Nothing was sitting right with this, with any of this going on. I already had my suspicions once I heard the tools falling earlier, seeing the water dripping from the piping, and the lack of seeing Darren anywhere in the house. The longer I continued to explore the house, the more I began to believe that something else was happening within these broken walls.
Besides the attic, the only place left I had to check out was the other side of the basement, the darker, rustic-smelling half behind the brick wall. And the only way to get through was to go into the small hatch and vents inside the walls. What kind of family would need to travel through vents inside their own home? I kept thinking about how the realtor kept out such much information about the house. And I was starting to understand why–this entire house made no sense.
The flashlight on my phone was the only thing leading me through the dust-covered, cobweb-infested vents. I tried my best not to let the dust get into my mouth, but it seemed useless.
All I could think about was what awaited me on the other side of the basement.
There was just one long, silver tunnel that lead up. What kind of purpose could it have served?
Being on this side of the basement feels like an entirely different room. There must have been a good reason behind putting up a brick wall.
Thinking that this would give me the upper-hand in the situation, I decided to call Darren again. If he was nearby, his phone would give away his hiding spot. Again it took a moment for the connection to go through before the ringing started.
“This isn’t funny now, answer the fucking phone.”
It felt a bit weird being the only person in the entire house right now. Having gone from the second floor and now down into the basement, Darren was still nowhere in sight. He didn’t call out whenever I tried to find out where he was. Maybe the lunch theory was still sound?
Regardless, I had to check out the basement, just to cover my tracks and make sure he really wasn’t here anymore. Aside from looking for one of my guys, I ended up finding a few other things, both worrying and confusing. Every new discovery in the house added to the realization that we didn’t really know what kind of house we were flipping.
For a split second, I regretted buying this house, thinking that all of the work we put in turned out to be a giant waste of money. But we were determined on making this house from the ground up. We planned on making a living off of this house.
But first, I had to get through this disgusting smell of musky wood.
When I reached the center support beam I could feel the cold dampness radiating straight off of the wood. Water drops were tricking down the wood at a sluggish pace.
Christ, this isn’t a good sign.
It was a worrying sight, seeing part of a wall fall apart.
“Damn it,” I huffed under my breath. “Still nothing. Where the hell is this guy?”
From the quick walk-though, I was already mentally calculating all of the expenses and amount of time it would be before this house project would be complete. I could hear the floorboard squeaking beneath my boots with every step–this home improvement would be worth the wait.
When I got to the second floor, I noticed a hatch in the ceiling. Darren and I didn’t see it before, nor did the realtor mention it at all. What the hell was it doing here and what could possibly be up there?
And more importantly, who the hell was running around up there while this house was being worked on?
Part of me wondered if this was intentionally left out and hidden, possibly hiding some kind of secret.
I paused for a moment, waiting to hear something from Darren. His voice didn’t call out for a minute or so.
I called out again. No answer.
It’s only been about three weeks since we started remodeling the house, and I feel like we’ve made some good progress so far. At the rate we’ve been going, we could probably finish this ahead of our predicted complete date.
Today, Darren and I are on, both of us investing the most money behind this entire project. The entire house looks like it’s been bombed from the inside-out, but that just means we’ve been putting in all of the effort needed to get this project done.
When we first got there, I looked at the front door and saw a giant slash across of it. This must have been what Darren was talking about before.
Exposed support beams, wooden planks nailed around on almost every wall, and glass windows only being shards around the edge: the common sight of home flipping.
It started to make me think that there were probably a bunch of walls still intact that I could swing at for some fun.
I could hear footsteps coming from nearby. At first I assumed they were Darren’s boots, but I realized that they couldn’t have been.