The Murder House

Nineteen- This Went Well, Did It Not?

Gray's P.O.V

Me and Amelia follow Ash out of the house, and down the street.

Ash says Madison and Michael will find Kira, and come after us.

I don't regret it.

I don't think Amelia is really bothered anymore, either. She acts like it bothers her- that it was wrong- but I think she's glad to be rid of another person after us.

We won't try to fight Madison or Michael. It would be a death wish. I'll find a way to get me and Amelia away from Ash, then we can get home.

Ash walks into the last house on the street, leaving the door swinging open. I grab Amelia by the sleeve, stopping her from going in.

"I can take us home." I say, "We don't have to go in there. They could be tricking us."

"We don't know how to get home yet." Amelia says, "Do we?"

"Well, sorta." I say, "We can talk about that when we're away from Ash."

"Okay, I get that you don't trust them." She says, "I don't really trust them either. But we'll stay here for a little until we can get home."

"It won't end well." I say.

"Maybe not." Amelia says, "But we can at least try it."

"Yeah, but anything goes wrong and we're dead." I argue.

"We could get away." She says, "Okay? You say the word and we'll go. Just give them a chance."

"I gave them a chance." I say, "That led to them holding me at knife point."

"We'll just try." Amelia says.

"There's no point." I say, "I'm telling you, we'll both be dead."

"It'll be fine." Amelia tells me. She walks inside. I stand out for a bit, looking back at the house we were in earlier. Kira's body is still in there, with the dirt and smashed glass. The sky is getting dark again, already.

The street is peaceful. Peaceful in a seriously creepy, abandoned sort of way, but still peaceful either way.

A shout and something smashing behind me breaks the eerie peace. I spin around. The door to the house is still open, revealing a narrow hallway lit with a dim, flickering light.

I step into the house, deciding to investigate. I think of calling Amelia's name, but my footsteps echo on the cold floor and something tells me not to speak.

Something must fall upstairs, as I hear the noise of it dropping and a yell. I freeze, listening. Everything goes quiet. I notice a small, glowing, orange light coming from a room to my left. I look inside. The room is empty, apart from a lit fireplace, a chair, and a pile of books. I watch the flickering fireplace for a moment. A shiver runs through me. I have the weirdest feeling that I am being watched.

I step away from the room, and walk to the bottom of the stairs. They are only narrow, wooden stairs. A worn rug covers about half of them. The banister looks like it may have once been painted blue, but most of it has fallen away. I head up them, careful to stay close to the wall, far away from the drop to the bottom.

At the top of the stairs, I stop. I am in another sort-of hallway. One door is in front of me, and there is another to my side. There is a window that has been smashed in. Faded pink curtains wave lazily in the wind. A painted picture of what may have been flowers hangs lopsided on the wall. A piece of paper is on the floor in front of the first door.

I pick up the paper, and turn it over.

I actually liked her a little.

It reads.