《The Incident on Melancholy Lane》


 Prologue

    "My baby girl! I''m so sorry, please, you can''t die!" I hear my mother scream through hysterical sobs.


    An EMT unloads the gurney I''m lying on from the back of the ambulance and says, "ma''am, you have to step back!" He barks a few orders at some other EMTs, and they begin to wheel the gurney across concrete and over the threshold of two, open automatic doors.


    The temperature increases as I''m brought inside from the winds of an unforgivingly cold night. Passing bright lights above rhythmically blind me and send pains shooting straight into my already fiercely aching head. I can feel my eyes trying to roll back as one of the EMT''s shouts at me to keep them open. A few seconds later, the atmosphere changes again, and I can feel that I''m finally brought to a halt. A man in white swiftly approaches me with a group outfitted in blue scrubs. They hover over me and devolve into unrecognizable, smeared blobs as I lose the fight to keep my eyes open. I can hear a panic break out and my eyes roll to the back of my head. Within seconds, I''m out of it.


    My name is Jennifer Dooley, and this is how my night ended.


    So, then, how did it begin? The same way it always had¡ªwith the piece of shit I call a father, Eric, screaming at my mother.


    According to Eric, his food was ice cold by the time my mother, Nina, had served it to him. It wasn''t. It never was. But my mother knew that. She knew it for longer than the seventeen years I''ve been alive. Yet, she did what she always did when he manufactured some reason to bully her¡ªshe apologized. She begged for his forgiveness, promising to take it back to the kitchen and bring it back piping hot. The only way a plate with so much steam billowing from its contents could get any hotter is if she set it on fire. He knew that, which is why instead of handing the food to her, he knocked it to the floor.


    It was rare, but every now and again, my mother would find a reservoir of self-worth deep within. When that happened, an argument would erupt, and this time was no different. I excused myself, as I always did. Nothing sickened me more than listening to the same, formulaic bullshit that always ended with him getting his way and her acquiescing to him. During these situations, I tended to retreat to my room and lose myself in the deafening blares of my music. But this time, as I was halfway up the stairs, I heard my mother make a sound that turned my stomach. It was an abrupt gurgle, the kind someone makes when they suddenly lose the capacity to breathe.


    It had become my personal rule after years of being berated and slapped for interfering in their arguments that I would never get involved unless I feared for my mother''s life. Well, hearing my mother make that awful sound triggered that exact fear inside me, and for that reason, I darted back down the stairs and into the kitchen to find Eric with his hands wrapped around my mother''s neck, choking her. He had always been an angry, violent asshole that wasn''t above striking me and my mother, but he had never escalated beyond slaps. I wasn''t prepared for what I saw, and I froze for a second as I processed that for the first time, Eric was actually trying to kill my mother.


    "Don''t you ever talk to me like that again!" he had yelled at her. He was squeezing her throat so hard the veins were beginning to bulge from the back of his huge, hairy hands.


    I snapped out of my trance when my mother choked out a pained, meek whimper that sent me into a frenzy. I grabbed his arms, trying to pry them off my mother while I rapidly cursed the bastard. I couldn''t even get my hands all the way around the asshole''s forearms, and mom was starting to turn red. In furious desperation, I sunk my teeth into his arm, which made him howl like the animal he is. It worked, and he released my mother from his iron grip as thin rivers of his blood began to seep from the sides of my mouth.


    "You fucking bitch!" he roared.


    And that''s when it happened.


    With the arm I wasn''t biting, he balled up his huge hand into a fist, and punched me in the face with such force that I flew backwards. I hit the back of my head, first on the sharp edge of the table, then on the hardwood floor. I heard a disgusting crack, and then my vision went dark. When I opened my eyes again, my mother was kneeling over me, screaming into her phone, eyes wide and pouring tears. Eric was pacing back and forth, pulling his hair with an empty, thousand-yard stare in his bloodshot eyes. My head rolled to the side involuntarily and my heart jumped when I noticed the blood that had pooled around my skull. It was like I had laid my head down in a crimson rain puddle¡ªthe sight alone was enough to make me sick. I found myself unable to control my body as it began to twitch and convulse on its own accord.


    "You killed my baby girl, you fucking bastard!" I heard my mother cry, and then I blacked out.


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    And that''s how my night began and ended. Not exactly a heartwarming story, now, is it?


    For the third time, I feel my eyes slowly flutter open. Immediately, the repetitive beep of a heart rate monitor fills my ears. As my vision comes into focus, I ascertain the obvious. I''m in a hospital room, lying in a bed with machines hooked up to me left and right. The first thing I notice is my mom, she''s seated in a chair next to my bed, her head laid beside my legs, fast asleep.


    A television in the top right corner of the room plays The Price is Right at a low volume, and I can see at the bottom corner of the screen that it''s eleven A.M., the next morning. A wave of pain courses through my head and I groan, causing my mom to abruptly rise out of the heap of mid-length, brown hair that had masked her sleeping features.


    "Oh my god, you''re awake!" she says, nearly leaping to her feet. The chair skids back an inch on the floor, creating an annoying screech that makes my eye twitch, something I can tell she notices immediately. "I''m sorry! N-Nurse, my baby is awake!"


    The squishy clacking of shoe on tile approaches my room, and in a few seconds, a man wearing navy scrubs appears in the doorway. He steps over to me and smiles at me. "Good morning, it''s good to see you''re awake. You had us all scared last night, Jennifer."


    "Oh," I say. My voice sounds hoarse and exhausted.


    "Can I call you Jen?" he asks. I reply with a nod. "Great! Well, Jen, you cracked your skull and have a pretty bad concussion to boot. We want to run some more tests and keep you here to watch over you until we feel confident that you''ll be okay. Head injuries are nothing to mess around with."


    I didn''t crack my skull, Eric did. That fucking bastard.


    The memory of last night slowly returns to me, and the beeps on my heart rate monitor increase as a result.


    "Is she okay?" my mom asks, worry in her words.


    "Don''t worry, Ms. Dooley. She''s fine, the pain is probably just setting in again. I''ll be back with some more medicine."


    The nurse exits the room, and my mother flashes a forced, tired smile at me.


    "Show me what I look like," I ask my mother. She frowns.


    "Why do you want to see yourself right now, baby?"


    "Please, just show me, mom."


    She sighs and retrieves her phone from her purse. She turns the device on in selfie mode and holds it up to me. The image the camera and screen reveals is a far cry from the picture my brain is familiar with. An unrepentant punk girl through and through, I typically fashioned my clavicle-length, dark hair into two pigtails, leaving my blunt bangs to frame my features which usually wore dark makeup. Mom always jokes that I look like Pauley Perrette, the actress that played the forensic scientist on that show NCIS, and yeah, I guess she''s not wrong. But at the moment, I looked nothing like myself. My face was bare and swollen, bruised where Eric''s fist made contact. My hair was clipped back and framed with thick bandaging that stretched the circumference of my head. I looked awful, and I knew I would. But I needed to see myself. More specifically, I needed to see the result of what I always knew that monster was capable of.


    "Where is he?" I asked, bluntly.


    Mom put the phone back in her purse and looked at me with a firm expression. "Jail. I''m pressing charges against him for assaulting both of us."


    "Oh, so you''re not covering for him this time?"


    Mom hangs her head and shuts her brown eyes tightly. Her lips quiver and she begins to sniffle and cry immediately.


    I shouldn''t have said that...


    "Mom, I''m sorry. I didn''t mean to¡ª"


    "No, you''re right," she interrupts. Her voice hitches as she speaks. "Y-You''ve always been right. I did cover for him. I made excuses for his behavior and looked the other way when he hit us. I groveled when he demanded apologies from me, and I hopped on your case when you called me out for all of it. And the worst part of it all is that I still would have been doing the same thing if he hadn''t gone as far as he did..."


    I feel tears begin streaming down my own cheeks as I watch my mother tormented by her guilt. Guilt that he above anyone else is responsible for.


    "But he went too far this time," mom says, clenching her fist tightly¡ªsomething I''ve never seen her do. "He almost killed my baby girl. God, I was so scared I would lose you!"


    "He almost killed you too, mom. Please don''t forget that."


    "You come before anything, Jen. I''m your mother, that''s how it''s supposed to be. I failed you so many times... too many times. But not anymore. I decided that I''m going to divorce him."


    My heart did a backflip with joy inside my chest at the words coming out of her mouth.


    "Seriously?!"


    "Yes," she confirmed. "Enough is enough."


    "I wish I could hug you right now," I said, the words falling out of my mouth with a hoarse chuckle.


    "So do I, baby. But I''m afraid I''ll hurt you!"


    We shared a laugh as the nurse returned to the room. He seemed happy to see us in higher spirits than he left us. He once again stepped out after medicating me and speaking with my mother about what the next couple of days would entail for me. After he left, mom sat beside me again and held my hand.


    "I don''t want to upset you, Jen, but I do have something that I have to tell you that might make you not so happy with me anymore."


    This medicine has me feeling too good to be upset, I thought.


    "What is it, mom?"


    "Well," she started. "Given everything that''s happened, I don''t think it''s a good idea to stay in that house anymore. The neighbors will talk, and I don''t want all that negative attention following you to school. Plus, too much of Eric''s family lives close by, and you know what they''re like. They already hate me; they''ll blame us for everything and try to make our lives hell."


    "So, you want to move?" I asked.


    "Yes."


    "Well, okay, I guess. But where would we go?"


    Mom took a breath and bit her lip, as if she was bracing for my reaction. Releasing her lips from the sharp grip of her teeth, she spoke. "Redville."


    You''ve got to be shitting me.

 Chapter 1: Welcome to Redville

    It''s always darkest before the dawn.


    What a crock.


    Life isn''t as simple as some pretty platitude or movie. If it were, then the credits would have rolled on my film after the moment my mom and I shared together in the hospital. The stinger would show the two of us living happily together, without a care in the world. But life isn''t a movie, and contrary to that optimistic clich¨¦, bad things usually get worse, not better.


    It''s been two months since I was almost killed by my so-called father, Eric. I wish I could say it''s been sunshine and rainbows since then, but in fact, it''s almost like those few, magical moments I shared with mom never happened. The reality of a life after that scumbag has set in, and while it should be just as amazing as I''ve spent the last seventeen years dreaming it would be... it isn''t.


    In a quarter mile, turn right, the GPS on mom''s phone says, robotically. It continues to be the only thing that has spoken inside the car in hours.


    In the time since my discharge from the hospital, my head has gradually healed. Though, frequent headaches and other post-concussion symptoms still plagued me. According to the doctor, it would be a few more months before it was considered fully healed, so I still needed to take care. Unfortunately, being on the road for nine hours straight wasn''t helping much. We had begun traveling in the wee hours of the morning, and since then, the sun had risen and shone so bright that I instantly developed a migraine. For whatever reason, I don''t own a pair of sunglasses. So, I''ve been at the mercy of whatever beams the visor can''t keep out of my eyes for a while now. Fun.


    "We''re almost there, get yourself ready," mom says, finally breaking the hours long silence.


    "Whatever."


    Mom sucks her teeth and rolls her eyes at my response, and I couldn''t give any less of a shit.


    She has some nerve getting upset with me for anything. Despite all her grandstanding and bright, shining words, she''s the one who went running to visit Eric in jail the first second he called apologizing. No matter how much she denies it, it''s obvious that she is beginning to second-guess herself for leaving the asshole. Thankfully, he''s still rotting in a cell for what he did, and the divorce is still ongoing. But lately, she''s begun drinking herself stupid over this situation for reasons I can''t fathom. Not only that, but I''ve caught her sneaking glances at old pictures of them together several times already. Pathetic.


    I thought she claimed that him nearly killing me was "too far", but I guess I''m really not that important to her after all. Still need to waste tears and play nice with an abuser.


    Blegh.


    Mom obeyed the GPS system and turned right at the prompt. The road we turned onto was annoyingly bumpy and uneven, like it hadn''t been paved in years. That had been the case for the past few minutes as well, but it made more sense when the roads we had driven on were lined with nothing but trees. Now that we were driving through this miserable excuse for a town, it was far more noticeable. Though, honestly, it was far from out of place. Everywhere I looked, something was rundown. Shopping center? Rundown. Diner? Rundown. Church? Especially rundown.


    What a pile of shit.


    No, wait, it''s Redville¡ªmy mother''s twisted idea of paradise!


    I grew up there, it''ll be great! she had said. Yes, because you grew up in some backwards, backwoods, trash fire of a town, I have to as well. And that''s the thing, she made such a big deal out of this entire move being all for my sake. Yeah, right. She should''ve known damn well that this is the last place I''d ever want to even look at on a map.


    This isn''t even the first time I''ve been here or made my feelings about it known. We visited this place when I was younger, and I hated every second of it. The town is the definition of a Potemkin Village, with shoddy-looking everything barely concealing the fact that there''s nothing to do but get smothered in ticks. The people are painfully fake, the air stinks of animal feces, and most of the buildings all looked¡ªshocker¡ªrundown. But mom loved it, of course, because it was nostalgic for her. She was the "bare feet in the grass" type growing up. Give me a break. Just about the only thing I ever agreed with that shit-stain Eric about in my entire life is that this place is complete and utter garbage.


    Boy, they had one hell of a fight when he told her right to her face that this place was shit. She had been excited to show him the precious place where she grew up for years, just for him to react like that. Oh well, that''s the price one pays for marrying a sentient pool of vomit.


    Anyway.


    We drove through the drab, ugly town I was soon to see too much of, and after a short distance, turned yet again onto a rural road. A small community of houses came into view, all of them lined up with a decent amount of space separating them. The lots weren''t farmland or ranches or anything, but they weren''t your average, cramped suburban properties either. There was enough space between the homes to create a sense of privacy and breathing room.


    Mom brought the car to a stop on a driveway just outside of a blue, two-story house at the end of the street. As we pulled in, I immediately took note of a sign that carried the name of our new address.


    Melancholy Lane.


    How inviting.


    I mean, seriously? You can''t write this shit.


    "We''re here," mom said, unceremoniously. She opened the door, stepped outside, and began to stretch her legs. "Come on, get out already."


    I reluctantly obeyed and exited the vehicle. The house that loomed over me had clearly seen better days. It wasn''t in the worst shape I''d ever seen, but it was obvious it hadn''t been built recently or been maintained very well by its previous owners. The exterior''s blue color appeared long tarnished, stained all over from uncontrolled exposure to the elements, and the paint on the white, two-car garage doors and the frame surrounding them was chipping badly in places as well.


    "Looks like paradise, mom."


    "Quell the attitude and help me bring our bags inside."


    Ever the loyal soldier, I gave her a mighty salute and opened the trunk to begin doing as she asked. She made a face that suggested she didn''t appreciate my gesture, but I think she realized that making a situation out of it would have just irritated the both of us. Instead, she walked up to the front door of the house and unlocked it as I loaded several bags into my hands and onto my shoulders.


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    Gray clouds began to roll in alarmingly fast, blocking out the sun and draining the color from just about everything on the street. Fitting, one might say. But I digress.


    Mom came back down the stairs and took a few bags from the back of the car before leading the way up the stairs and into the house. I followed closely behind.


    She had basically gone about the entire process of getting the house while I was focused on recovering from my injury, so up to this point, I hadn''t even seen a single picture of what the place looked like. Upon stepping inside, I finally got my first glimpse of our new home.


    "Here it is," said mom, a proud smile forming on her lips.


    I stood beside her, taking in the scene. The scent was the first thing that struck me. It was a combination of pine-scented, recently scrubbed wood floor, and that pristine smell of a closed space absent of people or animals to taint the air. Altogether, the aroma that filled my nose could best be described as the instantly familiar "new house" smell. I hadn''t encountered it in years, but it''s something you never forget once you''ve had a whiff.


    Conversely, nothing my eyes could see was familiar at all. To my immediate left, a white staircase with brown, wooden steps resided. It led up for about five steps, stopping at a flat landing before continuing right and up into a hall that was too dark to see from where I was standing. The walls that wrapped around the foyer and into the other rooms were covered in a calming, cream colored paint that nicely complimented a shiny, beige wood floor. On the wall, not too far from where I stood, was a stone fireplace. I admit, it was pretty, and like the rest of the interior so far, it looked quite clean. What a contrast from the glum, off-putting exterior.


    "What do you think?" asked mom.


    "It''s... better on the inside than out."


    "High praise, coming from you, Jen," she quipped. "Go set those bags down in the living room for now, then we can go get the rest."


    I did as she requested and took the opportunity to peer into the other rooms. In total, I noted a foyer, living room, family room, dining room, kitchen, and bathroom. And this was before considering the basement and the second floor! Sure, the lack of furniture made the rooms look larger than they would inevitably become, but all things considered, this house was larger than I expected. In fact, it was too large for just two people, and definitely too large for what I assume our budget had to be. After dropping the bags, I turned to mom and voiced my confusion.


    "Don''t you think this place is too big for the two of us? I mean, this is even bigger than our old house. How can you even afford this?" I asked.


    "One of the great things about this place is how modestly priced the houses are. I tried to tell you I had very good reasons for wanting to move to Redville, but all you do lately is get mad at everything I say instead of just listening to me."


    "That''s funny, mom. Because if you listened to me, you''d know how much I hated this place the first time you dragged me here. You know what? Screw that. If you ever listened to me, maybe you would have acted like a woman rather than a scared little girl and left that piece of shit Eric years ago instead of waiting till he tried to kill us."


    A flush of anger came over her face and she spoke curtly. "I owned up to what I did and apologized to you. The fact that you would even say something like that is¡ª"


    A sudden knock on the frame of our open front door took us both out of the moment.


    "Hello, neighbors! Hope we''re not interrupting something..." said a man on our porch.


    Mom''s demeanor flipped instantly, and she replied, "of course not!" Hurriedly, she stepped away from me and approached the door.


    Yeah, go put on a face. It''s what you seem to do best these days, mother dearest.


    Rather than waste my time awkwardly standing around and listening to a painfully artificial conversation, I decided to go to the living room and start unpacking whatever we would need tonight. The movers wouldn''t be arriving with our stuff for another day, so we brought as many useful items that could fit into the car as possible. Toiletries, flashlights, a first-aid kit, and two air mattresses are just some of the things we had enough foresight to lug along with us.


    After the long day I''ve had, I just want to take a nice, hot shower and fall into a cozy, bouncy bed. So, naturally, I grabbed one of the air mattresses, the air pump, and the bag with our shower stuff, and placed them aside. Here''s hoping the bathroom is as nice as the rest of the house has been so far.


    As I rifled through the bags, I admit that my curiosity was piqued. The conversation I had been ignoring between my mom and that man had seemingly changed while my thoughts were elsewhere. There were now two other voices in the mix that I didn''t recognize¡ªlaughing and chatting away. As much as I tried to fight the urge to pay it any attention, I found myself looking out the archway of the living room to catch a glimpse of what was going on.


    There were three figures standing at the entrance: the man from before, a woman, and a girl who looked about my age. The first two weren''t anything special, to be honest. The man wore a dark red polo, regular, blue jeans, and had short, brown hair, and a pair of black glasses on his face. He looked like the typical sitcom dad, and the same could be said about the woman next to him. She wore a plaid shirt and sky-blue jeans, and had layered, blonde hair with bangs draping down on either side of her face, framing it. To say that her hair resembled every newscaster woman ever is the easiest way to describe it. Like I said, both the man and the woman were the same unremarkable people you''ve seen a million times over in every town ever.


    The girl was the one in the trio that really caught my attention. Her hair was neck length, dyed bright blue, and fashioned in the "scene" style, with sideswept bangs resting over her left eye. On the one eye that I could see, she wore a mix of black and dark blue eyeliner that gave it a rather sharp appearance. A black belly shirt hugged her torso, exposing her navel, yet, her arms remained covered by the long sleeves of a lower cut, white undershirt. On her bottom half, she wore dark blue skinny jeans and a pair of slightly worn looking black and white canvas shoes.


    Just looking at how eye-catching the girl was made me think of myself a little bit. My gothic style has always attracted a lot of negative attention and made me an easy target for bullies and old, nosey, religious nuts with plenty of unsolicited opinions about me. I''ve never cared about any of that because I wear the look for me, not to impress anyone else or gain their approval. But I''ve never come across anyone else who dressed as blatantly outlandish as myself. So, seeing the girl was admittedly refreshing.


    As I looked on, examining the three individuals standing on the porch, mom turned in my direction and waved me over.


    I might be a bit curious, but that doesn''t mean I''m in a rush to socialize with anyone from this accursed town. Looks like I have no choice now, though.


    Ugh, here we go.


    I got up and walked up beside my mom, doing my best not to look as nonplussed as I felt.


    "Honey," mom started. "These are our new neighbors. They came to welcome us to the neighborhood! Isn''t that sweet?"


    She said that last part with a little insinuation. I guess I''m supposed to be captivated by the "charm" of this place or whatever. Do yourself a favor and save it, mom.


    "We''re sorry we dropped by unannounced," the man said, looking at me. "But we saw your car pull up outside and figured you must be the new neighbors. We''re old school, so we like to greet new folks around here."


    "No need to apologize," mom replied. "What you''re doing is absolutely appreciated. This is my daughter Jen, by the way."


    The man smiled at us and continued. "Nice to meet you, Jen! But where''s our manners? We should reintroduce ourselves. I''m Clark. This is my wife, Melissa. And this is our wonderful daughter, Heather. We''re the Matthews!"


    "Nice to meet you all too," I replied, wearing the best polite fa?ade I could manage.


    Heather was standing front and center, flanked by her parents in a perfect, triangular formation. She was holding a large, plastic food container in her hands. What looked like a bevy of chocolate-chip cookies were visible beneath the clear, plastic top her black painted fingernails rested on.


    "These are for you two, by the way," said Clark. "A little gift from our family to yours."


    Mom looked touched by their gesture and took the container from Heather. "How nice of you! They look delicious."


    "Oh, trust me honey, you''ll love them. Our darling, Heather, made them all by herself!" Melissa declared, proudly.


    "Wow, that''s amazing!" mom said.


    "Hey, you know what?" Clark started. "I couldn''t help but notice you still had some bags in your trunk. Why don''t you let Melissa and I give you a hand with that and let our girls get to know each other?"


    Mom gave me an excited look and said, "that''s a fantastic idea! Why don''t you two go hang out in the backyard while we do that?"


    Well, now that you''ve put me on the spot, what choice do I have?


    "Sure," I said.


    Heather stepped inside the house and said, "then what are you waiting for? Let''s go have a little chat..."

 Chapter 2: Love Thy Neighbor

    The world is black and white. A fleet of thick, asymmetrical clouds bathe the land below in grayscale, dulling the lush green under my boots, but not the fierce sapphire of my companion''s hair. We had walked out into the backyard where I found that the previous owners had left behind a swing set. Heather and I sat beside one another on the adjacent seats, gripping the chains suspending us in our hands as one instinctively does.


    "So," Heather began with a welcoming smile, "let''s break the ice."


    "Sure."


    "I absolutely love your hair! Those pigtails and bangs rule. Honestly, your whole goth look rules," she said. Every time her pink lips parted, they revealed glimpses of a perfect set of white teeth.


    "Thanks, back at you. I really like your blue hair and your bangs."


    "Aw, thanks! But really, did anyone ever tell you that you look like¡ª"


    "Abby from NCIS?" I interjected.


    "Sure, but I was actually thinking more of an anime character."


    "Oh," I laughed. "Maybe once or twice. I do love anime, so thanks. Glad you''re cool with the look and don''t think I''m a Satanist or something."


    "I''d think you were cooler if you were," she said, a cheeky grin spread across her face.


    "Well, that''s good to know."


    She chuckled and held out a hand to me. "Heather Matthews."


    I shook her hand and replied, "Jennifer Dooley. Just Jen, though, please."


    "Jen it is! So, mind if I ask you a personal question?"


    "Huh? Oh, yeah. Sure."


    Heather stroked the discolored chains with her thumbs and spoke, her demeanor somewhat absentminded. "I heard you and your mom going at it pretty hard before. What''s with that?"


    She heard that? Well, I guess we were talking pretty loud with the door wide open.


    "Oh, um..."


    "Private?" she asked.


    "It''s just... stupid. This whole situation is." I replied.


    "I''m all ears."


    She looked at me with sympathetic, yet excited, piercing blue eyes. I get the sense she''s a bit of a gossip, but I guess that''s the reality of living in a place where nothing interesting ever happens. I usually prefer to keep my private life private, but she had already heard some of what I said anyway. And to be honest, I''ve never really had a friend before. I''ve kept this all inside so long that it might be nice to unload some of this frustration to someone else for once.


    "It''s a long story," I started. "But the gist of it is that my dad was abusing me and my mom for years. He finally took things too far and punched me so hard I cracked my skull. Now he''s in jail, my mom is still pining for him, and I''m just sick of everything. There you go, that''s my tale."


    Heather''s eyes grew larger the more I spoke, and she visibly recoiled when I mentioned my head injury. "Holy shit... That''s heavy, Jen. Is your head still cracked right now?"


    "Technically, yeah. Supposedly almost healed up."


    "Wow, you''ve been through a lot. I''m sorry that all happened to you." She rubbed my back gently as she consoled me.


    "It''s not your fault, Heather. But it''s nice to hear that from someone besides my two-faced mother."


    "Is this what brought you two to Redville?" she asked. "People like you don''t usually come to a place like this."


    "Yeah," I confirmed. "My mom grew up here, so she dragged me out to this place while they work out their divorce."


    "That makes sense. So, what do you think of it so far?"


    "No offense to you, but this place is a shithole."


    Heather erupted into laughter and grinned at me. "You''re so blunt, Jen. I love it. We''re birds of a ''no bullshit'' feather."


    "That''s certainly a way to put it," I laughed. "The house is nice, though, I guess. Well, on the inside, at least. I''m still shocked my mom was able to get a place like this for so cheap, but I guess the one compliment I''ll pay this place is how cheap everything is."


    Heather just stared at me like I had grown a second head.


    "What?" I asked.


    "Holy shit, you really don''t know, do you?"


    She seemed both completely shocked and slightly amused at my confusion.


    "Uh, what are you talking about?"


    "Hate to say it, but ''mommy'' lied to you, Jen. The houses around here aren''t as expensive as most other places, I''m sure, but that''s definitely not why you two got this house so cheap."


    "Okay...? Care to explain?"


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    Heather leaned in close to me and ushered for me to do the same. I did so, growing a bit anxious for some reason.


    "The family that used to live here was our old neighbors, the Millers," Heather said, in a whisper. "Typical family, mother, father, and two sons our age. Anyway, they took off in the middle of the night one day last year. Left all their shit behind and everything."


    "So, like, they just left and never came back?" I asked.


    Her lips curved into an unstable smirk, like she was trying to stifle a laugh. "Yeah, they never came back because they turned up in pieces on the side of the road not too far from here."


    My blood ran cold, and I nearly choked mid-swallow as a lump abruptly materialized in my throat.


    "What...?" I asked in disbelief.


    "Wild, right? Yeah, rumor has it the parents owed some money to the wrong people or something. But yeah. Mother, father, both sons, all of them were chopped to pieces and left on the side of the road heading out of town. They found their car all charred up some ways away too," Heather said. "That''s why your house was so cheap. No one in their right mind wanted the place after that¡ªexcept your mom, I guess. They hauled out all their stuff, cleaned out the inside, and left it like that till now."


    I just stared down at the grass as I came to grips with what Heather said.


    I mean, what the hell, mom?!


    How could she move us into the home of a dead¡ªno, murdered family without telling me anything?


    "Are you okay?" Heather asked.


    "How could I be? Why wouldn''t she tell something like that? How could she even live in a place like this?"


    "Well, maybe she didn''t think it was a big deal. You should ask her yourself."


    "Oh, I plan to," I said. "But what about you? Did you know them? What happened when you found out?"


    Heather sighed and looked up at the sky. The clouds were still smothering the sun in their bloated masses. "I did. They were nice people, but after a while, their sons started to become... unpleasant."


    "What do you mean?" I asked.


    "Just rude, and stuff. I don''t know how to explain it. We were good friends, and then they just changed one day, disappeared and turned up dead. It all happened so fast. Life keeps moving, you know?"


    "That seems a bit cold," I said.


    "Maybe, but I can''t overstate how mean they became towards me in the end. I guess I just have to ''not care'' to cope with the fact that, you know, someone brutally murdered them. I don''t know, it''s all so crazy."


    The two of us went quiet for a bit and I rubbed her shoulder gently to show my support for her this time. I''m having a hard time dealing with this just knowing it happened in the house I''m supposed to live in, I can only imagine how she feels having actually known the victims. How could anyone do something so horrific to another human being, let alone a whole family? Then again, maybe I shouldn''t be so surprised. Disgusting acts of human violence is exactly why I''m in this place now, right?


    As we sat in silence, a frog emerged from the grass, hopping out of a particularly thick section and right between the two of us on the ground below.


    "Whoa, check it out!" Heather said. "Where did this little guy come from?"


    "No clue, I didn''t even hear any croaking."


    "These things are so damn cute," she said. "I used to love dissecting them when I was younger."


    I looked at her with an expression that made her do a double take. "Uh, really? That''s not what I was expecting you to say at all. Most people hate having to do that kind of stuff in school."


    "I''m not like most people," she said, proudly. "People make a big deal out of nothing. I enjoyed it, anyway."


    "Speaking of school," I started, "what''s the high school like, anyway?"


    "Oh, Jen. If you hated Redville already, you''re about to hate it even more."


    That''s not ominous at all!


    "Sounds real fun," I said.


    "What can I say? You weren''t wrong before. This place sucks and I can''t wait for the day I get out of here. That school embodies everything wrong with Redville. Everyone is nosey and just loves trying to tell you what to do and how to live your life. Shithole indeed."


    It was honestly a massive relief to hear that sentiment from her. I was afraid that she would turn out to be the type that viewed this place as some sort of misunderstood haven or whatever. But knowing that she saw it for what I always knew it was made me feel a bit more relaxed around her.


    "Guess I''m going to have a ball there, then."


    "Don''t worry about it too much," she said, grasping my hand. "I''ll look out for you. What kind of friend would I be if I left you to the wolves?"


    Friend, huh? I could get used to that.


    I smiled and squeezed her hand in my own. "Thanks, Heather. It means a lot."


    "Don''t mention it, Jen. Oh, hey! Let''s exchange numbers so we can stay in touch. I imagine you''re going to be pretty bored tonight with the lack of stuff in your house and all that..."


    "Oh, sure. Yeah, our stuff isn''t coming till tomorrow, so it could be fun to text or whatever."


    We entered our contact information into our respective phones, and Heather''s mom, Melissa, began shouting from the back door.


    "Come on, honey! We have to let these folks unpack!"


    "Coming!" Heather replied. She hopped off the swing and turned to me. "See you later, Jen. Don''t forget to text me."


    And with that, my new friend and her family bid mom and I farewell. We shut the doors and stepped into the living room. A pile of bags lay neatly placed in the middle of the room, ready to be unloaded.


    "How did it go? Did you two get along?" mom asked, excitement in her voice. I folded my arms and just shook my head at her which drew a confused expression. "What?"


    "You lied to me."


    "I lied?"


    "Yes, when you said houses were always cheap around here. Unless what you really meant to say was that whole families regularly end up dismembered in Redville. I guess I see how that would lower the property values."


    She sighed heavily and grabbed the bridge of her nose. "Jen, I''m sorry. I wasn''t trying to lie or keep secrets from you, but we needed something fast, and it''s not like what happened actually took place in this house, so I thought¡ª"


    "Thought what?" I interrupted. "That it wouldn''t bother me? Why doesn''t it bother you?"


    "Of course it bothers me! But I had to think of you first. We needed a place to go, we have one now. Please understand that."


    "Oh my god," I said, raising my voice in frustration. "You apologize for one lie just to go and do it again! Stop saying this stupid decision was for me. It wasn''t, it was for you!"


    She folded her lips and narrowed her eyes at me. A sarcastic chuckle left her throat, and she ran an irritated hand through her brown hair. "Mm-hm."


    "What, so you admit you dragged me to this place for you and not me?"


    "You know what? Yes, I do. I''ve been through enough, okay? This is where I want to spend the rest of my life. If you don''t like that, I''m sorry. I really, really am. But you''ll never be happy with anything I do because you hate me."


    "Are you seriously trying to turn this around on me?!" I yelled. "I don''t hate you. How could you even say that? Stop acting like I don''t have a reason to be upset with you. My whole life has been one big mess because of your fuck ups and I''m the bad guy for having the nerve to be disgruntled about it?"


    Mom looked overcome with anger and raised her hand to my face suddenly, ready to slap me, but she stopped short when I flinched and reflexively guarded my head between my arms. Against my own will, I whimpered and began to shake violently, tears falling from my eyes as anger, fear, regret, and sadness ensnared me in a cage that paralyzed my movements.


    "Oh my god... Jen, baby, I''m so sorry!" mom said, immediately bursting into tears of her own. She reached out to wrap her arms around me, but I shoved her away and ran past her and up the stairs.


    Unfamiliar with the second floor, I stumbled into one of the empty rooms and threw the door shut behind me, locking it immediately. I began to sob hysterically as my legs went limp and my body slowly slid down the wall and onto the carpet.


    In this empty space, I was seven years old¡ªwhimpering and crying like a helpless, pathetic mess all over again.