Chapter Text
The house looked exactly the same as it did when she left three years ago. Seeing it in person after so long brought about a sense of comfort and peace. Home was always her sacred and protected spot, away from the horrors she’d have to face with her job. Where she could relax and mentally process whichever tragedy the higherups bestowed on their team.
Samantha thought back to how life used to be then, feeling as though it’s been more than three measly years. So much happened that it aged her soul more than the body, leaving an empty shell of the woman she used to be. She recalled the nights hosting dinner for the group, their excited chatter and banter filling its walls. A noise she’ll never be able to experience again.
She hadn’t meant to sit frozen still in her vehicle for so long, the idea of simply walking up those front steps seemed too difficult a task at that moment. If it weren’t for the buzz of an incoming text message, she would have spent the entire evening staring at her home. Snapping out of her daze, she grabbed her phone from its place in the cupholder.
The text came from the tenant, asking when she would be arriving. They were a charming character, a young student finishing the last few years of their customer service degree. Past Samantha had taken pity on them, offering an insanely cheap monthly rent in exchange for a long term stay. The broke college student immediately signed the agreement, as it was a deal sent from heaven.
Samantha hadn’t rented her house out for money anyways, moreso to ensure someone would watch over it while she was gone for so long. Coming home to squatters was not something she ever wanted to experience, especially with how idiotic ‘squatters rights’ were in this country. Arranging a tenant was a far smaller headache, and came with some extra cash on the side, not like she needed it.
Tucking her phone into her pocket, she finally exited her vehicle. The walk up to the front door wasn’t as tough as her mind made it out to be, soon finding herself reaching up to knock. After a few hard knocks, the door opens to reveal an unfamiliar face.
A man who looked to be in his late 50s was certainly not the young face she had been expecting. His widespread grin was unnerving, reminding her of the sick men she’s had to endure in the past. “Hello my dear! You must be the landlord my darling has spoken so highly of!” Ah so that explains it. “The names’ Keith! Pleased to meet you.”
Samantha wasn’t one to judge another's choice in spouse, but something felt weird about a 20-something year old dating a considerably older man. “Samantha, nice to meet you as well.” A lie, spoken with fake sincerity. She didn’t know this man afterall, and here he stood in her home like he owned the place. Just as she was about to ask where the tenant was, they appeared beside Keith at the doorway.
Their appearance had changed drastically since the last time they spoke face to face. The tenant used to look like such a sweet young student, one who clearly took their studies seriously. Now they looked like someone who would smoke a cig butt they found on the ground. Their eyes were sunken in, dark eyebags accentuating them even further. Skin pale as if they hadn’t stepped outside the house in months, making the bruising along their neck all the more obvious. Samantha tried to keep her eyes up, smiling politely despite feeling incredibly uncomfortable.
“Sam! So good to see you again!” Their grin matched Keith’s to an eerie degree. Samantha stood a little straighter, focusing more on the conversation rather than the thoughts raging through her mind. “Sorry to hear what happened, but your retirement came at the perfect time!” The tenant whose name escapes her at this moment links one arm with Keith's before snuggling into his side. “We’re off to celebrate our engagement in Ibiza!” The smile on their lips didn’t match the glint in their eyes.
“Congratulations!” Samantha tried to sound not as surprised as she felt. Her eyes drifted down, taking note of the suitcase in their hand. “Heading off to the airport already?” The tenant and Keith both nodded before stepping out of the house. “Well I wish you two a lovely marriage.” The duo made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. The sooner they left, the quicker she could clean up and sleep.
The tenant and Keith stepped out of the house, the later dropping the house keys into her palm. “Don't need these anyone,” The words themself were innocent enough, but something sounded off with how he spoke. “Have fun in there~.” Now that had her eyebrows scrunching together.
“Thank you?” Samantha stood on the porch as she watched the two head off for their new life together, loading up into a waiting taxi without sparing a look behind them once. They chattered excitedly about their trip, the tenant rolling down the window to give Samantha a quick wave before the taxi pulled off.
Thankful the two kept the exchange so simple and curt, Samantha turned around to face the front door. It was worn down after many years. She hadn’t expected the tenant to polish her doors annually like she used to, so that was the first task she noted mentally. Taking a moment to reminisce, she placed a hand on the front door gently. It’s cold to the touch, the sensation grounding her in the moment, as if reminding her that she’s made it home alive again.
Summoning up her spirits, she turned the knob and pushed inside. She hadn’t even crossed the threshold of the door frame before going still. Even though her body ached with fatigue, it was like all other sensations were replaced with anger at the sight of the interior's condition.
Muddy footprints covered the floors leading everywhere, and dirty clothing was tossed askew throughout the living room without care, and that was just what she saw upon entering. “Fucking hell,” Samanatha grumbled, the tireness of her body vanishing as rage filled her.
Perhaps slamming the front door a little too hard, she began to storm throughout the house. Everywhere she looked something was either damaged, dirty, or knocked out of place. The curtains in the living room were torn up from the bottom up, so that the damage wouldn’t be noticeable from the outside. The fireplace logs were completely turned to ash, which spread out and spilled onto the hardwood floors like sand. Empty beer and liquor bottles of all kinds littered the table tops, filling the house with a yeasty stench.
Samantha brought a hand up to her mouth and nose, covering both as a look of disgust crossed her face, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” She cussed under her breath, turning and stomping into the kitchen. Her heart shattering when she saw the way her old collection of records were tossed half-hazardly to the side, a couple of them even snapped in half. Many were covered in scratches, deep enough they no doubt messed up the records' ability to spin.
The record player was a gift from her mother after purchasing the home years ago. A house warming present that got frequent use whenever Samantha would be home in between working cases. And here was her cherished record player, neglected and covered in a thick layer of dust. Part of Samantha's mind considered getting into her truck and chasing down the tenant and Keith in their taxi.
The condition of her home only got worse the more she looked around. Glasses were chipped, a broken China plate tossed into the sink like trash. Leftover containers piled up in the trash can, spilling out of several large industrial trash bags that were left open and piled up against walls. The smell of rotting food in the summer heat wasn’t nearly as bad as what she’s experienced in the past, but it was still bad nonetheless.
Samantha didn’t dare to open the fridge, deciding to check its contents later with a mask on instead. Upstairs didn’t look any better either, the first thing she noticed upon climbing the stairs weren’t the many fist sized holes in the walls, but the attic door.
It hung pathetically from its broken hinges, the wood where it used to be bolted to the doorframe splintered and cracked. Clearly someone had repeatedly slammed the door until its top hinge snapped. “God dammit.” Samantha breathed out the air she had been holding. The smell at least wasn’t too bad upstairs. Yet the damage to the property seemed more severe.
The more she looked around, the more her chest burned with anger. How dare they leave her house in such disarray while leaving with a smile and wave. Shelves in the gym were hanging from the wall, equipment tossed around making it so that Samantha had to watch where she stepped, so long as she didn’t want to faceplant into the floor.
Again the curtains were torn, the rod holding them up loose from its position in the drywall. Except this time the window accompanying them had a large crack in the centre from what looked to be a ball. The cost of fixing the damages began to add up in Samantha’s mind, and while money wasn’t an issue, it was the fact that she would even need to spend that much just to restore the house to livable conditions.
The bathroom wasn’t too bad, but there were several broken light bulbs still screwed into the fixture above the mirror. Again, dirty clothing tossed around everywhere. Samantha braced herself as she cautiously lifted the toilet seat, relieved to find no human waste waiting for her inside, nothing– except for a rubber duck. A weird and very deliberate choice that confused her more than anything.
Upon entering the bedroom, more empty bottles were found on the bedside table and dresser, but it was the way the bed dipped to one side that was more of a concern. Crouching down, Samantha used her phone flashlight to shine under the bed, letting out an angry yell at the sight of the supports under the mattress.
Clearly Keith and the tenant enjoyed a rather vigorous night together, as the beams supporting the mattress were snapped, beyond salvaging. The entire bottom side of the bed would need to be replaced with new beams before any sleeping would occur. Though the broken wood became less of a concern as soon as she spotted the suspicious white stains covering the sheets.
That was the straw that broke the camel's back. Phone in hand, Samantha stormed back outside, locking the doors behind herself while dialing the number the tenant had given her years ago. It rang before reaching a voicemail, telling them to leave a message at the beep. Samantha wasn’t usually one for cursing, but the audacity of the tenant to not even give a heads up about the situation had her fuming.
After leaving a voicemail that would have a sailor blushing, Samantha started up her truck and headed off for the nearest department store. A fire started to simmer inside her as one thought rang through her mind.
How dare they treat her home like this.