Page 3 of Loving Trent (Love in the Bootheel #5)

As the memory fades, my hand pushes open the door, and I find the room set up the same way it was on that fateful day.

I don’t want to step inside the building.

Panic claws at my chest, fear restricts my throat, and pain laces my stomach.

The room starts to spin, and I clamp my eyes shut.

Bringing my shaky hand up, I place it under my leather jacket, against the soft cotton of my white t-shirt, and press it against my chest. The solid, albeit fast, beating of my heart centers me.

I focus on regulating my breathing and letting the feeling of my heart calm the monster inside me.

Once I have control over my body and emotions, I open my eyes and take the first step inside.

Shutting the door is out of the question, not just because the room is stifling already with a strong mold smell, but because I need to know I’m not trapped.

There is a layer of dirt covering every surface.

Sweat rolls down my back, and a shiver races through me thanks to the lingering feeling of that memory.

Continuing to walk, I don’t stop until I’m in front of the bed.

The bed of my nightmares. I wasn’t the only kid who faced what happened here.

I swear in the silence around me, there are echoes of long-forgotten screams. The pleading for it to stop.

The begging of someone… anyone to come rescue us.

In here, with no one around, I allow the broken thirteen-year-old version of myself that still lives inside me to come out.

I allow him to feel his emotions. My eyes fill with tears, and I don’t hold them back like I usually would.

No, I allow them to run freely down my face and onto my hands.

I know what people see when they look at me.

They believe me to be a hard, uncaring, emotionless asshole, and that’s just the way I like it.

But that’s all an act. A mask that I have to put on every morning before getting out of bed.

It’s the only way I survive day-to-day life.

I don’t like showing my true self, but no one is here to see me break down.

Only the ghost of my innocence is here to witness the fact that I’m still that thirteen-year-old boy who just wants someone to love me for who I am.

I’m not sure if that will ever change. If there will ever be someone who will finally earn my trust enough to let them in…

all the way in. I’ve destined myself to be alone for the rest of my life, and just like the mask, I have to fight myself every morning to be okay with that reality.

Because I don’t believe that there is anyone who could love the broken little boy that resides deep inside my chest.

Shaking my head to rid it of the dark, bottomless, and strong vortex that is trying to consume me, I stand up and walk out the door.

After six months of searching long into the night to find this place again, I’m not about to sit in a room crying.

Not when I need to find something that will lead me to the elusive people I’m searching for.

I head down the path back to camp with the sound of the forest as my company.

I never did go into the woods, so I’m not sure what lives in them, but I hear the telltale signs of life just beyond the tree line.

I just hope that whatever animals live there are doing it peacefully.

This place needs some peace after the horrors it held for so long.

I don’t stop walking until I’m staring up at the red brick house.

Unlike the other buildings, the house has clear signs of abandonment.

The once pristine red brick is now muted in color, and there are cracks in some of them.

The wooden porch that used to have a swing attached to its roof and two rocking chairs is now empty.

The wood is rotten in multiple places, and I’m a little wary of its ability to hold my weight.

All the windows have been busted out by Mother Nature or people who have stumbled across this place.

I cross my fingers that if it were people, they left enough of the inside alone to not make my life harder.

My contact said that the owners left in a hurry, and I’m hoping that in their hurry, they left something behind that will be of great service to me.

Shifting the pack on my back higher, I step onto the porch and kick the door open.

I could have easily just opened the damn thing, but that’s not what I felt like doing.

The inside is… Simply put, destroyed. It’s clear that this has been used as a place for parties.

Littered across every available surface is trash, mainly consisting of beer bottles and cigarette butts.

Although there are a few empty condom wrappers, a stained mattress, and other things in the mess.

Deciding to save the basement for last, I go in search of the office.

Over my two years here, I was never allowed anywhere in the main house.

I was always brought into the basement through the outside entrance.

But finding the office is easy, up the stairs and the first door on the right.

The door is open, and just like downstairs, it’s a mess in here.

There is minimal furniture left behind. A dark oak desk is in the middle of the room, and the back wall is full of filing cabinets.

All the drawers are standing open, and it’s easy to see that someone has gone through the files.

There are papers everywhere, but at least they are still here.

I dump my bag on the desk and stroll to the first filing cabinet on the left side.

I close the top drawer and see that the label has only a year written on it.

I find the following year when I look at the label on the drawer right below it.

It doesn’t take me long to find the year I got here.

I start looking through the files until I find the one with my name on it.

Snatching it up, I turn around and place it on the desk, but don’t stop my search.

It takes multiple trips to get the files stacked on the desk.

I move on to searching the desk, knowing that the actual information I’m looking for won’t be kept with the files on the children that lived here.

All the drawers on the desk are open except for the bottom left one.

Reaching down, I pull the butterfly knife from my boot and work on breaking the lock.

I’m sure my information guy could have found this information more quickly and efficiently than I, but I wanted to do it myself.

I had to do this myself. Inside the drawer are more files, which I remove and put on top of the desk.

Once all of them are out, I make sure that there isn’t a hidden compartment.

When I find nothing, I pull out the chair, sit down, and pull the bottom file from under the stack. My file, and then I start to read.