A/N:please note there is some slightly disturbing material ahead. Listen to the music while you read this chapter//

I walked downstairs the next morning to find Aunt Tabby sitting in the living room with a glass of wine in her hands. I hada lot of questions for Tabby but from the looks of it she was not going to be able to answer my questions.

"Aunt Tabby", I said sympathetically. I walked over to Aunt Tabby wanting to comfort her but she pulled away from me. She kept her eyes to the floor so I couldn'tsee her face clearly. "Aunt Tabby, please, can I have the bottle?", I asked in a sickeningly sweet tone.

"No" Aunt Tabby whimpered. I went over to gentl take the nearly empty wine bottle out of her tumbling hands but then she looked up. I noticed her eyes were pitch black as she ripped the glass away. The red wine spilled on all of the white carpeting. The red stain spread like the color of blood over the carpet in an irremovable way. i waited for Aunt Tabby to yell. A few seconds passed. Instead of her screams, an animalistic noise tore through her, she was cackling like a witch.

"oh, I fucked up.... yet again", Aunt Tabby slurred as she swayed uncontrollably. "It looks just like your paint room. I let Samuel in last night. Did you know that? He wanted something from there. He loves you more than he loves me. Why couldn't he love me? What did you do for him to make him love you", Aunt Tabby said with tears bubbling over. I backed away from this stranger in front of her. I didn't know this creature that was sitting in front of me, but it wasn't my Aunt Tabby.

"What did you let him do to my paint room", I demanded with fear in the pit of my stomach. Aunt Tabby sat in a pool of wine, drowning in her sorrows, without a care in the world. It was the worst Aunt Tabby ever looked since I moved in all those years ago. I knew it wasn't easy but it seemed like we made progress these past few days. And still something was off; the feeling that this wasn't my Aunt sticking out strong.

"You'll see for yourself", she said as she laughed in my face. "It looks awful, absolutely awful. And you know what? He never found what he was looking for", she said in a sarcastic tone. I was fuming but inside I knew I had to see for myself. .

I ran towards the direction of my painting room feeling the pounding of my heartbeat in my ears. I tried to focus on the steady pacing of my feet. I was close to the paint room but fear gripped my heart in a tight fist. I felt like opening the door to the paint room would be like opening the door to pandora's box; i wasn't quite sure I was ready for answers. It turned out that I didn't need to open pandora's box because someone else had done it for me.The door to the painting room was ripped from its hinges. I had no choixe but to face the secrets hidden within this room.

As I stepped further into the room, I noticed the curtains in the painting room were slightly moved. I usually kept the windows closed so that I had my privacy as I painted. The person who came tumbling through here had mo respect for my privacy. That asshole destroyed my sanctuary and I was pissed.

I needed the temperature of the room to be set to a certain degree in order for the paint to keep its consistency. Instead, cool air blew into the room from a window that was left open carelessly.

The thing that hurt the most was that, for no real reason, Samuel splattered blood red paint over my panel art work. I stared at the painting with the dried red blood painted over the night sky in horror. I felt sadness because those memories that I longed for felt desecrated. A piece of my soul lived inside that painting and Samuel shattered it with his filthy and perverse hands.

It wasn't the only thing that he used to draw with blood red paint. On the wall It stated the following phrase in blood red paint; 'I will find it'. I tried to understand the meaning behind the phrase but nothing came to mind. Obviously, Samuel was a delusional man, Samuel was teetering on the edge of a tight rope.

Every single piece of artwork, that I worked on over the years, sat in a pile by my closet. This room was my untarnished safe zone where I expressed myself over the years. All of it was gone in the blink of an eye because of this washed up creep.

I wanted to thrash Aunt Tabby for letting such a waste of life into our already unsteady lives. However, there were other pressing matters at the forefront of my mind, such as; the reason Samuel was here in the first place. I had nothing of monetary value in this room. All of my personal belongings were in my bedroom upstairs.

"Fuck", I muttered in a fearful tone. I passed my drunk Aunt Tabby and rushed up the stairs like a crazy women. I looked around my bedroom as I frantically searched through all of my belongings. I ran my hands along the furniture knowing I would notice if anything was out of place. I stopped at my underwear drawer because the drawer was sticking out slightly.

I felt my insides churn as I opened the drawer nervously. All of the breath wooshed from my lungs in that moment. I looked down disgusted at the crumpled up underwear. On my underwear was a bloody thumb print. It was the same red blood that lined the paint room; Samuel was here. There was also a doll that I kept in this drawer but it was nowhere to be found. I felt myself starting to panic at the idea of Samuel touching my underwear. I needed to leave. I wasn't safe here anymore and I needed to let someone mot drunk know i was leaving.

I reached out for my phone and sent a text message to one of the few people that might be able to help; Ann. 'Leaving home. Tell Aunt Tabby not to look for me' I texted Ann. I wasn't sure where I was going but I wasn't staying here for another second.

Suddenly, my phone pinged, interrupting me from my thoughts. I thought it was Ann messaging me back but the text message was from Valerie. It said, 'What happened last night? Are you okay?'. I completely forgot about responding to her last night. I felt horrible for keeping her out of the loop when I had promised to message her back.

'I'm sorry I never texted you back. A lot of things went down. Do you think I could come to your place tonight', I texted her. I went into my bedroom to grab a bunch of belongings. I put on my blue hoodie, a black t-shirt and dark blue jeans to match. I didn't even bother looking at my reflection because I knew that I looked horrible.

My phone pinged. 'You can come over. My mom and dad are looking forward to meeting you. I'm almost at your house. See you in ten minutes', Valerie wrote in her message. Thank god, I didn't have to spend the night looking for someplace to stay.

I was in a hurry to leave this house and I wasn't sure how long I would be gone. I found my old raggedy suitcase and I stuffed it to the brim with everything I could find. I made sure to leave all the underwear behind; I would buy new ones.

After I finished, I checked the top of the dresser one more time for anything important. All that lay atop my dresser were, a few pairs of ugly necklaces from Aunt Tabby, and the handcrafted jewelry box that my mom gave me. I couldn't leave the last piece of my mom's memory behind for that bastard to touch.

I grabbed the jewelry box; it felt weird to hold the piece of old woody material that held my mom's jewelry inside of it. It brought back the memory of my mom telling me, 'Don't touch it though, not until you're older and you're ready',. I made a note in my brain to return to the jewelry box later tonight to check it for answers.

As I descended the stairs, I attempted to walk past a very drunk Aunt Tabby. Unfortunately for me, Aunt Tabby teetered around in the living room, swaying back and forth rather violently.

I thought about what Ann might tell me to do in that moment to give herself strength but nothing came to mind. Also speaking of Ann, I had yet to hear back from her. She usually answered right away but ai guess I picked a bad day.

"Where do you think you are going", Aunt Tabby screamed from behind me. I nearly dropped my suitcase as I approached the entryway. I didn't respond to her aggressive tone but kept on walking to the front door. "Where are you going you little bitch", Aunt Tabby stated much closer now. She reached out as she slapped me hard across my scarred skin. She dug her other hand into the wrist that held the suitcase tightly. For someone who drank a lot of alcohol, she sure was strong.

"Let go of my hand", I said in a deafening tone. She didn't budge, but dug her finger deeper into my flesh, and drew a spot of blood from my pale skin. "How could you hurt me? How could you love my parents so much, and treat me so horribly", I yelled as I ripped my hand from her grasp. I yanked the front door open to leave her behind. I was not expecting to see a towering frame in front of me. Nixon was there with a veiled expression on his face. I felt my cheeks burning in shame at my Aunt Tabby's drunkeness.

"Rowen, I didn't mean to", Aunt Tabby said as she collapsed in a heap of tears on the floor. "I promise I won't hurt you again. Don't leave me. I promise I'll do better", she begged nervously as her voice started to strain. I knew that I had to be strong and so I turned away from her.

"I'm sorry Aunt Tabby. I need a day or two", I said softly to her. I stepped outside the door, into the safety of Nixon's tall frame, and felt safe. I was going to get out of this hell.

"You bitch, you bitch, you bitch. You're dead, you hear me. Come back here and you're dead", she screamed. Nixon slammed the door shut and I was thankful for it.

I sagged against his arms for a brief moment to feel comforted by his taut frame. I wondered if I would be able to come back home safely to get my paintings or see my Aunt Tabby ever again. As Nixon held me in his arms, somewhere nearby the sound of a camera clicked.

The person in the vehicle muttered horrible phrases as they plotted their next move. They tossed the camera in the passenger seat angrily. No one could have what was his from long ago. He stroked the doll in his hand giggling maniacally. He sniffed the doll in the yellow dress affectionately. He would be back and this time he would make sure she didn't survive. She didn't see him, she never saw him, but he would make sure she saw him this time.