Chapter One
Melissa
My feet are throbbing. I have no idea how far I’ve walked, but I know I have at least five miles to go. A bus stop with a bench waits on the next corner. I’ll allow myself a little break, but it can’t be too long if I’m going to make it to the bank before it closes.
An elderly lady sits on the bus stop bench, and I can only imagine what she must think of me when I approach. I’m skinny, dirty, and dressed in a plain gray dress. Battered slippers encase my feet, torn on one corner where my toe keeps poking through. Anyone else would see a junkie, a homeless person, or assume I’m a thief, but she speaks to me as if I’m nothing out of the ordinary.
Her pale blue eyes light up as she addresses me. “Hello, dear. Are you waiting on the number twelve bus? Because I’m afraid it just passed.”
Sitting beside her, I shake my head. “No, I’m not catching the bus. I just need to rest a moment.”
“Well, I’m happy for the company. It’s such a beautiful day.”
For the first time today, I look around me and realize she’s right. The sun is shining, and a light breeze tickles my neck.
And I’m free.
Homeless with only the clothes on my body, but free. I’m not technically broke, since I have money in the bank. I know the next few days will be especially difficult, but it’s at that moment I realize the enormity of what I’ve done, and a smile forms on my face.
“That’s better. You have a lovely smile,” she says.
A bus pulls up to the stop, but she remains seated with me as passengers climb on and off. A couple of minutes later, we’re alone again. “Is your bus the next one?” I ask, breaking the silence.
“Oh no. I’m not going anywhere. I live right over there.” She points out a small, blue house across the street. “When I get a bit lonely, I like to come here and talk to people. You meet such interesting people waiting for a bus.”
After chatting with her for a few minutes, I find out she has two daughters and a son who rarely visit her, and her friends can’t get around like they used to, so she spends days at a time completely alone.
“I have a car, but my eyes aren’t what they used to be, so I only drive once a week to the grocery store and pharmacy. I really should go today, I suppose. The traffic seems a bit heavy, though.”
An idea strikes me. “I know you don’t know me, but I’m headed to the First Bank, right across from the grocery store. I could drive you there and back in your car if you’d like, and it would save me the walk as well.”
She gapes at me. “You were going to walk all that way? Oh honey, no. I’d love a ride so let’s help each other. That’s what life is about you know. People go on and on about the meaning of life, but as far as I’m concerned, we’re here to help one another through.”
She’s such a sweet person. “My name is Melissa,” I tell her. “But everyone calls me Mel.”
“I’m Agnes. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mel.”
We walk across the street where she retrieves her keys and a handbag. For the first time in four years, I get behind the wheel, and her small sedan starts right up. Agnes sits back, seemingly unconcerned about a perfect stranger driving her around.
I head to the bank first, and Agnes accompanies me inside. I can’t help but smile when she grabs a lollipop from the counter and takes a seat in the waiting area.
We are the only customers, so I make my way to the nearest teller. Her lips purse a little as her gaze sweeps over me, but her voice is pleasant when she asks, “May I help you?”
“Yes, my debit card has been damaged, and I need to replace it.” The card and my license were caked in dirt, and too water damaged to be of any use. I’ve cleaned them up as much as possible, but the teller still gives me a strange look when I slide them across the counter.
“Do you know your account number?” she asks.
After I rattle it off—good thing I still have it memorized—she types on her computer and her eyes widen. “If you’ll pardon me for just a moment,” she says, and rushes off.
I know what she has seen, and I expected this reaction. There’s quite a bit of money in this account, and it doesn’t jibe with my appearance.
A balding, middle-aged man gestures for me to follow him back to an office. Butterflies erupt in my stomach. What if I can’t prove my identity? I don’t have my birth certificate or a social security card. And I need some money.
“Ms. Sanders,” he addresses me. “Please have a seat. We just need to verify a few things before we print a new card. It appears this account has been dormant for nearly four years.”
Taking a seat, I reply, “Yes, I’ve been…away.”
Realizing that’s the only explanation I plan to offer, he nods. “I see. Let’s go through a few of your security questions.”
He asks me four questions which I have no trouble answering, then takes down my social security number. Finally, he asks, “Since the account has been dormant for an extended period and has a substantial balance, we need to verify one more thing. Would you mind providing your fingerprint, as you did when you opened the account?”
“Whatever speeds this up. My friend is waiting in the lobby.”
I provide a fingerprint, and finally, he hands me a new debit card. “I’d also like to withdraw five hundred dollars.”
I’m led around to the front counter where the teller fulfills my request, and I breathe a sigh of relief. I have access to my money again. I’m luckier than the rest of them, even if they do manage to escape.
“I’m sorry that took so long,” I apologize to Agnes as we leave.
She flaps her hand at me. “Don’t worry about it. I have all day and nothing to do with it.”
My own situation pales as I consider Agnes’s statement. It royally pisses me off. She has family, but they ignore her. I have no idea where I’m staying tonight or where I’ll be tomorrow, but I ask, “Would you let me take you out for lunch tomorrow? As a thank you for today?”
“I’d love that! Would you mind if we went to the supercenter and the grocery store? The supercenter won’t take my coupons.”
“Sure, no problem.” She beams and sits back in her seat as we head to the supercenter that has her pharmacy located inside.
I hand her the keys and arrange to meet her back at the car as we go inside. “I’m going to grab a few things.”
“Sure, dear. No hurry. The pharmacy always takes forever.”
Grabbing a cart, I quickly make my way to the clothing and throw in a couple pairs of jeans, sweatpants, and tee shirts. They are followed by a cheap pack of underwear and socks. I’ll wait on the bras since cheap ones are terrible and I don’t have much to worry about in that area anyway. Instead, I head down the toiletries aisle where I grab the basics, along with a hairbrush and electric straightener.
There’s a large bin of flip flops so I pick up a pair of them as well. They’ll work until I can get some real shoes. When I think of the racks of shoes I left behind. Ugh.
By the time I get through the line at the front of the store, Agnes joins me. She wasn’t kidding about the pharmacy taking forever.
I pile my purchases into her back seat, and we head to the grocery store. I’m concerned she may be getting tired because of her age and all, but she sure doesn’t look it. “Do you need a break before we go to the grocery store?” I ask.
“Not at all. Don’t let these wrinkles fool you. I’m spry as a spring goose!”
Laughter bursts out of me and it’s the first time I’ve laughed in so long. “You are my new favorite person,” I tell her.
We each grab a cart once we get to the grocery store, but I only get a few things. I’m going to find a hotel for the night and my plan is to order pizza, so I just grab a few snacks and a package of bagels for breakfast.
By the time we return to Agnes’s house and I help her get her groceries put away, it’s nearly dark. “You’re welcome to stay the night, dear,” she offers, but I don’t want to take advantage of her hospitality.
“Thank you, but I have a place to go. I really appreciate the help today. You made a very difficult time so much easier.”
Smiling, she pats me on the arm. “I enjoyed myself.”
“Lunch tomorrow at noon?”
Her face lights up. “I’ll be ready.”
My cab honks the horn out front, and I gather up all my bags. “See you tomorrow. Don’t forget to lock the door behind me.”
“You sound just like my son,” she snickers, but I hear the lock click behind me after the door shuts.
The cab driver doesn’t look twice at my dirty appearance. I assume he’s seen it all at this point. I was able to call ahead and reserve a room at a nice hotel for the week, until I find a more permanent residence.
The lady who checks me in sneers at me and my numerous plastic bags from the supercenter, but doesn’t comment as she hands me my key. An hour later, I’m showered, shaved, lotioned, and lounging in a fluffy bed, gorging on pizza and soda. How the hell did I live four years without sugar and caffeine?
My spirits plummet when the movie I was watching ends and the nightly news comes on. They’re talking about the shooting. Of course they are. It’s only been a week since The First Men killed all those innocent people. Tears pour down my face, and I pull the covers up to my chin.
I’m safe, I remind myself. They’re dead and the rest are an unorganized mess. They won’t come after me. I’m safe.
#
My first stop the next morning is a shoe store, then an electronics store across the street, where I get a new cell phone. After that, I have the cab take me to a nearby car dealership. Now that I’m cleaned up and dressed in actual clothes instead of a gray rag, I’m not getting the disgusted stares any longer.
The car salesman is more than happy to help me find a suitable vehicle once he realizes I won’t need financing. I test drive a few models before settling on a small SUV. Not too large to make parking a hassle, but with enough space to haul canvases and supplies, assuming I ever get back to that part of my life.
By the time all the paperwork is filled out and I drive my new car off the lot, it’s time to get Agnes for lunch.
I don’t get a chance to knock before she flings open the door, a bright smile on her face. “Well, you look lovely today,” she exclaims.
“So do you. I love your shirt. Yellow is my favorite color.”
“Mine too. It’s so happy.”
Happiness is exactly what I need in my life right now. “Do you know a good place for lunch?” I ask.
“There’s a little diner down the road that makes the best patty melt.”
“Sounds good to me.”
Agnes beams at me when I open her door. “Is this your car?”
“It is. I just bought it today. What do you think?”
“I love it. I don’t think I could drive one like this. The dash looks like the controls of an airplane or something.”
Laughing, we make our way to the little diner. Agnes is right. The place has an amazing patty melt. While we’re eating and chatting, I peruse a housing app for local real estate.
“Are you looking to rent or buy?” Agnes asks, sipping on her milkshake. For a little old lady, she can put away the food.
“Rent, for now. I’m not very familiar with Dashton, so I’d like to make sure I want to stay in the area.”
Agnes taps her lip. “Amos, down at the senior center is trying to rent out a house, last I heard. It’s right on the lake, though. I know some people don’t like having to deal with the mosquitoes.”
A lake house? Is she kidding?
“Is the lake far from here?”
Her eyebrows jump up. “You really don’t know the area. No, it’s not far. About eight miles south. I can call Amos if you’d like.”
“That would be great.” I put my phone down. “There’s not much in here.”
Agnes pulls out a flip phone and excuses herself, stepping outside. By the time I’ve paid our check and headed out to join her, she flips the phone closed. “Amos said he can meet us there in a few minutes, or I can give him your number if today isn’t convenient.”
“Let’s do it.”
Agnes smiles and gets in the car, carefully typing out a text message to tell Amos we’re on our way. He sends her back the address, and I put it in my navigator. A few minutes later we pull up in front of a beautiful two-story house on the lake.
Amos isn’t here yet, so we hop out and take a walk around the property. The second I step around the rear of the house, I know I want it. The lake stretches as far as I can see in any direction. Gorgeous, calm blue water gently laps at the dock, which is located only a few steps down from the back deck.
We climb up to the deck and I can just picture myself out here, soaking in the sun, maybe even painting on cool days. Just standing here, I can feel the stress melting off of me.
“What do you think?” an unfamiliar voice asks, making Agnes and I both jump.
“Jumpin’ Jesus Amos, you scared the crackers out of me!” Agnes exclaims.
“It’s beautiful. So peaceful,” I breathe.
Amos, who stands about five feet tall and wears a battered fedora, grins at me. “Once you get used to the mosquitoes and summer people. Of course, I loved it here when I was young. It just ain’t the same anymore.” He gestures to the house on the left. “That one is empty. Some rich family used to use it as a summer home, but they haven’t been there in years.”
He points to the house on the right, which is farther away. “Whoever owns that one rents it out during the summers. It stays empty the rest of the year. Let’s go inside.”
We follow Amos inside. The place definitely needs some work, but all I can see are the possibilities. It’s an open floor plan with plenty of light from large windows overlooking the lake. The living room carpet needs to be replaced, but the tile in the kitchen looks good. Agnes and Amos chat while I check out the rest of the house. Three bedrooms is more than I need, but one could easily be converted to an art studio. The one downstairs with a view of the lake would work perfectly.
I think I’m in love.
Amos grins at me when I return. “All the furniture is included. Aggy says you’re looking to rent. I was hoping to sell, but I can let you rent for a year if you’d like.”
I shake my head. “I’ve changed my mind. I’m interested in buying. Did you have a price in mind?”
When he replies, I can’t believe what he’s asking. I’d have paid twice that.
“It’s what I paid for it, plus the money I’ve put into it over the years.”
I walk over to Amos and shake his hand. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”
#
The past two weeks have flown by. My days have been filled with shopping, which isn’t my favorite thing in the world, but when you’re starting over with nothing, it’s a necessity. The rest of my time has been dedicated to cleaning out my new home.
It’s not nasty, but years of sitting vacant and neglected have taken their toll. I’ve had workmen in to check the big stuff, and fortunately the foundation, furnace, central air, wiring, and plumbing are in good shape. Although the roof will need some work before the snow hits, the repairs needed are mostly cosmetic.
For the first time in so long, my artistic side is awakened.
I’m painting my studio walls a calming, pastel green when I hear a loud motor and peek through my curtains. A moving truck pulls in, and two large men carry furniture into the house next door.
Didn’t Amos say some rich family owned it? They must’ve decided to stay for a while, because there’s only about six weeks of summer left, and they’re moving in a whole house worth of stuff.
It doesn’t take me long to grow bored watching the movers, so I get back to my work. After I get ready for bed, I can’t resist a quick peek at the house next door, but it’s dark. Maybe the family will show up tomorrow.
After two weeks of solitude—other than a few dinners with Agnes—I wouldn’t mind meeting some new people.
As I do most nights, I fall into bed and crash from exhaustion almost instantly.
The nightmare begins as it usually does.
I’m running through the blackness, trying to make it to the tree line before I’m spotted. The battered slippers on my feet are no protection from the sharp rocks and twigs, but I ignore the pain in my feet because I’m almost there.
It’s hard to find the path at night, but I’ve walked it a thousand times during the day, so as soon as I step onto it, I know where I am. My buried treasure is only a few feet away. Soft, muddy ground gives way under my fingers as I dig like an animal until I feel cloth and yank it from the earth.
Unwrapping my prize, I get a quick glance at what four years underground has done to my bank card and driver’s license. No matter. It may not seem like much of a treasure to others, but the two plastic cards in my hand are my lifeline to the outside world I was kept away from.
It isn’t until I shove them in my pocket that the real nightmare begins. His laugh fills the air around me, echoing through the trees, and I jump to my feet, goosebumps lining my skin. I can’t tell where the sound is coming from.
“Lissa. You can’t leave, Lissa. No one leaves.”
Panicked, I run down the path, toward the one lane road that leads to the highway. I’m almost there—close enough to see the full moon glinting off the pavement—when I’m jerked to the ground.
He towers over me, made ten feet tall by my twisted, nocturnal imagination. His voice exudes cruelty and power as he repeats the words that haunt me every day.
“You can’t leave, Lissa. No one leaves. This is your True Life. Everything else is only existence.”
As usual, I sit up in bed, breathing hard, my hand clamped into a fist as if I’m still trying to hold tight to my treasure. Once the terror passes, I flop back on my pillow, frustrated and disappointed in myself.
He’s dead. He’s been dead for weeks.
I’m no longer a captive of True Life, so why can’t I leave them behind?
My sister’s image flashes in my brain, reminding me of the horrible truth. I left her there. She’s still under their control. Maybe my brain insists on making me relive my escape every night because of my selfishness.
To show me I’ll never really be free.
I must fall back to sleep because the next time I open my eyes, sunlight floods my bedroom. Things have a way of looking better in the morning, so I try to shake off the nightmare and get on with my day.
I spend my morning in my studio, putting the final coat on the walls. I decide to have my lunch on the back deck and soak in some sun before getting back to work. There hasn’t been a peep from next door, so I’m surprised to see a man sitting on the dock. Amos explained that I share it with the neighbor.
I can’t tell much about him from this distance, but he’s definitely in shape, lean and muscled. He isn’t fishing or swimming, just sitting on the dock with his feet in the water. I feel like a stalker watching him, but there’s something about him that I can’t put my finger on. He doesn’t swing his legs or splash his feet in the water at all. He’s not looking around or taking in his surroundings. He just sits perfectly still, gazing into the lake.
It’s possible he feels my creepy stare, because when he does look up, his eyes are pointed straight at me. Great. He’s going to think I was spying on him. Forcing a smile that he’s probably too far away to see, I wave at him.
Jumping to his feet, he stalks across the dock as if it’s personally offended him and jogs up his steps. The closer he gets, the more I can’t take my eyes off of him. His body is amazing and that intense look on his face awakens something in me. He spares me only a glance, and his jaw tightens before he disappears into his house.
Damn. He acts like I pissed in his Spaghetti O’s or something. Sighing, I finish off my sandwich. I shouldn’t be surprised I’m attracted to him. Assholes seem to be my type. It’s how I got myself into trouble in the first place. Yeah, I’ll be avoiding this one.
Loneliness suddenly settles over me. I realize I’ve only been here a couple of weeks, but I’m also used to being surrounded by people twenty-four hours a day. It used to drive me crazy, but to go to the opposite situation, plunged into solitude, isn’t easy either. I’ve spent so long learning not to feel, blocking out anything that even resembles an emotion, that I feel overwhelmed by them at least once a day.
Instead of distracting myself today, I let the sadness wash over me. It triggers an urge I haven’t had in too long. A desire to paint, to create, to let it pour out onto canvas. I don’t have the supplies for that, though, so I lean a large piece of wood against the side of the house. It’s about five feet tall and three feet wide. I have no idea what it was intended for, but when I found it in the shed, I figured I could put it to some use.
Grabbing the buckets of green and brown house paint I’ve purchased, I fall into the zone and get to work. Time stops moving, or maybe it speeds up. I can’t tell, because it always seems like I’m outside of everything, disconnected from the universe when this feeling takes hold. There’s no future to worry about or past to mourn. Just me and the present moment, where everything is exactly as it should be.
By the time I’m finished, my back and arm muscles ache, and I’m splashed with paint. I could probably run into the woods and be perfectly camouflaged. Feeling lighter than I have in weeks, I set the painting in the shed and head inside to shower. Tomorrow, I’ll make a trip for art supplies.
Exhausted, I fall into bed. I have workmen coming tomorrow to tear out the carpet and restore the hardwood underneath in the living room and bedrooms. I also need to have a yard sale to rid myself of some of the furniture and odds and ends Amos’s family left behind since he doesn’t want any of it.
#
The last few weeks have kept me busy, but it’s been worth it. The house looks better than ever, though I still have a lot of work to do. After double checking with Amos that he doesn’t want anything from the house, I’ve arranged a yard sale, and hired a young man from down the road to help me. Walsh is seventeen and trying to earn some pocket money, so I promise him a hundred dollars for helping me out, plus twenty-five percent of the money I make today. He’s thrilled with the opportunity, since he can also sell some of his own stuff.
The sun is barely up when we carry the furniture out onto the lawn. There were also boxes of clothing, knickknacks, and household items stored in the attic that are now displayed on folding tables across my yard. I’ve arranged for a charity shop to pick up whatever is left over from the sale tomorrow morning.
Amos drops off Agnes so she can hang out with me today and help keep an eye on things. Agnes walks up carrying a huge box of donuts. “I brought breakfast!”
Taking the donut she offers me, I grin at her. “You and Amos sure spend a lot of time together now.”
She flaps her hand at me. “That old man is crazy.”
“About you, it seems. Are you seeing him?”
Agnes takes a seat on the picnic table. “Nah, we’re just sleeping together. Now, how can I help?”
Walsh chokes on his donut, and I laugh as he tries to hide his reaction with a quick drink of water. Agnes may appear all sweet and innocent, but she’s nothing of the sort.
“Everything is set up. We’re just waiting on customers. I ran an ad in the paper and put up signs.”
It doesn’t take long for people to start showing up. Agnes sits at a table and collects the money while Walsh and I help people load up their purchases. The furniture is in good shape so most of it sells quickly.
The day has gone smoothly and we’re just about to wrap things up when the neighbor’s door flies open. The man I saw on the dock stumbles out, and my breath catches. He’s changed over the past few weeks and not for the better. His hair is overgrown and messy, and he apparently hasn’t shaved in weeks. He’s thinner, and his face has a gray hue.
Making his way down the steps and across the yard, he slurs, “What the hell is all this noise? I’m trying to sleep. I didn’t move here for more bullshit racket.”
I assume the noise he’s referring to was from the two men who have just left. The smell of liquor reaches me before he does.
“If you’re referring to the hammering, they’re done. Two guys just had to disassemble some furniture, so it’d fit in their truck,” I tell him.
He looks around. “What are you, hard up for money? You got to bring all these people onto my property to sell shit?”
My face heats with anger as he pulls a wad of bills from his pocket and throws them at my feet. “There, you need money, you got it. Now, shut this shit down.”
Glaring at him, I straighten my spine. “This isn’t your fucking property. It’s mine. So you can get your drunk ass off of it!” I demand.
His feet tangle, and he almost goes down. His eyes scan me up and down, and a small smile lifts his lips. “Tough talk from a tiny little thing. Cute, though. Maybe you can make it up to me.”
I never thought I could look at a man as handsome as this one and feel revolted, but that’s exactly what I feel. Taking a step back, I warn him, “Stay away from me.”
His face drops into a sneer. “Wouldn’t fuck a sniveling little brat like you anyway.” Spinning around, he sways and stumbles his way back inside his house.
“Well, that was exciting,” Agnes remarks.
Walsh shakes his head. “My dad is home if you want me to get him, Melissa. Or maybe you should call the cops.”
The guy’s curtains jerk closed as I watch. “Nah, he’s just drunk. It’ll be okay. He’ll probably pass out.” The last thing I want to do is call the cops. Everything that happens gets listed in the local paper, and I don’t need my name in there because I filed a police report. I doubt anyone from True Life is actively searching for me, but there’s no reason to announce where I’m living.
The stack of bills starts to blow across the yard, so I scoop them up. Fifteen hundred dollars. He threw fifteen hundred dollars at my feet like it was nothing. “I’ll give it back to him when he’s sober.”
“You’re better than me,” Agnes says. “That drunk bastard would be buying my new living room suite.”
Long after we’ve cleaned up from the sale and I’ve taken Agnes home, I can’t stop thinking about the man next door. I don’t even know his damned name. It’s probably a good thing. He’s obviously an asshole, and possibly an alcoholic. No matter what, he’s bad for me right now. I have enough issues to deal with.
I’ll just do what I planned to all along.
Keep to myself.