Laced

Laced - Chapter 49 (Uncovering the Past)

Disclaimer: This was written over 10 years ago, and the author no longer agrees with many of the concepts found in this story. Some of the content will be cringey and/or problematic. Please remember this is entirely fictional and does not represent the author's beliefs.

Twitter: dazzleizzy

Copyright © 2012-2023

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Abby's POV

He pushes the little key into the lock of the old wooden door, and it creaks as he unlocks it.

After a bit of a struggle, he manages to push open the door. It creaks again as it moved - the sound of its disuse making itself prominent.

"Come in." He orders, and walks into the dark of the small ranch house. "There's a light here somewhere..." he trails off, moving out of my sight.

Struggling to see him in the dark, I hesitate to go inside.

"Abigail, I said to come in. You're going to get cold." His voice comes from ahead, but I can't see him.

I shift the weight of the grocery bags in my hands - he hadn't let me carry my own suitcases, insisting for me to just follow him inside. When I argued back, wanting to help out in some way, he finally agreed to let me bring in the things we'd purchased at Wal-Mart.

"Ahh, here it is." He says, and then the room is filled with a faded yellow light. He frowns when realizes I'm still standing just outside the door, and he motions for me to come in.

As I take a step inside, the floorboard creaks underneath my foot. Master Zayn sets the two suitcases down onto the ground, and then steps around me to shut the door.

I'm curiously taking in my surroundings - we were in a small entryway hallway, and the walls were wallpapered with vintage flower patterns, tearing at the edges. The floor was made of cherry hardwood, scratches scattering the wood.

"Give me those, follow me." He grabs the groceries from my hands before I could protest, and then turns around and walks away from me, not waiting to check if I was following. I sigh, and then pad my way behind him.

The miniature hallway lead to a open but modest living room, with a set of chestnut leather couches surrounding a middle coffee table. There was an old flat screen TV set, which looked untouched for at least a decade or so. The house was eerily quiet, except for the floorboards that moaned as we stepped on them.

"The kitchen is here." He says, and turns to the left. The kitchen is modest, but nice. It seemed well kept, even though I could tell it hadn't been used in years. There's a small microwave oven on top of the vinyl counter tops near stove, and I dare to take a cautious step inside.

Zayn steps to one of the empty counters, and sets the groceries down. "I think this should still be working." He speaks, his voice low as he approached the refrigerator.

Opening the door, a gust of cold air rushes out, and he nods to himself. "It still does."

"Let's put the stuff away, and then I can give you a tour of this place."

I agree by nodding my head silently,and step over to the counter where he'd set all the groceries we'd purchased. There wasn't much, but it was enough to keep the both of us well fed for the weekend. I grabbed the half gallon of almond milk and placed it inside the refrigerator, along with the steak cuts.

I looked over my shoulder to find Master Zayn placing the cereal box and chips bags into one of the shelves in the empty pantry.

"Here put that in the freezer, so it'll get cold faster." He commands softly, handing me the two liter bottle of Coca-Cola.