Because of my slip up, I thought it would be nice to add a few more chapters (that actually go to this story) today.
The house that glared down at Andy wasn't what she had been expecting. The cream paint of the house was chipped and discolorated, the wooden porch had boards missing, and most of the windows were bashed in.
The yard had patches of brown grass. The fence on both sides of the house now sported graffiti. The mail box was missing its head, and the door was halfway off its hinges, with paper sticking in the cracks and hanging out of the mail slot.
The houses on Andy's street were now vacant. Some were foreclosed, and others further down the street had for sale signs. Compared to the other homes Andy knew hers was targeted, and from some of the readings on the fence, the people of Charming had some strong feelings of where she should end up.
The door knob didn't turn anymore; it didn't budge, even with the door slightly tilted in on the top corner it wouldn't open. So taking a deep breath she backed up a bit, and kicked the door in, smirking the slightest bit when the sound echoed throughout the home.
The house had a darker tint to it. Maybe it was because of the layers of dust built up on all of the furniture but Andy wasn't positive.
Andy only wanted to see one room. She stepped over the large pile of mail and headed down the hallway. She could see the dried blood on the carpet form down the hallway and half-smiled. She followed the trail to the last room, and turned in excited to see the work that the police officers left.
Seven years prior—
Deputy Unser walked out from the house, holding a white cloth to his mouth. He looked slightly greened and looked at Deputy Turk.
"I wouldn't go in there if I were you" He grumbled, keeping the cloth at his mouth just in case of the smell.
"What do we have?" He asked, nodding his head towards the house. Robert Turk wouldn't have gone into the building anyways, he was rather close to Pete Palon and the thought of seeing him in that state wasn't something he could digest.
Unser was having a hard time trying to think of the right words, what he just saw was unexplainable. He had seen TV shows where there were cases like this; he just never believed he would see such a violent one in Charming.
"Both were on the bed," Unser tried, "Pete looked like he took most of the beating, but it was still bad for Grace."
"How did they die?" Turk asked, his voice sounded shaky. Grace and Pete Palon where high in the church group, they were invested in the schools and invested in Charming. How someone could hate them enough to do this wasn't believable.
"Grace died from multiple stab wounds to the chest, and Pete from blood lost" Unser grumbled his head hung low.
Turk shook his head thinking of Andy Palon. She was the troubled teen the couple brought in a few years ago to try and help. She was seen in the police station at least once a week, with stealing, a new assault charge, or a DUI. She was constantly in the hospital, from what he heard from Pete; the girl would come home with a broken bone, or bruises and scrapes from a fight.
Turk knew it was her, and he was guessing with her record it wouldn't be hard to prove.
Andy sat on the bare mattress. Looking at the blood stains and the holes her knife had made. It seemed as if the room was splattered in red paint. The smirk on Andy's face never left, until she looked over at the far nightstand, sitting on the top of it was the gold cross Pete Palon cared about so much.
A scowl covered Andy's face as she stared at it. Bringing back memories she wanted to be locked away. Her fists started to shake from the anger she still had, she should have made them suffer more. She knew how to do it, how come she didn't let them wither under her hands for a few hours more? Maybe then she wouldn't have this left over anger.
She stood up hastily, gripped the nightstand and pulling it down. The sound of things sliding and breaking against the floor seemed to help. So she moved around the bedroom, scratching, hitting and breaking any item that was around her.
She moved around the house, hurting any object that kept the memories from years ago a float. Crashing and glass breaking soothed her in unexplainable ways. She moved through most of the rooms in the house, looking for anything that she didn't care about anymore, which was a lot.
She was used to not having many items so the thought of breaking the old ones that had memories that she wanted buried like her foster parents sounded like a good idea.
She twisted around in a circle; breathing heavily through her nose looking for another thing to break. She was tempted to grab a knife from the kitchen and stab any objects that looked unbroken, but she thought against it.
She slammed her back into the wall, calming herself a down a bit as she looked around the room. She made it to the living room, looking at the turned over couch, the broken pictures crumpled to the floor, and the broken chairs that she slammed against the walls.
Broken pieces of furniture littered the floor, along with glass and paper. Everything seemed like a mess, but everything looked unrecognizable, just like how she found the house.
Her hands stopped shaking so much, and she lent her head against the wall behind her, closing her eyes and letting sleep hit her.
Andy wasn't completely positive how long she had slept; she wasn't used to having clocks, or checking the light. She was used to fat people in blue uniforms running around telling everyone it was time to go back to their dorms.
She stood up, loving the way her muscles ached in places from her tantrum. She moved down the littered hallway that now had pictures on the floor, a small broken table lying in between two doors and vases shattered at her feet. She pushed into the room she tried to avoid while on her breaking rampage.
Black walls screamed at her as she opened the door, along with dark wooden furniture, and gory pictures lining her walls.
The last time she was in this room was the Monday morning she got ready for school, the day she got arrested, she never saw it since.
She stooped down at her closet, pulling out her brown boots from the back of closet that didn't even looked touch and pulled out the roll of cash she kept, the boot had her seven year old cigarettes, lighter, and the small buck knife she stabbed a girl with once.
She pulled out the cash and knife, clipping it on the back of her pants and her lighter, before chucking the carton of half-smoked cigarettes across the room and moving out of her room.
She stomped out of her house, and slammed the door shut, knowing she would have to break it down again to get back inside. She moved down the messy sidewalk counting the rolled money in her hand.
She was only a few blocks from Charming's main street when she heard panting and looked up to see a blond woman jogging in yoga pants and blue tank top stopping dead in her tracks as their eyes connected. The girl staggered backwards before she took off in a sprint towards the rows of houses on the other side of town.
Andy smirked; apparently they didn't know she was out yet.
Well they do now.