The brown oak door stood in front of me. The memory of me last opening it seemed so distant, so much time had passed since I had last visited my house.
It was the largest house on my street, with it's white walls and palm trees, it could be seen from a distance. I opened the door anxiously and slowly stepped inside.
Everything was just as I had left it. Yet it all seemed so changed. The last few months of my life had been the worst, ranging from kidnappings to forced to attend balls. I would never forgive him.
I kept my bag on the floor and headed upstairs almost expecting Dad to welcome me home but I was wrong. The house had been locked for the past couple months and on the front door was a stack of parcels and the mailbox overflowing with mail.
The small backyard's grass had gone hay
