*Author's Note*
This one is a bit shorter, I apologize, but it's got really good stuff! I hope you like this one! As Always,
Happy Reading!
~ ZeB
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Though everything about the house was ancient, at least it had air conditioning. It was hot. It felt like the sun had a personal grudge against us because no matter where it was at in the sky, its rays were intensified tenfold. The outside thermometer read 95°F and to make matters worse, it was humid. The shade from the apple trees offered little protection from the smoldering heat. It was hot on top of sticky and the house was the only cool place to be.

At least, that's what you'd think.

I sat at my usual spot by the apple trees and watched Henry go in and out of the shed. He would exit the shed with less sweat than he had walking in. I watched this happen again and again, never being able to come to a concrete conclusion.

"There's no way that shed is cooler than out here, it doesn't have air conditioning. Adding a fan or two still wouldn't keep you that cool." I mumbled to myself.

Even the heat couldn't hide the beauty of the day. The sky above was baby blue and speckled with small, fluffy white clouds. It looked as if giant cotton balls were glued to the sky. However, the horizon held a different story. The clouds were dark grey, almost black and rolling in slowly like they were stalking prey. Just by looking at the long stretch of the towering dark clouds, I could tell they were bringing a fierce storm.

My attention was drawn to movement in front of me. Betty stuck her head out of the backdoor and yelled, "Henry! I'm heading to the store. I'll be back soon." Five minutes later I heard the old truck that sat out front start up.

That thing runs? The weeds were starting to grow around the tires...

An idea struck me. I got up and ran for the house, cautiously checking the shed for Henry. I got inside and the temperature difference almost knocked me off my feet. It was like running from a desert straight into a walk-in freezer.

As I made my way upstairs, the air cooled the sweat on my body, giving me a soft chill. It felt good, but it was also annoying when my shirt would pull away then stick itself back to my skin all wet and cold.

There was one room in the whole house we weren't allowed to go into. Betty and Henry's bedroom. I checked down the stairs and listened for Henry's heavy, booted footsteps.

Nothing.

As I closed the distance between the door and I, my heart raced and my mouth went dry. My hand shook while reaching for the doorknob. I twisted it and pushed the door open, gritting my teeth with each pop and groan of the hinges. Giving one last look over my shoulder, I silently shut the door.

The bed was neatly made with heavy comforters and a handful of pillows, indigo shaggy carpet covered the floor, big wooden wardrobes stood on either side of the bed and a desk sat near the window. It had a ton of papers thrown about on it in no particular order. I scanned the room and tiptoed over to the desk. I picked up pieces of paper in each hand, looking them over quickly before replacing them exactly how I picked them up.

What am I looking for?

Before I stepped away from the desk, a piece of paper caught my eye. It was lined paper with water stains and handwriting in black ink. I picked it up and examined it, however, none of it made sense.

̶C̶a̶r̶s̶o̶n̶ ̶B̶. -1998- Tried to Run Away.
̶B̶e̶n̶j̶a̶m̶i̶n̶ ̶P̶. -1999- Disobedience.
̶N̶a̶t̶h̶a̶n̶i̶e̶l̶ ̶S̶. -2001- Disobedience.
̶W̶i̶l̶l̶ ̶J̶. -2003- Fought Back/Tried to Run Away.
Cristie F. -2004
Garrett H. -2006
J̶u̶l̶i̶e̶t̶t̶e̶ ̶C̶. -2009- Ran Away. (Got Away.)
Josie L. -2010
Francine R. -2011
Jackson L. -2013
Shelby H. -2015- Disobedience.
Timothy F. -2017
Alice G. -2018

"What are all these names? And what the hell is mine doing last?!" I said, theorizing that there's no way 'Alice G.' and the present year means anyone else, but me.

The names with a little note at the end were crossed out, all but Shelby's.

Why are they crossed out? Did something happen to Shelby? Disobedience? What's that supposed to mean?

I took out my phone and snapped a quick picture of the paper and placed it back. Along the wall, were sticky notes with more writing. Most were gibberish to me, but one stood out. The number for the foster care system. In particular, Mrs. Morrison's district. Sticking to the bottom of that one, was one with my name on it, underlined several times.

"What the hell...?" I took a picture of that too.

I traced the wall with my phone, taking pictures of everything I thought was important. One of the last things I came across was a cutout of a newspaper article that read:

"Charges against local foster family dropped after accuser was found mentally unstable."

I took its picture and stared in disbelief. I couldn't wrap my head around it.

It couldn't be THIS family... Could it?

As I was about to take a picture of the whole desk, I heard a door slam shut followed by heavy steps coming up the stairs.
THUD! THUD! THUD!
I looked around frantically, trying to find a place to hide. The stomps came down the hallway as I stood there, panicking.
THUD THUD THUD!
Finally, I hurried over to the wardrobe and climbed inside. I closed the doors just as the room door opened.

Henry walked in and crossed the room, over to the desk. The two doors to the wardrobe weren't closed all the way, leaving a little crack for the perfect view of Henry at the desk. He pulled open a drawer and got out a ballpoint pen and used his teeth to take off the cap. He pulled the paper with all the names on it and scribbled across it then replaced the cap and the pen in the drawer.

Henry turned to the wardrobe and took a step towards me. He unbuttoned his light blue dress shirt and what I saw made me cover my mouth to stop a gasp. The front of his white tank top was covered in blood. Splattered in all directions like an abstract painting. There was no "maybe it was ketchup" about it. Blood is a certain shade of red that nothing else is and his shirt had that very color.

"There goes another one." He grumbled, pulling it over his head. He reached for the wardrobe.

My eyes widen with panic, my breath leaves in quick succession and my heart comes to a stop. I'm right on the other side of the two doors. I can't hide, I can't run. If those doors open, that's it, I'll be caught.

His long, boney fingers wrapped around the small knob as a loud crash sounded from somewhere else. Outside maybe?

"What the hell?! These damn kids, I swear." He retracts his hand and puts his blue shirt back on, buttoning only the middle few before stomping out of the room.

My hand shook while it still covered my mouth. A tear trickled down the side of my cheek as I sat there, waiting for his footsteps to grow faint. I heard Henry screaming something inaudible, then the backdoor slamming shut. I pushed open the wardrobe and closed it behind me.

Why does he scare me so much? I've done things like this before. Why is it that this time gets to me?

My legs felt like jell-o and my stomach got queazy as I stepped over his blood stained shirt. I pulled out my phone and took a shaky, unfocused picture of it.

Before leaving the room, I looked at the note. At first glance, nothing seems to have changed. But a second time over revealed one major difference.

Shelby's name was crossed out.

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*Author's Note*

What do you all think about that strange note and about Henry? What's really going on in this house?

Hope you enjoyed this chapter!
As always,
Happy Reading!

~ZeB