sure on his decision to let everything go. "I have to move on, pull myself together. Pick up the pieces. Stop living in denial"
Avery lowered her hands and dropped them in front of her, clutching onto the trash bag. She titled her head at her friend, "maybe you should. But it's not that easy, Johnny. You can't move on from the past, it takes a lot of time"
"What can I do?" His voice was fragile and it made Avery want to cradle him in her arms, even though she was meant to be mad at him.
She was about to shake her head when an idea came to mind, "I might have an suggestion"
The two old friend's started to clean up the Chateau. They binned everything they needed and could, throwing the black bags into a pile. John B carried the broken furniture out to the backyard and piled it all together. He cursed at Avery as she was acting stubborn, insisting to help him carrying things.
Now, they stood before the office's door. Avery cautiously glanced over at the boy, not wanting to push him to do something he wasn't ready to do. She was surprised by how easily he grabbed the handle and pushed open the door, wondering in to be met with destruction. The office looked like the rest of the home, an absolute mess.
"You don't have to do this, John. It's okay if you don't want to" Avery softly said, hovering in the doorway as the brunet darted around the room, picking up a handful of broken belongings.
"It's time to bury the dead," John B sighed heavily, pausing in his movements. He looked back at her and curtly nodded, offering a small, sad smile, "together"
Watching John B bring out the board, the last thing, and drop it onto the pile of stuff, Avery knew it was time. He stood, staring at the stack for a moment before gazing over to Avery, who stood on the opposite side. She connected their gaze and could feel her throat tighten, her eyes glossing over as tears built up on her waterline.
"Together" She murmured, nodding her head, attempting to convince herself more than John B, who was watching her carefully with equally as sad eyes.
His eyes blinked down to the stack of envelopes she held. This was the first time he had seen them. The envelopes were a mix of whites and browns, a pop of red and blue around a couple edges. They were all written to Avery, from her mother. She had held onto them ever since she discovered them.
It was the last thing she had of her, something she never wanted to lose. They proved that Lindsay Creed had lived, and loved her daughter in her own twisted way. Something that Avery held onto so tightly. Yet, it wasn't right to hold onto anymore, the weight was too heavy and Avery couldn't keep carrying it.
"Ready?" John B's voice brought her back to reality.
The boy waited for some sort of response from his friend, watching her nod her head and force a smile. He fumbled to fish out the packet of matches from his pocket. Picking out a match and slicing it over the igniter, John B delayed his actions, awaiting for Avery to drop the letters onto the pile.
With a deep breath, she didn't think twice and threw them. Before either of them could think again, John B flicked the lit match onto the pile, creating a wild flame almost immediately. He grabbed the red bottle and squeezed gasoline over the flame, triggering it to grow even bigger and crackle louder. Avery stared at the dancing flames, watching it burn the edges of the envelopes and spread across the paper.
Her eyes snapped up as John B poked a mental rod into the fire, smoothly scooping the Routledge's board out before it completely went up in flames. A frown rested on her face as the boy frenetically stomp out the fire. He let out a huff and stood up straight, pushing his curls out of his face, briefly catching Avery's gaze before crouching down to look closer at the cork board.
"Olivia R. Routledge" John B mumbled, his finger hovering over the label.
"Who?" Avery said baffled.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
AUTHORS NOTE! therapy < burning remains of dead parents. this was, again, a great opportunity to take. you probably won't end up liking lindsay creed so i'm not gonna lie to you. but first mention of her!
