Sunshine, Max Mayfield

𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘 - ROSIE 'SHERLOCK HOLMES' GRY

It was a humble abode, similar to Rosie's house further down the street, with a few spindly trees scattered here and there, but aside from an empty driveway, everything looked normal. Everything was almost abnormally in place.

"His car's not here," Max observed, and Rosie recalled the blue 1979 Chevrolet Camaro with an understandable lack of fondness.

"Hey, are you sure you wanna do this?" Rosie asked kindly, eyeing El who had been staring down the house as if it had personally wronged her, "We don't have to."

El just nodded, not bothering to even look at her in response.

The Mayfield's house was just as Rosie remembered it every time she had slept over. It was all old furniture and abstract paintings on the walls, and the occasional magazine tossed randomly on different surfaces. An aforementioned Cosmo sat dejectedly on the kitchen counter.

But they weren't there to investigate a middle-aged mom's reading habits. They were there for Billy.

Billy's room smelled like what Rosie could only describe as 'Billy Juice', aka the combined stench of cigarette smoke, sweat, toxic masculinity and unwashed gym shorts. Beer cans were scattered on just about everything, his desk, the floor and even on his bed. A stereo blasting heavy metal music next to a cigarette dish complimented the scantily clad posters of women plastered on the wall. Old workout gear covered a small, burnt orange couch, and his unmade bed just about completed the picture-perfect image of what Rosie had fully expected.

"Why do I get the feeling we're gonna find all kinds of wrong in here?" Max pondered aloud, mostly to herself, and Rosie couldn't help but agree.

Rosie gave the room yet another once-over, trying her best not to inhale the rancid smell while attempting to find anything suspicious.

If she was honest, this just seemed like your standard bedroom of a teenager with a mullet.

"Ugh, gag me with a spoon!" She heard from Max, who just slammed shut a drawer.

Rosie gathered there was most likely some... unsavoury content in there.

The bathroom was next, and El flicked on the lights to reveal the familiar blue seashell wallpaper and bright yellow shower curtain. Rosie glanced towards the mirror, taking in her cropped pink shirt and black sports shorts before she turned back towards the bathtub, which El was now staring at.

What made her stomach turn anxiously was that the bath was full, with not only water but the remnants of ice packaging floating atop it.

"Max?" El said quietly, and the girl in question quickly joined her and her girlfriend, peering into the tub curiously.

"Ice," Max wrote her off quickly, reaching it and grabbing one of the flimsy pieces of plastic, "It's just ice. Probably for his muscles or something. He works out like a maniac."

Rosie just nodded, finding her reasoning completely logical. And yet, something deep inside her was screaming at her to find something incriminating, to prove that Billy was bad news.

El's gaze swept over the bathroom before her dark eyes locked on something near the sink. When Rosie looked closer, an icy chill travelled down her spine.

There was blood on the cabinet handle.

The brunette was astutely aware of her own heartbeat and El's trembling breaths as she maneuvered towards the cabinet, bending low and fishing something out of it. A trash can, small enough to fit under the sink.

And yet large enough to fit an unmistakably red first aid bag and blood stained yellow lifeguard whistle.

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