The silent visitor.

My favourite black army boots make no sound as they hit the white marble kitchen floor. If nothing else good came from last night, at least I was forced to clean my boots. No way could I leave here undetected if they were in their normal state. My roommate always comments on my ability to gather mud on my feet. If only she knew how it got there in the first place, maybe she wouldn’t laugh as she rolled her eyes at me.

Straightening myself from my landing, I take a look around the kitchen that used to be filled with my family’s laughter. It looks nothing like it did back then, but that didn’t surprise me. Humans are never satisfied. Running my gloved fingers along the sparkling counter top and up a lipstick stained wine glass, I shake my head in sadness. There are a lot of things I like about the 21st-century, but modern design is definitely not one of them. I will never understand the need for so much white. I close my eyes to remember the feel of the old rustic countertops and smell of the classic wood fire oven cooking my mother’s perfect bread rolls, as she hums her favourite hymns. It’s almost as if she’s here with me.

Bringing myself out of the memory, I realise my legs had found their way to the living room, searching for the smell of my father’s tobacco pipe and my sibling’s laughter. Instead, all I found was a pale wooden table with matching chairs destroyed by endless crayon marks, next to a worn leather sofa and big screen TV. Sighing, I made my way over to the pink and blue rabbit that had been left open and began inspecting the artist’s handy work. I never understood children after I stopped being one, and even then I was always told I was too mature for my age. I can’t help but let out a quiet tutting sound as I ran my fingers around the bunny rabbit’s ears, they could have at least tried to keep inside the lines, how unfortunate for the rabbit to be all messy.

After giving the bunny a small sympathy stroke on the belly, I pull myself back into focus. This isn’t my home anymore. I need to get what I came for and get out of here before anybody wakes up, or Beth realises I’ve left campus. Besides, Lewis would kill me if I didn’t get what we need, and I’ve already pissed him off enough this week.

Read part two here.

Advertisements

2 thoughts on “The silent visitor.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s