I pray that I won’t disturb the party too much by sneaking in and running out. I open the front door slowly. I peek inside and see no one around. It looks like the party is upstairs for a change. I open the door fully and almost jump when I see a man and a woman making out on my living room couch. They seem to have no clue I’m in the room and I walk past them without them noticing.
Candles are lit throughout the house. My mom thinks it’s fun lighting up parties with as many candles as possible instead of lightbulbs. She thinks it brings a certain aura to a party, but if you’re not high like them, it comes off eerie as hell.
I open my bedroom door and sneak inside, closing it behind me. I grab my backpack, and stuff some clothes in it. I stuff my fantasy book inside as well. I search my room and make sure I have all the important things one would need before running away.
I almost run over to my bed in shock. I can’t believe I almost didn’t bring it. I reach my hand between my mattress and boxspring and fish out my journal. I’ve written in it since I was fifteen. I’ve written every great and terrible moment in my life in it. It’s been a friend to me in times when I was too shy to speak to even Candice. It knows my deepest secrets. Somehow in my haste, I almost forgot it.
I look behind me and notice James Richardson looking at me with a smirk, his head tilted. The candles from outside my room give him a dark silhouette but his smell gives him away.
“Now where are you going, little birdy? Are you leaving the nest?”
“James, just leave me alone.” I whisper back.
James looks up. You can hear the muffled footsteps and music from the party upstairs. “Your dad knows you didn’t go to Mike Townley’s home today. He’s pissed. I can help you. I can sneak you out. You can stay at my place for a bit until things cool down.”
“No thanks.” I say carefully.
“Oh, come on little birdy. I don’t bite.” He gets closer to me and I take a step back. He takes another step and I take another step backwards, hitting the side of my bed frame. His grin grows larger. I quickly grab the kitchen knife under my bed and point it at him. He laughs again as if my actions are meaningless. He backs away and leaves my room completely.
“I guess I have no reason to protect you.” He says. He turns and walks towards the stairs. “Hey Ron! Ron!”
I quickly run out of my room. “Wait!”
He looks at me playfully. “Yes?”
“Please James, don’t tell my dad I’m here. You’re right, I need your help.” He smiles at me and walks closer. He looks at the knife firmly in my grasp and I lower it.
“I’m glad you came to your senses, little birdy. Now, I can help you, but I need something from you.” He walks closer to me, his smile wider than ever.
I look at my father’s workstation. Several candles are lit. The large canister labelled ‘extremely flammable’ is above them on a shelf.
I smile back at James.
Chapter 3
A social worker is looking at me strangely, sitting on the side of his fancy desk, wearing a suit. Unlike the last social worker I met, he isn’t smiling. He is also much older, and not as handsome. He introduced himself as Ted Silvers when we first met. When he looks at me all I sense is his pity for my situation.
Ted Silvers fixes his thick dark-framed glasses on his nose and hands me a form. “This is for your release of your parent’s bodies. The coroner’s office will cremate them at no expense to you. Since you’re an adult you can sign for this instead of an uncle or aunt.”
I look at him, not knowing what to say other than thanks. I don’t feel like letting him know that I don’t have any aunts or uncles, or any family left in this world.
Ted Silvers looks at me again, the pity more evident. “Would you like their remains?”
I shake my head no. He nods his head. Ted asks me if I know if my parents had a will, but I’m pretty sure they don’t. The home was rented, and my dad despises banks. Any money or important belongings burnt up in the house with them.
“One of the detectives said they wanted to talk to you again. Apparently, there are several bodies who they can’t identify, and nobody is coming forward with any missing person claims or anything like that.”
I don’t know most of my parent’s friends. They are mostly junkies, who I try to not affiliate myself with unless forced to. I tell him I’ll call the detective back.
“Do you have a place to stay tonight?”
I nod my head. “I’m staying at a motel. I’ve got a little cash on me for a few more nights.” He asks for the address in case he needs to follow-up with me again.
“Do you have any family or friends that you can stay with?”
I wave my head. “I’ll be fine.” I say with confidence.
“We have emergency psychologists who I’ve arranged to speak to you.” Ted says.
I wave my hand. “I’d just like to leave to be honest.”
Ted shakes my hand and offers to pay for a taxi to get me to my motel. I thank him but decline. On my way back to the motel I stop by what remained of my home. The top portion exterior of the home
