He's not there anymore.
With an irritated sigh, I headed to the house. Dew soaked my pants from the overgrown lawn and I felt my anger deepen. The stairs groaned under my weight as I ascended. Unsurprisingly he hadn't maintained them either and I could feel the rotting wood flex beneath my boots. I half expected them to give way at any moment and my muscles tensed in anticipation.
I somehow reached the decking without falling through and used my momentum to carry me to the door.
I hesitated, my hand grasping the familiar doorknob. Should I just walk in? Should I knock? This wasn't my house anymore and it had never been a home to me. Home was where you felt safe and nothing about this place had ever felt that way.
The familiar chill crept up my spine; warning me to stay away. My training had taught me to stand firm in the face of fear. But nothing could really make me forget the old terror of this place. I gripped the handle tighter and twisted.
The door swung open, banging against the wall inside. I resisted the urge to flinch at the sound; he wasn't there anymore. I didn't need to creep in and I didn't need to stay quiet.
“Diane?” I called as I stepped over the threshold. I’d stopped calling her mom a long time ago.
The house was gloomy. No lights were on and she'd left the blinds closed. I moved into the kitchen and pulled the cord to open them and let some light in.
I wrinkled my nose as the smell of gone off food reached me. Dirty cups and plates were stacked all around the counters and the trashcan overflowed in the corner.
It didn't look like she'd lifted a finger since he'd died. I wondered if it was a side effect of her sudden freedom or an indication of her grief. Whatever it was, it was disgusting. I turned my back on the repulsive kitchen, making a mental note to get takeout for dinner.
“Diane?” I called louder as I made my way down the hall.
I stopped to open the curtains in the front room, noting the musty smell and more unwashed crockery as I did. I began to wonder if she was even here, though the back door had been unlocked which suggested she was.
I headed upstairs, my feet dodging the creaky floorboards out of long-formed habit. I had no reason to avoid them now, he wasn't going to hear me coming in. He wasn't going to come looking for me in my bedroom, brandishing the belt that he never used. The belt was good for threats but he always preferred his fists for action. I could only presume he had liked to feel my flesh cave beneath his.
I glanced towards the semi-safety of my old room, wondering what had happened to my things. It wouldn't surprise me to find out he'd burned them.
Their room was in the opposite direction, at the end of the hall. I stalked towards it, ignoring the voices in my head warning me to turn away. There were too many damn ghosts lingering in this place. I never should have come.
“Diane?” I called again, pushing their bedroom door wide.
A figure was curled in the centre of the bed, wrapped in blankets that covered her from head to toe. She flinched away fro
m my voice, pulling the covers tighter about her small body.
“I'm here,” I said, unsure of how else to announce myself to the lump in the bed. “Like you asked.”
Her phone call had contained little more than sobbing and pleas to see me. At first I'd thought she'd finally left him but it turned out he'd gone and died. I should have known she'd never leave, but for a few short minutes I'd believed in her. Believed that she'd finally chosen me. Pity I was so stupid, those wounds had healed over but I had to go and rip them open again. Poor little Lincoln, his momma never loved him.
“Lincoln?” she gasped, fighting her way out of the sheets.
She crawled across the bed to me, stumbling as the twisted blankets snaked around her legs.
She was a small woman, smaller than I remembered.
With a gasp of relief or pain or some emotion that I couldn't quite place, she flung her arms around my waist, pressing her face against my chest as she knelt on the bed.
I held my arms out in surprise, not sure what to do with them. The obvious answer would be to return her embrace but I couldn't bring myself to do it. She wasn't what I wished she would be and she never would be. Her long, dark hair was matted into a knot at the back of her head, the roots shining with grease. It was clear that she'd given me her colouring even if she'd never given me anything else.
The shirt she wore must have been his. It swamped her, the flannel material hiding her small frame beneath a layer of stained red checks.
“I knew you'd come my gorgeous boy,” she cooed, maintaining her grip on my torso. “You wouldn't leave your momma alone.”
“Shame the same couldn't be said for you,” I growled, prising her arms off of me.
She sank down onto the bed and stared up at me with the deep brown eyes we shared. She looked like a little bird, waiting for the world to decide what to do with her. I forced myself to soften, allowing a drop of pity into my heart so that I could help her.
“You need to get out of this room.” I moved away and threw the curtains wide.