Page 115 of Fractured Fear

Finally arriving at the address, I take a moment to reel in my nerves. I can’t go in there with this intense, high-strung energy and then expect them to just let me leave.

Their brownstone is not what I expected. I mean, I didn’t think I would find beer cans on the small lawn, but I also didn’t expect to find it so cozy and clean.

I wait a few minutes, but the only sign that someone is home is Zane’s Honda Civic in the driveway. They may have taken Asher’s car somewhere and gone out together.

Yeah, that’s probably it.

Perhaps I should leave a note on the doorstep. Let them know, I'm gone. But I don’t want it to blow away.

I could leave it inside.

Is it breaking and entering if I have a key?

Glancing up and down the street, I make my way to their front door. I don’t know why I’m so nervous to go inside. It’s not like someone is going to jump out and say, “Hey! You can’t do that!”

I unlatch the deadbolt, turn the knob, and try to push the door open but it won’t budge. It’s definitely unlocked so what the hell?

Shoving my shoulder into the door, there’s only an inch of movement.

So that’s why it’s unlocked.

Using my hip I give the wood a good couple bumps. It finally opens without so much as a squeak. I stand there staring at the open doorway.

Am I really going to do this?

Apparently.

Ugh. Suck it up, Spencer. Be a big girl and just put one foot in front of the other. You’re not a burglar, you’re just leaving a note. You’re more like Santa Claus.

I go straight for the kitchen and don't allow myself to get caught up in admiring the nice couch or gawking at the plain decor. I find a pen and a paper menu for Sal’s.

God, these men and their pizza.

On the back of the paper I scribble out a note and demand my tears to stay put.

Thump.

What the hell was that?

I keep my body impossibly still, listening for the noise again. Nothing happens so I finish my note with a little heart and “Love, Spence.” It may be ridiculous to add a heart seeing how their radio silence speaks volumes, but I can’t end the note without some kind of indication that I still care.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

I set the pen down and follow the source of the noise. Tiptoeing across the wood floors, I don’t make a sound. The last thing I need is one of the guys finding me creeping around their house.

Thump.

With ominous energy in the air, I find myself in front of a door behind the staircase.

That’s not creepy at all. I should turn around and leave the way I came.

What if one of them is stuck down there and needs help?

My hand automatically wraps around the doorknob before I am able to talk myself out of it.

Oh God. I’m going to bethatgirl, aren’t I? The one that goes into the eerie basement like an idiot even though she’s being chased by an ax murderer. Nothing good ever happens in basements.

Dropping my hand, I take a step back, but then there’s anotherthumpfollowed by a painful moan.

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