Before It Ends • Hessa • Emery Scott

𝔽𝕠𝕣𝕥𝕪 𝕊𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟

I nod as she speaks, noting things down in my brain. "You sure you don't want to go in?" I question, hoping to dear God she'll say I'm right and that she should actually accompany me.

She shakes her head vigorously, her eyes becoming grave and her frown increasing. "I don't ever want to go in that house again."

I'm quick to nod my head, praying to the Lord above that she won't start crying right now. "Alright, I'll be back."

I begin to walk towards the front door, but I quickly turn when I hear Emery call my name. "Yeah?" I inquire.

"In my drawer, on the left side of my bed... there's a book. Will you get that for me too?" Her expression seems so soft and vulnerable. She has worn that expression all day. Her eyes have been sadder and her posture slouching. She seems to have her guard completely down for me, which is odd. Maybe that's why she's allowing me inside of her house without her. Maybe she has finally given up on keeping up the wall that was so strong before. It's slowly crumbling brick by brick. I don't know how I feel about that.

"I will." I call back, turning back around and heading up the porch steps.

The house is quite large and empty. There's caution tape in the living room around the broken coffee table, and against the kitchen island, where the living room and kitchen meet, there's someone cleaning up blood on the floor.

I gulp nervously, looking away quickly and facing the stairs. I go up them, repeating Emery's instructions inside my head as I look around.

I feel like I should be in one of those murder mystery movies. Those always make me feel unsafe but I can't stop watching it until I know they found and arrested the killer.

Once I make it to the last door, my anxiety grows. Do I want to open this door and rummage through Emery's things? She gave me the OK but I still feel slightly awkward.

I take a deep breath as I twist the doorknob, walking inside and looking around. It's really messy in here, but which seventeen year old's room isn't?

I head straight for her closet, looking around for any sort of bag I can put her clothes in. Once I find a brown leather-like satchel I head to her drawer and slowly open the top one.

I suddenly feel like a creep when I find panties and bras are her first drawer. While looking away, because I'm not a creep, I drop a few bras and panties into her bag. I make sure to drop at least one lace bra. I'm not a creep, but I am a man.

Next drawer is her jeans. Black... black... black... black... blue jeans? I chuckle a little at the image that flashes in my brain. I could never see her in skinny blue jeans like these... I pick them up and throw them into the bag anyways. I also pack two black ones because I know she only really wants those.

The next drawer, and final drawer, holds her t-shirts and I smile at all the colors I see. She has white shirts on top, but below the white shirts I can see green and blue and even one pink shirt tucked away behind them.

I smile softly as I pack all the colored shirts. She'd look nice in color. I wonder why she stopped wearing colors... I also pack two white shirts for her.

She says she isn't running away and is only staying in a hotel until she can find somewhere else to crash.

And to make sure she doesn't run away forever I'm going to leave clothes here for her, just in case she decides to come back.

I then pause, trying to think of the things she wanted me to get for her. What was it...

A book...