Goo strolled through the second-floor hallway of the Foster's house, her untied locks of hair veiling what was the world's worth of sorrow and sadness. The last twelve hours had been among the most taxing of her young life; the day began so harmless and innocently too.
She still vividly remembered her last words before fleeing the guest room: Would you mind if I went for a walk around the place? I'll be back in a little while... I promise you, I won't do anything funny... oh thank you, Mac, you're such a sweet boy...
That "little while" turned out to be a half-hour; and she wasn't so much stretching her legs as she was frantically looking for a certain lady.
Frankie... she was nowhere to be found. By now, Goo stubbornly realized that this "secret plan" wasn't much of a good idea. She'd looked into all the open places she could, hoping to somehow find her, or at least find clues about her current whereabouts, but with absolutely no luck. Thankfully, she hadn't run into anybody else yet, which would've gotten her into serious trouble--unfortunately, that meant they were within their own rooms and thus, her search was greatly limited.
Not that the woman would be in somebody else's room anyway. Not with the current circumstances.
Her sigh synchronized chillingly with the latest round of lightning and thunder. Upon realizing, she felt as if her spine was pierced by multiple stone cold daggers. At least the lightning served to illuminate the otherwise unlit house; something she was greatly thanking as she now found herself before the central staircase.
Goo grimaced--this was where the "meeting" between the staff turned into a war of inflated egos. Even in the dark, she spotted all the unsavory details: gaping nail scratches in the handles, unremovable wine stains sprawled down the steps and, worst of all, specks of multicolored hair belonging to one of the many friends created by her, accentuated by a unnaturally large leather leash still loose across the floor.
She set down the stairs, slowly yet also darting her eyes to make sure nobody else was around. Step by step, Goo remembered the unfortunate encounter with increasingly painful clarity: the victorian rabbit going from confrontational to cowardly, the old lady's vain whimpers for sanity and Frankie's vicious, hatefilled snarls.
"...NOT MY FAULT I HAD TO GO SHOPPING AFTER THEY ATE EVERYTHING..."
"...MISS FRANCES THIS, MISS FRANCES THAT, 'OH MISS FRANCES, ..."
"...GOT SOME NERVE--YOU SHOULD BE PUNISHED FOR WHAT YOU PULLED..."
"...SPENDING IT AS YOUR SLAVE, IN THIS GODFORSAKEN SHITHOLE..."
"...CRETINS CREATED BY SOME RETARDED GIRL..."
Halfway down, her mind drifted to hiding in the abandoned guest room next to that particular boy, at the time crying so hard that he had no opportunity to speak... she had drifted into sleep, which she woke up from thanks to the nasty weather. As she finally reached floor level, Goo remembered what he had to say afterwards:
"Frankie is not a bad person."
Instantly afterwards, she recalled the woman's last few words. Retarded girl.
The girl stalled; her limbs locked together, her body whimpering and eyes clamped shut, vainly trying to not cry--but when she at last exhaled, tears didn't come instead, instead arose small yet hurried bursts of air, firm and burning with contempt, and her once-loving soul now grew as cold as the rain. It was here she realized she wasn't sad, or mournful anymore.
She was furious.
Goo scoffed as she strode through the spacious main hall. Not a bad person! How could Mac lie to her like that? Even from the very beginning, she realized Frankie was... well, an oddball to put it kindly. Fresh still was the fierce clawing of her nails upon her fragile skin when she was originally seized and booted from the house, and she'd secretly overheard all the insults by her and Mr. Herriman in their berating of the boy--certainly not the "big sister that never was" he mentioned. She hadn't seen Frankie much in-between the waiving of the ban and the confrontation, but her expressions were less-than-amiable, and she'd feared it was a matter of time before her timer came to a halt.
Of course, Goo soon recalled that she'd made a certain statement after Mac's quasi-defense of the redhead finished; "that she and Frankie have a bit in common". After wandering around Foster's for a bit and after further contemplating those last few hours, it was clear it couldn't be any more untrue. To her, Frankie was quite frankly the nastiest and most unlikeable person she'd ever met.
And yet...
"Nasty" and "unlikeable" were constant terms used by other people to describe her. And no matter how much the seemingly-innocent exterior leads to believe otherwise, she'd return those ill sentiments by making equally insulting remarks behind their backs. And indeed, she'd been the oddball all her life.
Perhaps... Mac was right after all? Perhaps this Frankie is a decent being?
Whatever was the case, Goo was now utterly regretting leaving the guest room. It wasn't even exactly her decision--she fell for the sincerity in the boy's tone, and lied about "waltzing around the house" hoping that she'd conveniently stumble upon the woman, make nice-nice and end this entire mess.
With a finalitive sigh, Goo returned towards the staircase and was making her way up...
"What's that?" She had barely reached the third rung when out barked a distant yet recognizable hare's voice from the second-floor hall.
Goo cursed.
- - -
"I've checked throughoughly, and there's nobody here."
"Hmmph. For a moment, I was thinking it was--well..."
"Frances?"
"Thinking and hoping. I'm worried, Herriman. She hasn't returned since leaving the house; and this weather is strong enough to kill anybody."
"I'm sure she's currently in a sheltered area; most likely the bus... that is, if she wants to shelter herself in the first place."
"Are you implying--"
"Well, Martha, no offense... but that could very well be the case. Your granddaughter was frightfully sincere in her anger. She could be anywhere by now."
"Oh please no... please, please, PLEASE tell me nothing's going to happen to her. Please--"
"Martha, I'd suggest looking at both sides. It's likely she's simply venting at a friend's house."
"Goddammit Herriman... how many times do I have to tell you, Frances has no outside friends to turn to! She's been distanced from most of her high school friends after graduating, and those few who remained abandoned her too."
"Well, she ocassionally mentions this Ashley girl--"
"They've broken up too. Frances told me about it a few days earlier--and in the most damning way possible. Apparently, Ashley took too much pleasure from her woes with that Canadian friend."
"Wow, that's... yeeesh..."
"Oh, I bet you're looking for a synonym for "unfortunate" that won't expose you as the century's biggest hypocrite."
"What! Don't tell me--"
"You know, she was really anticipating that concert."
"I, I, Martha, wait-- I'm the hypocrite? Why didn't you interfere then? I was doing my job; your granddaughter crossed the line with her antics, I made sure she paid for it. You're the one telling me to always be harsh on her!"
"You're the one always telling me to make sure she doesn't end up like her father--LIKE YOUR SON!"
"WELL, IT MAY BE TOO LATE NOW!"
- - -
Goo stood outside the house, pressing against the icy fabric just below one of it's entrance windows, thankfully with a tarp over her to shear off the thick rain. She carefully inched upwards and glimpsed inside; her heart sank at what she witnessed.
The two figures--an anthropomorphic victorian rabbit and an old lady which happened to be her creator--were across the main hall, consumed by the darkness; and yet Goo could clearly read their expressions. And they were not happy at all.
The old lady's eyes welled with tears, her face looking as if she was carrying the brunt of the current weather. She approached the rabbit with index raised, but lowered her tone to a whisker--microscopic yet lethal in it's indecipherable husks. Shortly afterwards, they disappeared from the girl's eyesight.
Perfect timing, because Goo couldn't watch any more. She pried her gaze from the window and dove into the wilted scenery before her.
When she strolled up the exterior hills of the bespectacled residence with Mac next to him, it seemed so serene and beautiful, accentuated by the cloud's mild specks of water. Now as she made her way down, carrying an umbrella spontaneously taken from the entrance armory(She was at least thankful they didn't notice that there was one missing), the scenery was a wreck: the once-triumphant fauna was relentlessly beat into the soil, insects crawled around everywhere and the barriers surrounding the house were very grimy.
She, of course, knew who these two elders were: Mr. Herriman and Madame Foster, whom were two-thirds of the house's staff. However, this was the first time she'd seen either in such a state: the rabbit's sudden concern for very person she'd previously seen treat like a lackey, and the sweet lady's frightened screeching. It was very different from their fateful last encounter with the missing third... a giant departure.
At last, Goo stood before the gate entrance separating the adoption home and the outside world. Her self-loathing urges rose once again. It's locked, she growled to herself. The keys were clearly in the house, and that meant her "search" was about to come to a halt.
...or not.
As she aimlessly fiddled with the bars, she soon discovered the left side was considerably damaged and opened up--wide open. Goo approached the vicinity and instantly noticed the details: two of the bars were bent outwards, leaving opportunity for anybody who wanted to enter. The surrounding bars didn't fare well either, containing everything from knuckle dents to deep nail scratches.
What caught her eye, however, was just outside: a giant but dingy public bus, the one she just heard Mr. Herriman mention. As if the weather's harshness wasn't enough, it's hull was riddled with more of those dents and scratches. Worse, glass shards were sprawled across the slippery cement sidewalk, some of it's windows half-shattered.
And inside was a twenty-two-year old lady with red hair and in a tattered green coat, sitting next to one of those broken windows.
Both hands were pressed against her face. She was crying.