The moment I stepped out of Allison's car, I couldn't believe my eyes. The moment I stepped out of Allison's car, I couldn't believe my eyes. The house before me was like something out of a dream—familiar, yet strangely foreign. Its soft yellow paint and crisp white shutters radiated warmth, as if beckoning me closer. The yard teemed with vibrant flowers that swayed gently in the breeze, their colors a celebration of life.On the porch, a few rocking chairs and a porch swing seemed to promise quiet moments of peace. I could almost picture myself curled up on one of the chairs, a book in hand, or lying in the grass, feeling completely at one with nature. Though the house was clearly old, it carried a timeless charm, whispering of stories and memories that lingered within its walls.
"When they heard what you went through, they wanted to help," the caseworker said, her voice a calm, a reassuring presence as she closed the car door behind me. "They are a very prestigious family, with the means to care for you long after you become an adult. You're in good hands."
I nodded reluctantly, my fingers tightening around the handle of my battered suitcase. My gaze drifted upward, taking in the beautiful home before me. The thought of stepping inside stirred a strange mix of awe and dread. How could someone like me ever live up to the expectations of those who called a place like this home?
"What if I mess this up?" I mumbled under my breath, barely audible.
Allison caught the words anyway. "You won't. Just be yourself, Eden."
Good people. The phrase felt foreign, almost alien to me. I wanted to believe it, to let the words settle into my heart, but my stomach churned with unease as I took my first tentative step toward the old oak doors. "I can't do this," I muttered, my voice barely louder than the breeze.
I stopped just shy of the threshold, my resolve faltering. Before I could turn back and retreat to the safety of the car, the door creaked open. Standing in its place was a strikingly beautiful woman, her presence radiating both warmth and strength.
She was tall and elegant, with a natural grace that made her seem almost otherworldly. Her hair was a cascade of deep chestnut waves, catching the light as though kissed by the sun. Her eyes, a piercing shade of green flecked with gold, seemed to see straight through me. A soft smile curved her lips, but there was something about her, an air of quiet authority and kindness that made it impossible to look away. She wore a flowing blouse and black shorts, her style understated but effortlessly polished, as though she belonged in a painting hung on the walls of this very home.
"Hi," I said, my voice faltering slightly. "I'm Eden."
Her eyes lit up with excitement as she stepped forward, closing the distance between us. Before I could react, she wrapped me in an enthusiastic, slightly awkward hug. Her grip was warm but firm, and I found myself caught between surprise and unease.
"You can call me Em," she said as she pulled away. Her southern twang hit me like a wave, so much like my mother's that it made my head spin.
"Oh, dear," she murmured, her brow knitting with concern as she caught my arm to steady me.
"I'm sorry," I said instinctively.
"Don't be," she replied, her tone calm and reassuring. "Let me show you to your room so you can rest."
I nodded, silently agreeing, and followed her up the stairs. Halfway up, I paused and glanced back, my eyes searching for Allison. But she was gone, vanished as if she'd never been there at all.
"When you're ready, just come downstairs, and I'll take you to the grocery store," she said as we walked down a long, bare hallway. "I want you to pick out everything you'd like to eat."
She gestured back toward the stairs before continuing, "My room is downstairs, near the front door, and the kitchen is on the other side of the house."
We reached the end of the hallway, where she stopped and opened a door, motioning toward the staircase beyond it. "I thought you might like this room. It's spacious, with a big window that overlooks the backyard," she said, her smile warm and bright.
"Oh, and you can lock the door," she added, her tone playful but reassuring. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a beautifully polished silver key and placed it in my hand.
I looked at the tiny weighted key, turning it over in my hand. Something about it felt familiar, though the reason eluded me. The fleeting sense of recognition slipped away, leaving only a faint ache in its place. I slipped the key into my pocket and looked up at Em, tears blurring my vision. "Thank you," I whispered, my voice wavering.
I wanted to hug her, to express the gratitude and comfort she stirred in me, but she was faster. She pulled me into a warm, motherly embrace, one that sent memories of my own mother flashing through my mind. The scent of lavender, the soft hum of a lullaby, the way her arms always felt like home. For a moment, I let myself imagine that this was her. That she was here, alive, holding me like she used to.
But the thought was too much. I pulled away, blinking back the tears threatening to spill, and shoved those memories deep into the recesses of my mind. They didn't belong here, not now.
Taking a shaky breath, I turned and ran up the stairs, eager to leave behind the emotions twisting my stomach into knots. Each step felt like a barrier between me and the weight of those feelings, as if running could somehow free me from their grasp.
"Just come downstairs when you feel ready," Em yelled before shutting the door.
I looked around the room to get my bearings. It was spacious, dominated by a large window that framed the backyard. Dust had claimed the vanity, its mirror dulled and streaked with age. I ran my fingers absentmindedly through the layer of dust instead of looking at my reflection. The bed stood awkwardly in the center of the room, its headboard against the window. The mattress was uneven and the metal frame let out faint creaks with the slightest pressure, but it was still an improvement over sleeping on the floor. There was a closet at the other end of the room, but there weren't any hangers to put my clothing on, so I just set my things in the closet.
"I thought you might still want this." I jumped at Allison's voice.
"Oh, yeah, my mother's things." I grabbed the box and placed it on the vanity.
"Do you think you need anything?" Allison asked as she looked around the room with scrutiny.
"Maybe some hangers, but honestly this is perfect," I said, lowering myself onto the bed. It squeaked softly beneath me, but I ignored it. "Thank you, Allison. Really."
She leaned against the doorframe, her arms crossed but her expression soft. "It's not much, but I'm glad you like it. If you think of anything else, just let me know."
I nodded, glancing around the room again. Despite its imperfections, it felt safe, a feeling I hadn't had in a long time. My gaze lingered on the box of my mother's belongings. Curiosity prickled at the edges of my mind, but I hesitated to open it. What if the memories inside were too much?
Allison seemed to notice. "Take your time with that," she said gently. "It's okay to feel whatever comes up."
I gave her a small smile. "Thanks. I'll be fine."
After a moment, she pushed off the doorframe. "Alright. I'll leave you to get settled. Call me if you need anything."
"Got it," I replied. She gave me a final nod walking down the stairs.
The room was quiet now, save for the faint creaks of the house settling. I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding and turned my attention back to the box. My fingers brushed the lid, and a small wave of anticipation and dread washed over me. "One thing at a time," I muttered to myself, pulling my hand away. For now, the box could wait.
I laid down on my bed in an attempt to find sleep. As I stared up at the ceiling, I tried not to think much about my father or what happened to my mother, but the thoughts seeped in regardless. Their weight pressed down on me, relentless and heavy. When I finally managed to drift into sleep, the dreams came as a cruel reminder. Fragments of pain and sorrow blended together in disjointed scenes, each one cutting deeper than the last. I wanted desperately to find myself back with the wolf, the strange comfort it had offered, but all I had were bad memories mixed with bad thoughts.
A voice pulled me out of the restless haze. "Eden! Come on, we need to go before the store closes!" Em's voice carried through the door, sharp and urgent.
I blinked awake, disoriented. My heart pounded as if I had been running, the remnants of my dreams clinging to me like cobwebs. "I'm coming!" I called back, pushing myself upright. My body felt heavy, like I'd been weighed down by the emotions still lingering from sleep.
Dragging myself off the bed, I quickly ran down the stairs. When I opened the door, Em was already waiting at the bottom of the stairs, her keys jingling in her hand.
"You okay?" she asked, her gaze softening as she looked up at me.
"Yeah," I replied, my voice still groggy. "Just a little tired."
"Well, this trip won't take long. Come on, we'll grab what we need and be back in no time." She smiled, her tone light but coaxing. "And Allision told me before she left that you needed coat hangers, I have a box of them in the basement. You can grab them when we get back."
I nodded and followed her down the stairs, the cool evening air greeting us as we stepped outside. The last traces of sunlight clung to the horizon, painting the sky in muted hues of orange and purple. It felt oddly calming, even as I struggled to push away the weight of my dreams.
The car smelled faintly of coffee and pine air freshener. I sat in the passenger seat, the fabric worn smooth from years of use, as Em hummed along to a soft tune on the radio. Outside, the evening stretched into night, the world painted in muted grays and blues. Streetlights flickered to life one by one, their glow catching the occasional stray leaf drifting down the quiet roads.
Em didn't speak at first, letting the hum of the engine fill the silence. I leaned my head against the cool glass of the window, watching the world blur past. Houses, trees, and street signs melded together, their details slipping away as quickly as they appeared. My thoughts began to wander again, unraveling threads of memories I'd tried to keep tied up.
"I know today's been a lot," she said eventually, keeping her eyes on the road. "I just want you to know, you don't have to do anything right now except settle in. No expectations, okay?" Her words surprised me, though I wasn't sure why. Maybe it was the sincerity in her tone, the way it felt like she actually meant it. I nodded, even though she couldn't see me.
"Thanks," I said softly, the word barely above a whisper.
She glanced at me briefly, her smile warm. "Of course."
After our conversation tapered off, Em broke the quiet by singing along to the country music playing on the radio. Her voice was slightly off-key, but I couldn't help but enjoy the way she threw herself into it, belting out the songs with pure enthusiasm. I couldn't help but wonder if my mom would have acted the same way, singing to her favorite songs as we drove to the store to fill our fridge. I tried to picture it, but the memories wouldn't come, as though they were just out of reach.
"I think my mom would have sung like you," I found myself saying. Em glanced at me, offering a sad smile.
"I bet she sounded like an angel," Em replied, patting my thigh gently. "Way better than me."
"You think?" I choked out.
"Yeah." Em's voice softened as she turned the wheel sharply, pulling into the parking lot of an IGA. "I bet she sang you to sleep every night."
"I can't... I can't remember." The words were strangled, escaping me as I swallowed the lump in my throat. "I want to, but I can't."
The car came to a stop, and the silence lingered like a heavy fog between us. Em didn't say anything more, just gave me a look that said she understood. We sat there for a moment, both lost in thoughts too heavy to share, before she cut the engine.
I wiped my eyes quickly, hoping she wouldn't notice, but Em's sharp gaze caught everything. She didn't comment, though, just squeezed my hand for a moment before we got out of the car.
The cold air hit me as we walked through the automatic doors of the store. The usual hum of fluorescent lights and the smell of polished floors filled the space, but everything felt distant, muted somehow. We grabbed the groceries, each item feeling like a small reminder of what I couldn't recall.
The ride back was quieter. Em was lost in her thoughts again, her focus on the road while the radio played softly in the background, filling the silence in a way that made it easier to breathe.
When we pulled into the driveway, the house loomed in front of us, new, unfamiliar, and somehow too big for me to truly grasp. I stared at it for a moment before getting out of the car.
"Thanks, Em," I said quietly, feeling the weight of the day settle on my shoulders. "For everything."
She looked over at me, her gaze soft but steady. "You don't have to thank me," she replied.
We unloaded the groceries in silence, both of us moving efficiently but with a quiet heaviness in the air. I helped Em carry the bags into the house, the sound of plastic crinkling beneath our hands as we brought everything inside. Each trip felt like a small step toward settling in, though the space around me still felt distant, unclaimed.
Once the last bag was in the kitchen, I paused, taking in the unfamiliar layout of the room. The bright lights, the countertops that still felt out of place beneath my hands, the space waiting to be filled. Em turned to me, offering a small smile as she set down the last of the bags.
"We'll make it feel like home," she said, almost to herself.
I nodded, but the weight of the unknown still lingered. The house was just a house for now. But maybe, over time, it could become something more.
And just like that, the first day in this house came to an end.