"Being there isn't the same as belonging there."
C H A P T E R 1
L U C I A N A
"This is a wild game of survival."
Humming along with the radio, I was driving home after a long day at work. Ruelle really knew what she was talking about. Wonder how she found out about what's under the sugar-coating of the world.
I was driving home in my red sedan as I usually did but something felt different today. My gut instinct told me that something was wrong but I brushed it off as the jitters of being tired.
Out of all the things I could have done, I worked as an assistant for a publisher. Which meant a lot of papers.
And I mean lots of them.
Oh, working is so exhausting. Man, I am so hungry, what should I have for dinner today? Tacos or Sandwiches?
I parked my expensive vehicle to the left of my worn looking but cozy home and got out of the car. I glimpsed my face in the side mirror.
Ugh, I looked like I had crawled out of a zombie movie. Shoulder length hair escaping out of its bun, bags under my eyes. I was a sight to look at. Shaking my head, I frowned. At least there was no one at home who would look at me.
The perks of living alone.
Maybe I'll call in sick tomorrow and have a day in bed.
Building up the lie I would recite to my boss, I followed my usual path to the front door but froze mid-step. Then I saw it, mud all over my freshly cleaned porch. A few seconds later it hit me like a ton of bricks.
Someone was in the house.
Someone found me.
I took a deep breath. No point is panicking. I had to do something. Anything.
I looked around to see if there was anything around me I could use as a weapon. My eyes landed on the broken lawn mower on the garden bed which was supposed to be kept inside but me being me was too lazy to do it. I was going to have to treat myself to a huge ice cream sundae for being lazy after this.
Assuming that I live.
Oh, how confident I am.
My legs moved towards the machine as if having a mind of their own. I remembered that I had a key chain screwdriver attached to my key ring.
Thank the person who's brilliant idea it was to put tools on key chains. I seriously owe you one.
I knelt next to it and used the mini screw driver from my bag and began unscrewing the bottom blade which I planned to use as a temporary weapon.
Clutching the circular blade to my chest, it's weight giving me a little reassurance, I made my way over to the front door for the second time. I tried the handle, which was locked. I glanced through the windows and saw that the living room is empty.
Huh, my intruder had a little common sense, but who would leave all the mud on the porch like that and not expect to be caught?
Amateur move.
Standing on my now dirty porch, I carefully unzipped the little sling bag on my right and fished out my key to unlock the door, trying my best not to make a sound which probably didn't matter since whoever was inside clearly saw me get out of my car. But my body was taken over by a version of me that was calm and worked well under pressure.
As soon as I had gotten the door open, I raised the blade to shield myself expecting someone or something to jump out at me. Thankfully, no one did. I walked in, feeling the adrenaline pumping in my veins, and moved my hand to the wall and felt around for the light switch and turned it on.
Everything was completely normal. Not a single thing was out of place. But I decided to follow my intuition. I pushed my black hair out of my eyes and continued forward, not missing a beat.
Moving in, I switched the blade to one hand and raised it, ready to strike. I let my eyes scan over the familiar surroundings trying to find something unusual, finding nothing I quietly moved towards my bedroom, thankful that my new boots didn't let out a sound as much as a squeak.
Good to know that these boots were pretty and stealthy.
Just as I reached the door, I let my hand tighten around the knob and twisted it, then in one swift motion I pushed the door open.
After looking through everything, I sighed. Nothing out of place here either.
Reassuring myself that no one was in the room, I left the blade on a side table and walked over to the center of the room and flipped the brown wool carpet, feeling around for a loose floorboard. Finally, after what felt like hours, my fingers gripped the loose piece of wood and pull it out.
There in the small closed place was a small black bag, about the size of a clutch. I pulled it out and unzipped it. The contents of the bag brought back many old memories, reminding me why I was in this situation in the first place. Reminding me why I had to leave. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and let my hands close over the cold metal.
Standing, I opened my eyes and let my body go into alert mode. I recalled all the things I saw, mud all over the front porch, door locked, no lights and untouched bedroom. A million things ran through my head.
Could I be worrying for no reason? Could the mud be some kind of prank organized by the neighborhood kids? Am I over reacting?
No, my gut feelings have always been right. I will go through the house, check everything, then double check before letting it off as a prank. I will not risk their safety. No, I will get through whatever this is by myself. No matter what.
Exiting the bedroom, I moved over to the living room and started walking around. As I moved around I noticed that there is mud here as well.
Someone has definitely been here.
Hearing something, I turned back and raised the gun in my hand.
Standing in front of me was someone I thought I would never see again.