Andy's Backstory

Chapter Four

-3 years later, December 16th, 1961-

Andy woke up, gasping for breath. The house had been cold for months, if not years now. She rubbed her head, wondering if her flash of colour had been a memory or a dream. The house had become... grey. It had been grey for who knows how long. Kids and adults reckoned the house had been abandoned. 

The garden out front had used to be alive with flowers, birds, bees and even a small apple tree. Now it was a barren land, with weeds and wasps, the grass was long and uncontrolled.

The once light sky blue paint had blackened and parts had been scraped off, and the once polished brass knocker had rusted and was now delicate and easily shattered.

The windows had been boarded up, the glass cracked and dirty. The gutter was most likely clogged with leaves, for every time it rained water spilled over the edges, forming a sheet of water trickling down, like a weak waterfall.

Most of the rooms were dusty and unused. The kitchen was clean, as shiny as a diamond. Andy had cleaned it every single day from paranoia. She needed everything in her kitchen as clean as possible. The groceries were fresh, and she still had a daily routine... she was just... different? 

She had grown quiet and ignorant to anything in reality. Her hair was messy, her cheeks were colourless, and her eyes had huge purple bags under them from late nights doing nothing. It was like she was in her own little world, one that someone had to constantly shake her out of. 

For others like Diana and Deborah, she seemed happier with the hand squeezing, and she smiled a lot more.



For Andy. It was terrifying.