Beauty in the Ashes

Her face reddened and her glare was withering. “You know why I’m mad,” she spat.

“Hey,” I stepped away, towards Kyle, “I was only looking out for you.”

“Uh…” Kyle squirmed, clearly uncomfortable. “Is this some kind of lover’s quarrel? Should I leave?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Sutton,” I scowled.

“Caelan.” She crossed her arms and tapped her foot against the driveway.

“She’s mad that you’re here,” I explained to Kyle, not caring if it pissed her off further. She was being dumb.

“No,” she shook her head adamantly. “I’m mad that you don’t think I can handle myself. I think I’ve proven that I’m stronger than I look.”

I let out a sigh. I was about three seconds away from dragging her ass back to the car and making her wait there.

“This,” I shoved a finger over my shoulder at the house I had yet to take one look at, “is going to be really hard for me. Impossibly so. Stop acting like a fucking child. This isn’t about you, and you know it.”

She smiled slowly and then flounced by me, heading for the house. “It got you to get out of the car, didn’t it?”

That little faker! I was going to toss her over my shoulder and spank her ass for this.

“Come on,” Kyle forced me to turn around. “It’s time to get this over with. You’ve been putting this off for…” He counted on his fingers, and then said, “Too long.”

I sighed. He was right. Sutton was right. Everyone had been right. I had to face this. Every day that I stayed away only made this harder.

Are you there? I asked Cayla.

I’m here. Her voice echoed through my skull. Even when you can’t hear me, I’m here for you. Always.

I closed my eyes as I soaked in the warmth I always felt when Cayla was near. Before their murders, I’d never believed in ghosts or anything like that. But now? Yeah, there was definitely something to the afterlife.

Finding some inner strength I normally lacked, I opened my eyes, and looked at my house for the first time since I’d been taken away in a police car—handcuffed.

I couldn’t breathe.

It was like all the oxygen in the world was suddenly gone and I was suffocating.

The house…it hadn’t changed. It was still exactly the same.

It was a two-story brick front home. Steps led up the front door that was painted a cherry red color. A wreath still hung on the door—the same wreath that had been there that night.

I don’t know what I had expected, but it wasn’t this.

I guess I thought the yard would’ve become a jungle, overtaking the house and everything else. I believed the paint would be faded and chipped and it would have the overall appearance of being abandoned—because it was.

That’s not what it looked like though.

It was exactly like my parent’s had left it.

They’d both prided themselves on our house looking nice. They’d been the people always working in the yard. My dad mowed the grass and my mom planted flowers that she spent the entire summer tending to.

I felt relieved that it hadn’t changed.

“It’s the same,” I whispered.