As I approached my house I saw George pacing in the front yard. When I got near he nearly threw a tantrum. "Why'd you take so long!" He babbled.
"I-" I started but he cut me off.
"Shut up and just get in the house! I need to go take care of something." I gave him a questionable look.
"What?"
His eyes narrowed again. I felt like grasping my question back. But I guess George was to stressed at the moment then to argue. "Something, it's…Um…Never mind you! get in the house!" I obeyed his order and went and sat in my room. I looked out the big window beside my bed, as George drove off. That was weird. I haven't seen George act so stressed ever since Dana took me under their care. For a matter of fact, he didn't act as stressed when she left us…
To past my time I got my old scrapbook out. I made that scrapbook with Zayn and Dana last year, and we have been putting picture in it ever since. But I guess the stopped…I turned past so much pages of memories. I laughed at the picture of me dumping a bucket of water on Zayn. That was my revenge for his April fools prank on me. I turned the pages and went past a lot of more pictures. One of me and Dana at New Years two years ago, and then a picture of me and Dana when I lost my front teeth when I turned 7. I felt a tear drop down my face as I saw a picture of Dana in the middle and me and Zayn on opposite sides of her, hugging her for her birthday 2 years ago. I let the tear slide down my cheek as it made its way to the book. I wiped away more tears then stood up. I put the scrap book in my chest and locked it. I moved a hair strand out of my face then walked over to Dana's room. Her room had been just as it has always been since that day, except for the fact that there was a big pile of George's filthy clothes all over the bed. I sighed and pushed them to the other side of the bed and sat down. I stared at the portrait of me and Dana on the wall and tears flooded down. I reached out and touched the picture-Dana on the face. It took me a few seconds to stop tearing before I got up. I decided that since Dana is gone I should start packing her things. Instead of selling them all like George had suggested the other day, I wanted to store them in the basement for memories.
When everything was in boxes I made my way downstairs. Just then I remembered how George still wasn't back yet. I shrugged and continued walking down to the basement/storage. The room was packed, I noticed a new big pile. I put the boxes away and decided I should explore those boxes. I moved a lot of things out of the way. Mostly old books, clothes and CD's. The pile I noticed was all just George's things. I frowned. He'd probably have me arrange them later because 'He has better things to do.' agh.
I started opening some of George's boxes because I was just that bored. Then, I stumbled across a big trunk. Being the little curious me I am, I opened it. in it was something with a black covering on top. I looked around the dark basement. I didn't see anymore of this covered mystery. Slowly I removed the sheet. Once it was all off I looked up at it. I gasped and the sheet dropped out of my hand. I let out a long and high scream as I clumsily fell backwards.
I grasped my heart as I breathed very fast and heavily. Was it real, what I had just saw? I slowly got up and moved toward it again to check. And it was real alright.
In the trunk, lying down was Dana. Her dead body was placed in the trunk with tape on her mouth and her arms crossed like a mummy. Tears splattered down my face as I tried to gain my balance. I put my hand on my head as I stared on the ground, trying to calm my senses. What was Dana's body doing in the basement? Had she committed suicide and instead of calling the ambulance George stored her body? But that's when it hit me. Dana Smith didn't kill herself. She was murdered. Murdered. Dana was murdered. Those words just couldn't make up in my mind. Who in his right mind would think about murdering her? Dana, the one who raised me. Dana, the only female I had left. Who? Then I heard the door upstairs shut.
He was home. The murderer of my sweet mom Dana was home.
I quickly put everything back in its way just as George yelled. "Jana, where are you? Get over here!" And I ran upstairs.