Pretty Birdie

Chapter 25 - Hope

**Wes POV**

It's Wednesday and I still haven't had any update from the police. ITS FUCKING WEDNESDAY! Birdie has been missing for over a week now. I'm losing my mind. I should never of left her. What was I thinking? I can't take the waiting anymore, I have to do something. I stand up from my sofa and pace the living room, running my hands through my hair  in frustration.

'Ahhh' I shout, swinging my fist to the wall.

I just can't take it. I grab a jacket from the hook by the front door and walk outside, not even bothering to lock the door behind me. I don't know where I'm going until I'm there. Outside Xanders house. The police are no longer watching, waiting for him to return. They must of realised he isn't coming back. I stop in the street and look at the house. It looks like any of the other houses down the street. Nothing special. It's not the house you would think a monster lives in. The only way I'm going to find B is if I know where he's taken her. I walk up to the gate to his front garden, open it and take a loose brick off the short wall. I walk up the small cobble stone path leading to his front door and smash the brick through one of the frosted glass panels, making a hole big enough to fit my hand through. I don't care if anyone hears me, as I force my way into his den. I just know I have to find her. I put my arm into the hole and trace my fingers up and down the inside of  the door, searching for the lock. Once I find it I release the catch, opening the door. I step forward into the house and start my search, Looking for any clues I can find. I check every room in the house and start to lose my patients and any hope I'll find where Birdie is being kept. I walk into the living room and spot a desk in the corner. I walk over and pull the draws open, scrambling around for anything that could be helpful. There's nothing.

I shout out in Anger and swipe everything off the desk, throwing his laptop, printer and a piles of books to the floor. I pick the wooden desk chair up and swing it to the floor, shattering it into a thousand pieces. I drop to the floor with my head in my hands and feel tears begin to pool in my eyes. I look up to the ceiling and try to blink them away, but its no use. Tears run down my cheeks when the thought of never seeing Birdie again punches me in the gut. The effect this girl has had on me in such a short time is unimaginable. I didn't know I was capable of having these sorts of feelings for any one. 

I wipe my face with my jacket sleeve and stare at the mess I've made on the floor. Chips of wood among pieces of blank paper and several books, now in disarray. Something catches my eye in one of the books. I reach out to it, pulling it back to my lap and opening it to the page which has been bookmarked. I take the bookmark out and look at it. It isn't just a bookmark, It's a photograph of a young boy standing with a mum and a dad outside the front of a house in the countryside. Why does this house seem so familiar? And then it hits me. I've driven past this house so many times on my bike. It looks different to the picture. Now its windows are boarded up with panels of plywood, overgrown hedges and a big metal gate in front of it, stopping people from getting inside. Was this where he was keeping her? I feel a swell of hope and jump to my feet, running back towards my flat and getting on my motorbike. It's worth a shot. I have to try.

'I'm coming for you B' I say to myself.