Beast

Blood Stains

'Mum, I'll be back this afternoon' I call after pulling on an outfit. Dad is in his office and mum's watching TV.

'Don't be too late hunny' she calls back before I close the front door and grab my bike, I know exactly where I'm going. WestTown Carehome, surely there must be a worker or soemone there who either remembers me or has a file about me and I want to find out, I want to remember.

After googeling the directions and scribbling the down on a piece of paper, I know exactly where I'm going, it's further than I initially thought, in the next town over in fact, I guess they didn't want me to find out. After half an hour of pedalling I finally reach the neighbouring town, I've never been here before, my parents have taken me to different towns before but never this one, maybe they thought someone would recognise me and I'd find out that I'm adopted.

WestTown is really small and it seems as if everyone already knows each other by the strange stares I'm recieving, they know I'm not from ths town. I pull out the paper I folded into my pocket, I try and look for the place I wrote down, but I can't find it, frowning  stop and hop off my bike. 'Excuse me?' I call out to a pedestrian, not many people are around and the town looks quite poor, as if the government haven't bothered to fix it up.

The man stops walking, he's dressed in a suit with a long black coat, 'Yes?'

'Um, I just wanted to ask you if you know where Drew Lane is' I tell him, his eyes widen before narrowing at me, I smile nervously.

'You're going to WestTown Carehome aren't you?' he asks but it comes out more as a statement.

I gasp, 'H-how did you-'

He interrupts, 'Follow me'

I push my bike as I walk alongside him, neither of us say anything, how did he know where I'm going? He leads me down an alley way before reaching two different roads, 'You're not from aorund here are you?' he breaks the silence, I shake my head.

'No, I'm from the neighbouring town' I tell him, he nods. Suddenly he stops walking, I stop walking as well.

'Drew Lane is now called West Close, I don't know why you're visiting the carehome but let me tell you that if you're looking for something, you're probably not going to find it, it's been abandoned for years now, no one will dare go near it after what happened, you're brave' he says, I look up at him.

'How did you know where I was going?' I ask.

'There's nothing else apart from the carehome that's on that road' he says, I nod understanding. 'If you don't mind, I would like to join you, I have never been in there myself'

'Of course' I nod, we start walking again, the clock ticking to three in the afternoon, 'You said that no one came here after what happened, what did happen?'

'I don't know, I moved into this town a couple of years back, I've only heard rumours about this place, I have tried researching it but nothing came up, almost as if it never existed but from what the people of the town say, something very bad happened here, so bad that WestTown Carehome has been erased it from existence, but no one dares speak of it, they fear this building'

The man and I stand in front of the abandoned building, from what I can tell, I'm guessing the building used to look a lot better when it was in use, 'My name's Annalise, but you can call me Anna'

'Peter' he says, sticking out his hand for me to shake.

I leave my bike outside, walking alongside Peter as we approach the front door, nervousness pools in my stomach, I used to live here? For how long? The front door isn't locked but from where it hasn't been opened in years, it's jammed but Peter manages to shove it open. A wall of dust surrounds us, making us cough, I wave a hand in front of my face.

'It's so dark, I can't see anything, maybe there's a light switch' I think aloud as my hands skims the wall until I find a small switch, flicking it, a loud buzzing sounds before the light comes on, wow! Looks like this place really has been abandoned for years. I look around what looks like a foyer, a large staircase ahead, the ground is dirty, wood and dust and broken glass scatter the floor, wallpaper is dirty and torn, ripped furtniture is upside down, the padding spilling out.

'Blood stains' Peter says, pointing. He's right there's blood stains everywhere, patches of dark red all dried up, splattered on walls, broken objects litter the floor. We head into a different room, it looks the same but this looks like it used to be a living room, couches ripped open and one of them is turned over, bloodstains everywhere.

A couple of felt tip pens lay on the floor, some broken and some still in tact, rotting pieces of paper and plastic. It doesn't take long for Peter and I to walk around the whole house, 'Come and look!' Peter calls out to me.

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