Sometimes I have very dark thoughts about my mother—thoughts
my mind that this woman always called Nana dramatic yet can't see
"Addie, you're being ridiculous," Mom says through the speaker on
an effort to see her once ayear. And those visits are far more
I thumpmy head against the headrest, rolling my eyes upward and
her own flair for the dramatics.
My mother is a bitch. Plain and simple. She's always had a chip on
Sometimes, I'm not always sane.
After that, I'm running on fumes and have no desire to put in any
mean you have to actually live in it. It's old and would be doing
How did I manage to get ketchup up there?
my phone. I glare at it in response, refusing to argue with her. When
"You'll be living an hour from us! That will be incredibly
patience only lasts an entire sixty seconds talking to my mother.
retort dryly.
inconvenient for you to come visit us, won't it?"
"Just because your grandparents gave you the house doesn't
I have nothing to say, she sighs loudly. I wrinkle my nose. It blows
everyone in that city a favor if it were torn down."
painful.
no sane daughter should ever have.
trying to find patience weaved into the stained roof of my car.
Pretty sure mygynecologist is an hour away, too, but I still make
"Nope," I reply, popping the P. I'm over this conversation. My
Oh, how will I ever survive?
her shoulder, and for the life of me, I can't figure out why.
"And just because youdon't like it, doesn't mean I can't live in it," I
more effort to keep the conversation
If it's not one thing, it's the other. She always manages to find
childhood in this house. It wasn't until I left for college that Mom
"Yes?"
plunged out of Nana's vagina. I don't know why her personality never
Nana died about a year ago, gifting me the house in her will, but
A snarl overtakes my face, fury tearing throughout my chest. "Hey,
Nana always had a positive, sunny outlook on life, viewing the
Mom sighs again through the phone. "I just wish you had more
just because Mom didn't get along with Nana.
settling in one place.
running alongside the ghosts in the halls and baking cookies with
I never understood the tension between them, but as I got older
And when it did, I decided to travel around the country, never really
house my grandparents gave to me. I grew up in Parsons Manor,
and looking at life like her glasses got smashed whenshe was
insults for what they were, it made sense.
ambition in life, instead of staying in the town you grew up in,
house like your grandmother did. I don't want you to become
developed past that of a porcupine—she was never raised to be a
world through rose-colored glasses. She was always smiling and
Parsons Manor. She could barely tolerate me, so I spent most of my
Growing up, my mom and dad had a house only a mile away from
"Fuck off."
sweetie. Do something more with your life than waste away in that
with her until I got back on my feet and my writing career took off.
my grief hindered me from moving into Parsons Manor. Until now.
moved out of town an hour away. When I quit college, I moved in
something to complain about. This time, it's my choice to live in the
humming, while Mom is cursed with a perpetual scowl on her face
Nana. Ihave fond memories here—memories I refuse to let go of
prickly bitch.
worthless like her."
Mom?"
and started to comprehend Mom's snarkiness and underhanded
I hang up the phone, angrilysmashing my finger into thescreen
until I hear the tellta
How dare she speak of her own mother that way when she was
the black roof spearing through the gloomy clouds and looming over
And I fucking love it.
turning to look out my side window. Said house stands tall, the tip of
portion of the cliff. It looks exactly as it did from my childhood, and it
way she treats me, that's for damn sure.
nothing but loved and cherished? Nana certainly didn't treat her the
new again with a bit of TLC. Hundreds of vines crawl up all sides of
flowers during the spring season. Hyacinths, primroses, violas, and
ostracized from civilization. The whole area has a menacing,
The lawn is long overdue for a haircut, the blades of grass nearly
gives me no less of a thrill to peer into the infinite blackness.
sorrowful aura.
The house has begun to decay, but it can be fixed up to look like
making you feel like you're well and truly alone.
mowed.
the vastly wooded area as if to say you shall fear me. Peering over
bet plenty of snakes have settled in nicely since it's last been
I shiver, delighting in the ominous feeling radiating from this small
Sometimes, it feels like you're on an entirely different planet,
the structure, climbing towards the gargoyles stationed on the roof
And in autumn, sunflowers would be crawling up the sides of the
my shoulder, the dense thicket of trees are no more inviting—their
chipping like cheap nail polish. I'll have to hire someone to give the
a mile long driveway stretching through a heavily wooded area. The
starting to peel away, and the black paint around the windows is
I ripa page from Mom's book and let loose a melodramatic sigh,
shadows crawling from the overgrowth with outstretched claws.
Nana used to offset the manor's dark shade with blooms of colorful
as tall as me, and the three acres of clearing bursting with weeds. I
on either side of the manor. The black siding is fading to a gray and
Parsons Manor is stationed on a cliffside overlooking the Bay with
congregation of trees separates this house from the rest of the world,
large front porch a facelift since it's starting to sag on one side.
rhododendron.
house, the bright yellows and oranges in the petals a beautifulcontrast against the black siding.
looks like a scene out of a horror film. I suck my bottom lip between
The attic.
season calls for it. This time, I'll plant strawberries, lettuce, and herbs
I can't explain why, but I do.
shaking my body out like a wet dog.
my teeth, unable to stop the smile from forming on my face.
Fuck what my mother says. I'm living here. I'm a successful writer
and have the freedom to live anywhere. So, what if I decide to live in
as well.
Coupled with the looming storm in the background, Parsons Manor
be able to move those curtains, but yet I don't doubt what I saw.
a place that means a lot to me? That doesn't make me a lowlife for
purse and step out of my car, inhaling the scent of fresh rain. It turns
give me even a millimeter. I jimmy the key, wrestling with it until the
The clouds yawn, and rain spills from their mouths. I grab my
staying in my hometown. I travel enough with book tours and
Last time I checked, there's no central air up there. Nothing should
what the fuck I want, and I don't give a shit what anyone else thinks
I can plant a garden around the front of the house again when the
I'm deep in my musings when my eyes snag on movement from
house.
about it.
from a light sprinkle to a torrential downpour in a matter of seconds. I
under the blankets with a mug of tea and a book while listening to
Especially mommy dearest.
the rain fall.
I slide the key into the lock and turn it. But it's stuck, refusing to
mechanism finally turns and I'm able to unlock the door.
above. Curtains flutter in the lone window at the very top of the
bolt up the front porch steps, flinging drops of water off my arms and
I love that.
conferences; settling down in a house won't change that. I know
I love storms—I just don't like to be in them. I'd prefer to cuddle up
Guess I'm gonna have to fix that soon, too.
A chilling draft welcomes me as I open the door. I shiver from the
Manor. Placed right in front of it is a red velvet rocking chair with a
crystals dangling from the tips. It's always been Nana's most prized
The black and white checkered floors lead directly to the black
look around, nostalgia hitting me straight in the gut. Dust coats every
exactly how I last saw it, right before Nana died last year.
golden curtains.
house, providing a beautiful view of the forest beyond Parsons
the windows, gradually fading as the sun disappears behind gray
storm clouds.
I look up and smile when I see the black ribbed ceiling, made up of
possession.
The checkered tiling extendsinto the kitchen with beautiful black
The living area is to the left of the staircase. I purse mylips and
said her mother would always do the same.
hundreds of thin, long piecesof wood. A grand chandelieris hanging
wood. Nana used to fill it with lilies, but now it only collects dust and
The interior of the house is cast in shadows. Dim light shines through
matching stool. Nana used tosit there and watch the rain, and she
stained cabinets and marblecountertops. A massive island sits in
mixture of freezing rain still wet on my skin and the cold, stale air.
I feel as if I should start my story with "it was a dark stormy night..."
the far left wall, with red velvet couches squared around it. An ornate
monstrosity of the home could swallow you whole.
A large black stone fireplace is in the center of the living room on
grand staircase—large enough to fit a piano through sideways—and
The walls are covered in black paisley wallpaper, offset by heavy
bug carcasses.
over my head, golden steel warped in an intricate design with
One of my favorite parts is the large bay window at the front of the
flow offinto the living room. My boots squeak against the tiles as I
wooden coffeetable sits in the middle, an empty vase atop the dark
surface, and the smell of mothballs is overpowering, but it looks
venture further inside.
This floor is primarily an open concept, making it feel like the
the middle with black barstools lining one side. Grandpa and I used to sit there andwatch Nana cook, enjoying her hummingto herself
that, she still had old people's taste.
I mean, really, why do those white throw pillows have a border of
body left for a little while.
when dealing with an old house.
home that's housed my heart since I could remember, even if my
lace around them and a weird, embroidered bouquet of flowers in the
as she whipped up delicious meals.
Then I walk over to the thermostat, the number causing another
dead air.
Shaking awaythe memories, I rush over to a tall lampby the
small building. This local bookstore wasn't built for a large number of
temperature is set to seventy-four. I don't mind cooler temperatures,
"Are you ready?" my personal assistant asks from beside me. I
but I'd prefer it if my nipples didn't cut through all of my clothing.
passed down through the generations. Nana used to say that she
Sixty-two goddamn degrees.
buttery soft glow emits from the bulb. A few days ago, I had called to
get the utilitiesturned on in my name, but you can never be too sure
I sigh.
mic to me, her attention ensnared on the people still filtering into the
middle? That's not cute. That's ugly.
liked it best when she was the brightest thing in the room. Despite
how my great-grandparents decorated the house, and the taste has
And then I smile, basking in the gothic glory of Parsons Manor. It's
I turn back around and face a home that's both old and new—a
"Well, Nana, I came back. Just like you wanted," I whisper to the
rocking chair and flick on thelight. I release a sigh of relief when a
shiver to wrack my body.
I press my thumb into the up arrow and don't stop until the
glance over at Marietta, noting how she's absently holding out the
people, but somehow, they're making it work anyway.Hordes of people are piling into the cramped space, converging in
the crowd, silently counting in my head. I lose count after thirty.
handle other matters, shooting me a quick good luck. She's
hands with a beaming smile on her freckled face.
smile after being asked a question while my brain processes the fact
I smile wide and gently take the book.
of representing a social pariah.
secondhand embarrassment with me. Guess it's one of the downfalls
a uniform line, and waiting for the signing to start. My eyesrove over
thumping too loud in my ears.
one getting embarrassed.
mine. She gives a bit of an awkward laugh, her fingers drifting over
It's not that I'm notexcited, I just tend to get incredibly awkward
"It's awesome to meet you, too," I return. "And hey, Team
incredibly excited to meet you all. Everyone ready?!" I ask, forcing
"Oh my god, it's so awesome to meet you!" she exclaims, nearly
I settle down inmy chair and ready my sharpie. Marietta runs off to
all for coming. I appreciate each and every one of you, and I'm
I love my readers, so I power through it.
"Yep," I say. I grab the mic, and after catching everyone's attention,
interactions. I'm the type to stare dead into your face with a frozen
the murmurs fade to silence. Dozens of eyeballs bore into me,
during book signings. I'm not a natural when it comesto social
creating a flush all the way to my cheeks. It makes my skin crawl, but
shoving the book in my face. Totally a me move.
that I didn't even hear the question. It's usually because my heart is
Freckles," I tack on, waving my forefinger between her face and
The first reader approaches me, my book The Wanderer, in her
witnessed my mishaps with readers and has the tendency to get
a weird conversation about skin conditions.
excitement into my tone.
her cheeks. "What's your name?" I rush out, before we get stuck on
"Before we start, I just wanted to take a quick second to thank you
Come back, Marietta. It's so much more fun when I'm not the only
Geez, Addie, what if she hates her freckles? Dumbass."Megan," she replies, and then spells the name out forme. My
rise, and I feel the apples of my cheeks heating to a bright red.
feeling only intensifies until it feels like bees are buzzing beneath the
surface of my skin while a torch is being held to my flesh. It's… it's
"Sorry," I mutter, finishing off my signature. I reach over and snag a
because everyone is staring at me.
The reader beams at me, mistake already forgotten, and scurries
I try to ignore it, and give thenext reader a big ass smile, but the
appreciation note. My signature is sloppy, but that pretty much
The crowd shrouds the majority of his body, only bits of his face
His eyes. Oneso dark and bottomless, it feels like staring into a
My gaze hooks on a lone person standing in the very back. A man.
hand trembles as I carefully write out her name and a quick
well. And the other, an ice blue so light, it's nearly white,reminding
When athroat clears, I jump, snatching my eyes away and looking
reader, while the other half is on the crowd. My eyes subtly sweep
Half of my attention is on the book I'm signing and the gushing
As the next reader approaches, pressure settles on my face.
my discomfort without making it obvious.
discolored eye, as if it didn't already demand attention.
bookmark, sign that too, and tuck it in the book as an apology.
represents the entirety of my existence.
I hand the book back and thank her with a genuine smile.
peeking through the gaps between people's heads. Butwhat I do
creating a big black ink dot.
me of a husky's eyes. A scar slashes straight down through the
the expanse of the bookstore, attempting to scope out thesource of
see has my hand stilling, mid-write.
Someone is staring at me. But that's a fucking stupid thought
unlike anything I've felt before. The hairs on the back of my neck
back tothe book. My sharpie has been resting in the same spot,
off with her book. When I look back to find the man, he's gone."Addie, you need to get laid."
blueberry martini as deeply as my mouth will allow. Daya, my best
Daya's eyes, searching the restaurant for the waitress so I can order
I don't say thisout loud because I can bet my left ass cheek that
friend, eyes me, entirely unimpressed and impatient based on the
Daya gives me a droll look."You've had plenty of opportunities.
I think I need a bigger mouth. More alcohol would fit in it.
"Or what?" I taunt.
sooner I can avoid this conversation some more.
"Adeline Reilly. Give me. Your. Fucking. Phone."
She flips out an expectant hand. "Give me your phone."
Our eyes meet, a beat passes, and we both burst into laughter.
faceat one o'clock in the morning. I'm wearing the same sweatpants
"I suck at getting laid, too, apparently," I say after our laughing
her follow-up response would be to use it for a bigger dick instead.
"Don't deflect, bitch. You suck at it."
another martini. The faster I have the straw in my mouth again, the
quirk of her brow.
the plastic from my lips. I've reached the bottom of the glass a solid
You just don't take them. You're a hot twenty-six-year-old woman
with freckles, a great pair of tits, and an ass to die for. The men are
out here waiting."
crotch, and no, I don't want to fucking come over.
When Icontinue sucking on the straw, she reaches over and rips
me. All I get is what are you wearingand wanna come over, winky
"Whoa, personal space," I mumble, setting the glass down. I avoid
I've been wearing the past week, there's a mysterious stain on my
I shrug, deflecting again. Daya isn't exactly wrong—at least about
My eyes widen. "Fuck, no."
straw. It's the most action my mouth has gotten in a year now.
fifteen seconds ago and have just been sucking air through the
In response, I wrap my lips around my straw and slurp my
having options. I'm just not interested in any of them. They all bore
"Or I will throwmyself across the table, embarrass the absolute
calms.
shit out of you, and get my way anyways."My eyes finally catch on our waitress and I flag her down.
how horny I am and touch myself every night to the thought of him.
Her sage green eyes are illuminated with a type of evilness you
third martini and feeling a tad adventurous right about now.
make a dumpster look like Mr. Clean's house.
rushes off again.
would only find in Satan's Bible. If I did a little digging, I'm sure I'd
find her picture somewherein there, too. A bombshellwith dark
around them to nearly blur.
food, when really my best friend just has one up her ass right now.
"I wouldn't even say that!" I complain. "That doesn't even sound
to air out and do something crazy like throwing a temper tantrum in
I procrastinate a little bit longer, asking the waitress what drink she
Sigh.
Her thumbs go into turbo speed, causing the golden rings wrapped
She glances up, locks my phone, and hands it back a few seconds
typing away, the mischievous glimmer in her eye growing brighter.
brown skin, pin-straight black hair, and a gold hoop in her nose.
Not texted. Sexted.
messages. I groan aloud once more when I see she sexted Greyson.
I hand the phone over, slapping it in Daya's stilloutstretched hand
later. Immediately, I unlock it again and start searching through my
"Who are you texting?" I groan, nearly stomping my feet like a
cock," I read aloud dryly. That's not even all of it. The rest goes into
child. I refrain, but come close to allowing a little of my social anxiety
Desperately. She rushes over, probably thinking I found a hair in my
She's probably an evil succubus or something.
I growl and give her the filthiest look I can manage. My face would
strawberry martini in favor of the green apple, and the waitress
"Come over tonight and lick my pussy. I've been craving your huge
the middle of the restaurant. It probably doesn't help that I'm on my
prefers. I'd look through the drink menu a second time if it weren't
rude to keep her waiting when she has other tables. So alas, I pick a
extra firm because I hate her. She smiles triumphantly and starts
like me, you bitch."Daya cackles, the teeny little gap between her front teeth on full
spiderwebs they're crawling with. The rest of the hallway is
pictures from generations in between. I feel like they're watching me,
Only a few of the lights work, and they just serve to illuminate the
didn't cancel on Greyson likeI wanted to. Like I wantto. I regret that
humping me against the wall. My tailbone is going to be bruised in
contemplating googling 1000 Ways to Die's contact information so I
shadowed entirely, and I'm just waiting for the demon from The
decision.
scorn and disappointment in their eyes as they witness their
at 8.
descendant about to get railed right in front of them.
GREYSON: About time u came to your senses, baby. Be over
groaning when he rolls his dick into the apex of my thighs.
Deciding I needed to get over myself and blow off some steam, I
can send them a new story.
"I don't know if I've ever told you this, but I really fucking hate you,"
I really do hate her.
up the message.
display.
phone so she can see what he said. I jerk it out of her reach and pull
the morning. I roll my eyes when he slurps at my neck again,
My phone pings. Daya is nearly bouncing in her seat while I'm
I grumble, giving her another scowl.
Grudge to come crawling out so I have an excuse to run.
"Read it," she demands, her grabby hands already reaching for my
"Fuck, Addie, I've missed you," Greyson breathes into my neck,
Currently, he has me pinned against the wall in my creepy hallway.
Old fashioned sconces line the blood red walls, with dozens of family
She smiles and slurps on her drink. "I love you too, baby girl."
I would definitely trip Greysonon the way out at this point, and not
one inch of me is ashamed.
He murmurs some more dirtythings into my ear while I inspect the
stained with a blush. The curse of being a redhead, I suppose.
stillness of the night closing in on the manor.
His copper hair is mussed from my hands, and his paleskin is
pounding in my chest. Our eyes meet in stunned silence. Someone
spider from its web, and put it down the back of Greyson's shirt.
"No," I breathe. I quickly tugmy shirt back on—backwards—and
Greyson walks up beside me and looks over at mewith a
department. He's hot as sin, has a beautiful body and a killer smile.
Internally, I cringe. Externally…I cringe. I try to play it off by jerking
and is staring intensely at my tits.
Too bad he can't fuck and is a complete and utter douchebag.
my shirt over my head. He has the attention span of a beagle. And
Greyson has everything else going for him in the looks
Just when I actually go to doit, he rears back, panting from all the
Daya was right about that, too. I do have great tits.
smacked him if he actually ripped it—but he freezes when loud
solo French kissing he's been doing with my throat. It's like he was
rush down the creaky steps.Taking a moment to check outside the
sconce hanging above our heads. Greyson said in passing once that
is pounding on my front door, and they don't sound too nice.
window next to the door, I see the front porch is vacant. My brow
furrows. Letting the curtain fall, I stand in front of thedoor, the
side, seemingly frustrated by the interruption.
he's scared of spiders. I wonder if I can discreetly reach up, pluck a
"Are you expecting someone?" he asks, his hand dropping to his
just like I suspected, he's already forgotten about my little blunder
The sound is so sudden, so violently loud that I gasp, my heart
That would light a fire under his ass to get out of here, andhe'd
He reaches up to tear the bra from my body—I probably would've
"Let's take this to the bedroom. I need to be inside of you now."
waiting for my neck to lick him back or something.
banging interrupts us from the main floor.
probably be too embarrassed to talk to me again. Win, win.
confused expression.Uh, you gonna answer that?" he asks dumbly, pointing at the door
It's the same feeling I get when I watch a scary movie. It begins with
behind me. I don't notice he's in the middle of undressing as he
look down the side of the house. No one.
walks down thehallway until he steps into my room after me. When I
There's someone watching me. I can feel it. I'm as sure of it as I
But instead, Greyson stares at me expectantly. And a little like I'm
And as much as I love horrorfilms, I have no interest in starring in
have noway of knowing with it being so dark. Not unless I go out
one.
as if I didn't know it was right in front of me. I almost thank him for
racing across my skin. Goosebumps rise as I tuck my hair behind my
there and search myself.
am about the existence of gravity.
Again, no one is there. I step out onto the porch, the rotting
No one on the other side of the house, either.
aggressive. Angry. Like someone had pounded on the door with all
cinnamon hair, the strands tickling my face and sending shivers
Greyson joins me on the porch, his own eyes scanning the trees.
the beat of my heart, then a heavy weight settles deep in my
the directions just to be an ass, but refrain. Something about that
woods and a hundred-foot drop into the water.
a violent sound. Especially when we're surrounded by a mile of thick
A real man would offer to open the door for me after hearing such
stupid. Huffing, I unlock the door and whip it open.
stomach, eventually sinking to my core. I shift, not entirely
Chills run down my spine, accompanied by a burst of adrenaline.
There could easily be someone watching me in the woods, but I
knock has my instincts blaring Code Red. The knock sounded
comfortable with the feeling right now.
Huffing, I rush back into the house and up the steps. Greyson trails
floorboards groaning beneath my weight. Cold wind stirs my
ears and walk over to one end of the porch. Leaning over the rail, I
their strength.
turn, he's stark naked."Seriously?" I bite out. What a fucking idiot. Someone just banged
door, and it was kind of scary. I'm not in the mood to have sex right
What happened to chivalry? I would think a normal man would ask
"You serious?" he questions, anger sparking in his brown eyes.
and turns to me.
seethes, pointing a finger at me.
now."
He storms out of my room, snatching up articles of clothing as he
haphazardly in my hallway.
he'd have a better chance of finding someone to take him home.
goes. When he gets about halfway down the long hallway, he stops
flying into the drywall.
"You're such a bitch, Addie. All you do is give me blue balls and
"And you're an asshole. Get the fuck out of my house, Greyson."
stroke game. The dude givesfish a run for their money, the way he
"Goddammit, Addie," he snaps, angrily swiping up a sock and
single sock because the rest of his clothes are still thrown
brimming with fury. He turns, cocks his arm back and sends his fist
You know, read the fucking room.
putting it on. He looks like an idiot—completely naked save for a
I'm sickof it. I'm done with you and this creepy fucking house," he
They're a shitty color, just like his shitty personality and even shittier
neck like one would slurp jello out of a container.
if I'm okay. Feel out how I'm feeling. Maybe try to make sure I'm nice
"Yes, I'm serious," I say with exasperation.
A gasp is ripped from my throat when half of his arm disappears,
flops when he fucks. Might as well lay out naked in the fish market—
he's immediately ready to pick up where he left off. Slurping on my
and relaxed before sticking their dick inside me.
That person is not going to be me.
on my door like the wood personally put a splinter in their ass, and
"What?" he asks incredulously, splaying his arms out to his sides.
"Did younot just hear what I heard? Someone was banging on my
His eyes widen with shock first, and then narrow into thin slits,
my mouth parting in both shock and disbelief."Since I'm not getting yours, thought I'd create my own hole to get
an arm full of clothes, he storms off.
into tonight. Fix that, bitch," he spits. Still sporting only one sock and
I hope the mysterious personis still out there. Let the asshole get
"You dick!" I rage, stomping towards the large hole in my wall he
The front door slams a minute later from below.
murdered wearing a single sock.
just created.