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Addicted
“All these pictures…they have faces cut out of them!”
Wendie’s mom used to be one of the best in the world. She’d take us to our soccer games the movies, cook for us, and even do our laundry. Then she met Richard; that’s when everything changed. She would get home late, the house started to get filthy and her whole attitude changed. She was like a whole different person with a totally different personality, never offering to takes us anywhere and never there for us.
This went on for months. One day Wendie’s mom didn’t come home at all. Days went by without a phone call. We began to worry. So Wendie and I went to the nearest police station to see if they had heard anything about her mom. At the police station the officer said “I’m sorry girls but we haven’t had any news on your mom but we will do everything we can to find her.”
We went back to Wendie’s house to see if we could find any evidence or clues on her mom’s whereabouts, we noticed all the picture frames were missing pictures. On the refrigerator we saw a phone number for Richard. We called him to see when he had last seen Wendie’s mom. He said he hadn’t seen her for awhile. We didn’t buy it. Wendie and I googled his number and we found his address. She told me to write it down .She wanted to go to his house and see if her mom was there.
Richard lived across town in a two story ranch style home and it had a weird vibe about it. We walked up the stairs and rang the doorbell, but there was no answer. Wendie knocked on the door and as she did it slowly crept open. “Hello,” she said in a worried voice “is anyone in here?” There was no response. I encouraged Wendie to get the hell out there but she insisted that she wouldn’t leave until she knew if her mom was in there. So we walked into Richards’s house.
There we were, scared out of our minds, tensely searching through this enormous house for Wendie’s mom. As we looked around we noticed something unusual about the pictures in the house. “All these pictures,” Wendie exclaimed “they have the faces cut out of them!”“Wendie,” I said slowly “these are the pictures from your house”“Help!” we heard from upstairs it sounded like Wendie’s mom so we ran upstairs. “Help!” it was coming from the master bedroom. We ran in and Wendie’s mom was tied up on a chair, there was needles lying all over the place, and she looked pretty out of it.
“Girls,” she said “I’m so happy to see you. Richard tied me up and drugged me up”
We began to untie her, then the door slammed shut and Richard was standing there with a knife. Wendies mom got up and began to slowly walk toward us, she and Richard were cornering us. “Mom! What are you doing!” Wendie yelled “Now girls, don’t you know to never trust a drugie?”
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