Welcome Home, Rose

One

Bennington Parque Welcomes You

Home of Fallen Four's Tyson Turner

Five years later and one of the few changes to my hometown was the sign to commemorate my brother's claim to fame. My parents' killer, dubbed "The Backroads Killer" was never found, their case never solved, going ice cold on the shelves. Tyson went to Florida, leaving me in our hometown to handle their funeral arrangements. Randy helped me the best he could. When the funerals were over, I packed my bags moving over eight hours away to Cornell Lake. With a fresh start I began my new life going to school majoring in English Literature and working full-time as a librarian at the Cornell Lake Public Library.

I received a call from Randy, the Bennington Parque township wanted to make my home a historical landmark. I had been holding off coming home for the longest time. My family's legacy, my parents, and the memories were still too much for me to handle. I turned the radio down taking in the woods surrounding the entrance, slowing down just as the Bennington Parque Fire Station came into view. The station signified the official entrance to the town's limits. It wouldn't be too long before our little house would come into view.

I pulled into the driveway, taking immediate comfort in Randy's jet-black Chevy Silverado parked in the garage. In my absence he had been taking care of the place. My mom's gardens still looked absolutely gorgeous, her prized bleeding hearts thriving in their various rainbows of color. My dad's lawn looked as prestigious as ever. Closing my eyes, I made myself take several deep breaths. I would only be here a total of three weeks, enough time to sign the paperwork handing the last piece of my past over and moving forward. With one last deep breath I exhaled and exited my car.

There were two entrances to the Turner household, the main entrance where you would use the porch steps. The second was the side entrance which led you straight into the kitchen. I chose the front my hand hesitating inches above the doorknob. Taped to the front door was a single note, under normal circumstances this would not have bugged me. Delaney Turner was notorious for leaving notes on the front door. My mother had been dead for five years, the piece of paper in front of me felt like a knife being driven straight into my heart. I ripped it off, unfolding it, the message simple yet haunting, the feeling brought out more by the red ink the author had used.

Welcome Home, Rose.

Shoving the note into my pocket I opened the front door and stepped inside. Randy had done an amazing job preserving the front entrance, the carpet still felt as soft as a cloud. Each step you would take barefoot would feel like a dream come true. Tyson's room was the first bedroom to the right. The stairs to the left led to my room, my parents' room, a very small storage space, and the full bathroom.

"Welcome home, baby girl."

Randy Ebert held his open his arms, I ran straight into them just like I had done as a little girl. He was six foot two, well-built due to his farm work and contracting business. He kept his dark blond hair semi long and gelled back to showcase his baby blue eyes and slightly stubbled jawline. His upper arms were decorated with various tattoos, he never left the house unless he had his jeans, his chuck taylors, classic rock t-shirt, and flannel shirt.

"How was the drive." He asked, keeping an arm around my shoulders.

"Long, I stopped a few times." I answered. I wasn't the biggest fan of driving after what happened to my parents. It took almost four years for me not to have a panic attack before getting behind the wheel.

"I've got your room all prepped at my place. Winchester and Remington are excited to see you." He smiled. Remington and Winchester were the names of his German Shepherds. The two of them were absolute sweetheart, changing into fierce attack dogs if they didn't know you.