Free Set Me Free by Melissa Pearl

"Spare key's still here."
    I dug it out and walked back to the door, passing it to Alex. He gave me a dry look before taking it off me. "Thanks."
    Zach nudged me with his shoulder, giving me a grin as Alex eased the door open and stepped inside. My smile fled the second I walked through the door. The musty smell hid none of my memories, they piled back on top of me like an avalanche.
    The orange tiles on the sunroom floor, the faded rug in the corner that Mom wanted to replace. I stepped into the living area feeling heavy, yet fragile. All the furniture was wrapped in plastic or covered with big sheets. The piano was draped in an old quilt, the one that used to hang on the wall in the spare room. I could see myself sitting on the stool and practicing my scales with an evil glare at the black and white keys. I always hated piano practice.
    "Should we give you a minute?" Alex asked quietly.
    "No, I want to get this done."
    "Well, let's go check upstairs first. See if we can find your Dad's lock box."
    I nodded, in favor of anything that would delay the trip to the kitchen. Grabbing the bannister I clung to it as we walked up the stairs. My feet were lead and my arms were cotton wool as we reached the top and turned left towards my parents' room. We found the lock box just where I remembered it. It was open.
    "We should take it, in case he left his finger prints on it or something."
    "He was wearing gloves." Black ones. Leather.
    I stepped out of the room and couldn't help walking to my old room. All my posters had been taken down, my drawers draped with a white sheet and my bed sitting naked in the corner. It wasn't my room anymore. Just a shell. A shell that my parents' friends would have spent hours crying in as they wondered what had possessed me to kill my own parents and disappear.
    My face bunched as I fought off the tears. I wondered what Maria thought, surely she didn't believe the lies. Had she looked for me? Tried to convince people that I was innocent?
    Covering my face, I pinched my forehead between my finger and thumb, not wanting to dissolve into tears. I'd done enough crying in the last 48 hours to last me the rest of my life.
    "Was this your room?"
    I turned to Zach, wrapping my arms around myself with a shaky nod. "It doesn't feel like it anymore though."
    "I understand." He went to reach for me, but I backed away. If he touched me now I'd give into my tears and then I'd never stop crying. "Let's get this over with."
    "The others are already down in the kitchen." Zach's brown eyes were filling with anguish. I shook my head and walked past him, pulling myself together as I descended the stairs.
    Walking through the dining room, I came to a stop at the basement door. I couldn't help myself. I pulled it open and stepped behind it, crouching down and peering through the crack. I saw Alex standing in the middle of the kitchen, his hands on his hips, turning a slow circle as he soaked it all in. His body morphed to that of my dad. His intense blue eyes always caught everything. I could never lie to him, never hide my disappointment or joy. He knew everything about me. And now he was gone.
    My lips scrunched into a wobbly line as Alex then morphed into William Tenner. The man who destroyed me. He stood over my dead parents with a sadistic grin that morphed to annoyance. His huffing irritation that my dad had died, the way he'd kicked Dad's limp body and then shouted my name. Lucy! You can't hide from me! It burnt my brain, making me want to shatter.
    "Lucy? Are you okay?"
    I jerked at Zach's soft words, but pushed the door open, stepping back out into the hallway. He was pale with worry. I tried to ease his nerves by giving him a smiling nod, but it was probably more like a grimacing head jerk.
    Wise enough to stay silent, he just reached for my hand and gently tugged me into the kitchen.
    "Anything?" he asked the others. Elliot was on his hands and knees, checking under cupboards for marks or dents.
    Alex was standing