Blood Tears - Editing in process.

Chapter 6 - Answers from Home

"What have I done?!" Spoke as a whisper, Vickey tried to calm her self down, "God, what have I done!" This time she felt the need to shout her feelings to the world. hearing Nancy's quiet sobs from the other side of the wall, Vickey stopped, falling silent with her ear up against the peeling wallpaper.

"Nancy..." She whispered, " Tell me, why are you crying? I don't want you to cry, and why did Brendan say that you are not capable of doing things at the moment? And why are you sorry?!" Vickey's voice had raised to a low shout by the end. 

All that Vickey could hear was a mumbling reply through the layers of plaster, birck and wall papers. There was no use, Nancy was to worked up to even speak loud enough for Vickey to hear. There was nothing left for her to do, she was locked in a room, so she decided to explore the room.

Slowly, she crept towards the wardrobe, she didn't know what she was expecting to find, but it might give her some sort of ideas for her many questions. Reaching her arm out to the handle, Vickey placed her other hand up against the door, just to make sure that it didn't fly open.

The door opened as Vickey had expected, smoothly. It didn't fly open, creak or even need a little more effort to pull. Vickey didn't know what she was even thinking of course nothing like that would happen, it's just a wardrobe. 

In the wardrobe there were clothes, dresses, jeans, t-shirts and plenty of other items on hangers and floded over the rail, but there was also a small wooden box on the base. It was decorated with small butterflies, dragonflies and bumble bees that glistened in the small amount of light that the door aloud into the wardrobe.

Picking it up, Vickey saw that it had been hand made, its hinges were polished and on the lid was written, 'Treasured Moments'. Vickey clicked the latch on the front, lifting the lid gently, and was surprised with what she found. It certainly answered one of her questions.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

The box was filled with scans, black, white and grey baby scans. Vickey understood. This must be Nancy's room, she should have realised from the style of clothes in the wardrobe, they were just like what Nancy had worn each time Vickey had seen her. "I'd make a rubbish detective..." Vickey murmered to herself.

That meant that Nancy was pregnant, and that was why she wasn't capable of much, but that still didn't answer why she was crying and why she kept on saying sorry. Vickey couldn't help but assume that the reason Nancy was crying was either the baby, Vickey or Brendan, or all of them. She wouldn't know until she could ask Nancy herself.

She would have to try and get out of this room to calm Nancy down enough for Vickey to be able to hear her. Vickey looked around the room, trying to think sensibly, which was starting to become a habbit, about what she could do. 

Looking to her right, Vickey could see a small mahogany desk. Attatched to it was an oval mirror, with beautifully carved wooden flowers, butterflies and swirls surrounding it. It looked just like Vickey's Beauty desk in her room at home. Vickey walked over to the desk, stroking its familiar wooden feel, reminding herself of home.

She looked at herself in the dazzaling mirror, she looked a mess. She wished she could go home, have a nice hot shower back in her bathroom and get a change of her clothes, speak to her father and brothers after what had felt like months of torture away form them. It was now that Vickey realised how much she really did love her family, how much she really missed them and how much she needed to get back home to them.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Reaching her hand out towards the two small drawers, Vickey thought about all the times that she had spent in her bedroom, doing her hair and her make-up in front of this exact mirror. She had opened and close drawers just like these, pulling out hairbands and hairgrips out of one and make-up brushes and eyeshadow from another. 

Vuckey knew exactly what she was looking for, something that would act as a lockpick. She had seen it  done so many times on t.v, how hard could it be? Rumaging through the drawers, Vickey found plenty of sharp objects, a pair of earings, an extremely shaperned eyeliner, none of which would work as a lockpick. Finally, after looking through both drawers and a jewellery box, Vickey found a small box full of hair grips.

Unfloding it until it was just one long metal strip, Vickey made her way to the door. Kneeling near the door, Vickey began trying to twist the grip into the lock as if it were a key. She didn't have much time, Brendan could come home at any minute, however Vickey thought that he seemed like the late night kind of person. 

Eventually the lock clicked, Vickey had done it. After a good half an hour, her hands burning from pinching the hair grip so hard, Vickey had achieved something at least. She slowly turned the handle in her hand, pushing gently on the wooden door frame. 

She walked out of the bedroom, and down the hall way. The floorboards creaked and the carpet had frayed in most places. She could hear Nnancy's sobs coming from down the corridor.