SHIFTER ─ marvel

XV. It Wasn't A Mistake

I don't know what the hell that means, but as I look to Soroya, I think she may have an idea in mind. The inside of this living room is even more ugly than it was when we saw it the other day. I know that's not the thing to think of how, but even through the blood I feel the ceramic cats mocking me. It looks so different from what I remember. The only thing that I think looks the same is the carpet, but now instead of cream it's crimson.

Thankfully the bodies of the old couple have been taken out, but even without them here, I find myself feeling lightheaded, and it isn't from the blood. The fact anything terrible, let alone a murder, would happen under this roof, is more than I can process. This was our home, our safe place, the place Soroya and I grew up in. Nothing bad is supposed to happen here. And yet, here we are.

Soroya and I have the same idea in mind, because without having to say it, we both make our way upstairs. This will probably the only time we can really see our old house again, so we're going to make the most of it.

Mama and Papa's room is pretty much the same as what I remember; dark blue floral wallpaper, with dark wood floors and an in-suite bathroom. The furniture of course is different, and I'm not even going to acknowledge the leopard print decor in this room. I think I might just murder this couple all over again.

Mama and Papa's old room is to the right of the stairs, then next is the bathroom and the linen closet right next to each other. The two doors on the left lie the two guest bedrooms, one of which was used as our toy room when we were little. On the right side of the hall, is my room then Soroya's.

Gripping our hands tighter, Soroya and I slowly walk towards our old rooms. There was only a wall between our rooms, so on the little stretch of wall between the two doorways we used to measure our heights as we grew up. The scratching of our heights made by Mama and Papa are still there. I see tears slip down Soroya's eyes as she touches the scratching that says; Soroya - 4'8 - 9 years old.

I feel tears prickle my eyes as well, seeing the last scratching for both of us; fourteen years old for me, twelve years old for Soroya. We both glance into our rooms and I feel my heart falter. My room was turned into a storage space; filled to the brim with boxes of the old couple's things. Soroya is starring in disgust at her old room. I lean over to see that her room was made into an exercising room.

Despite the situation, I scoff. "I'm beginning to feel less and less sympathetic towards these people's untimely demise."

Soroya elbows me. "Do you ever take a day off?"

"Who would I be if I didn't fill uncomfortable situations with humor? Besides, I told you they turned one of our rooms into a exercise room. And I was right. An old man's ass sweat was filling the same room you used to fantasize about marrying Gene Kelly."

Soroya glares at me. "Don't make it weird...and I didn't fantasize about marrying Gene Kelly. Besides Fred Astaire, I dreamed of marrying Rock Hudson."

"Wasn't he gay?"

My sister shrugs. "Can't a twelve year old have a crush on a gay dead guy?"

"Now look whose making jokes. You're such a hypocrite. Do you think they turned our basement into a sex dungeon? I wouldn't put it past them after seeing the animal print monstrosity of their room. Wanna go look?"

Soroya wipes at her tears, nodding her head. "I want to see my old basement again, but I'm not routing to find a sex dungeon like you. You're really sick, you know that?"

"Part of my charm." I say

We make our way back down the stairs shortly after that. Even though I feel a tremendous amount of sorrow being in this house again, I, for a second, feel like we are kids again; rushing down the stairs to escape to the basement to play. I ignore the bloody living room and cryptic message as we make our way to the basement, wanting to relive in the past for just a moment longer.