Bad Things Happen

When we broke into the house, it was the middle of the afternoon, so it felt like we weren't doing anything illegal. He had a stepladder leaned up against the side of his place, so it took nothing to get onto his little wooden balcony and through the sliding door.

All at once we'd done it. We were in hunky Jason Parvi's house. My heart was racing but we made an agreement beforehand that we would say nothing once we got in there, so I stayed quiet. The smell that hit us was overpowering. Like old gym socks and rotting milk. Garbage. Now that we were inside, we felt sick.

From Bad Things Happen by Kris Bertin 2016. Published by Biblioasis.