I Pray for Death

Chapter Fifteen

The house was dark and bitterly cold.  My thoughts were the same.  I could feel Grayson’s stare as I took a step forward in to the kitchen.  

“Wait, are you sure?” he caught my elbow in his hand and held me from going any farther into the room.  

“I have to do this.” I said and gently pulled my arm away.  I took a few more steps forward, my wet boots squeaking across the dirty linoleum floor.  I heard Grayson sigh and step in behind me.  “What’s wrong?” I asked wondering why he was so hesitant to let me come here.

“It’s just that I never went back and I never saw my father after he went to prison.  I hate for you to come back in here and be reminded of everything that happened to you and your sister.”  The grave look on his face said it all.  

“I don’t have to be here to remember, all those memories are there no matter where I am.  I have to face them, otherwise I will be scared the rest of my life.” I whispered and slipped my hand in his.  He nodded and squeezed my hand a little tighter.

I walked through the dank kitchen into the living room.  I looked at the couch, the indent where my mother always sat was still there and a shiver curled through my body but I kept walking.  It was as if at any moment she would be sitting there, watching me with hate filled eyes.  

 The house looked as if it had been ransacked; things were missing and everything had been moved from its original position.  The police probably found more than evidence of abuse and neglect in this house.  

I plowed up the stairs, trying to think of nothing but the reason I came here in the first place.  If I stopped to dwell on anything, the memories would suck me under and possibly never release me.  

At the top of the stairs, I took a deep breath and opened the door to my old bedroom.  We stood in the doorway taking in the damage.  My ragged clothes were on the floor and torn to shreds.  My bed and dresser were flipped over, the mattress and drawers spilled out along with my clothes.  The mattress had even been slit down the middle; batting and foam pulled out and scattered everywhere.  

Grayson looked around at the destruction with wide eyes.  Seeing proof of the rage my parents had for me, almost pushed me to turn and run down the stairs and out the door.  The material things didn’t matter but the message they sent across did.  I shook my head and cleared the thoughts plaguing me.  Letting go of Grayson’s hand, I stepped forward and started pushing things out of my way to get to the closet.  

Grayson helped me clear the way, lifting the mattress and scooting the heavy dresser out of the way.  “Memory, what are you looking for?” he asked as I threw open the closet door.  He stood beside me as I stared into the small, bare closet.  “There’s nothing here.” he whispered as he closely examined the empty closet.  

“When Shayde died my parents locked up her room and threw away the key.  They never threw out her things and they never went back in there.  A few months after, my father boarded up the door and plastered over it.” I said as I stepped into the closet.  A glance back at Grayson confirmed that he didn’t understand where I was going with this.  I stood on tiptoe to find the edge of the plasterboard at the back of the closet.  I found it and pulled with all my strength, finally the board crumbled down, revealing a skinny door with only a lock.  

I looked back at Grayson with a satisfied smile.  He stood staring at the door his jaw hanging low.  I pulled the extra key out and slid it the lock.  “My parents put that board there to keep me out.  They didn’t know I had the extra key.”  I turned the key and pushed the door open revealing a little girl’s room.  

Tears sprung to my eyes as I took in every detail of Shayde’s room.  It was just the way it had been the day she died, bed unmade, dirty clothes on the floor, and crayon pictures of everything under the sun covering the walls.  A sob ripped its way from my throat and my knees wobbled as a wave of sorrow filled me.  Without the layer of dust covering everything it would seem as if she would run in at any moment; she would jump on the bed and yell for me to come join her.