Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 78142 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78142 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Fuck.
That’s how I think about my childhood.
There’s before.
And there’s after.
“Here you go,” my Uber driver says.
“Thanks.”
I get out of the car and stand in front of the house where I spent the first eight years of my childhood.
Looks the same, except that whoever lives there now doesn’t care about the front yard the way my father did. The grass is more brown than green.
The shrubs are the same, though much bigger now. The maple tree growing in front is huge, and the leaves have turned to gold and red.
I draw in a deep breath and walk to the front door.
I hate doorbells, so I knock.
A barking dog peeks its head through the window on the side of the door.
“Jacob, sit,” a woman’s voice says. Then she opens the door. She’s young, around my age, maybe even a little younger. Pretty, but not beautiful. Her mousy hair is piled on top of her head in a messy bun, and she’s dressed for comfort, not style. “Yes?”
I blink for a few seconds, unsure of what to say. Of course someone else lives here now. My parents wouldn’t want to live in the house where their daughter was injured and then abducted. Where their family was irreparably broken. This whole trip was for nothing.
Or was it?
“Hi, I’m sorry to bother you, ma’am. But…I grew up in this house. I know it’s a lot to ask, but I was wondering if I could come in and look around.”
“Did you?” She looks me up and down. “My husband and I just bought this house a couple of months ago.”
“You did? From the Locke family?”
She shakes her head. “No, from the Garcia family.” She sticks her hand out. “My name is Lily Reinhart.”
I shake her hand. “I’m Dra…ven. Draven Sanders.”
Telling her my name is Locke might not be the best thing, and most people look at you sideways when you tell them your name is Dragon.
“It’s nice to meet you, Draven.” She gestures inside the house. “Sure. Come in. Pardon the mess.”
“Oh, no worries. I last lived here when I was nine, and I just happen to be in town.”
A child screams from the kitchen.
Lily widens her eyes. “Excuse me for a minute. She’s hungry.”
I peek into the small kitchen. A brown-haired baby sits in a highchair, and when she sees me, I smile at her.
She smiles back.
“She’s adorable,” I say.
“Yes, our little angel loves people.” Lily leans down and gives the child a kiss on the cheek. “She’ll smile at anyone. This is Draven, sweetheart.”
She bangs her fists on the tray of her highchair and smiles again.
Lily puts some Cheerios on the tray, and the baby eagerly gobbles them up.
“Go ahead and look around,” Lily says. “I need to get her fed.”
“Yeah, of course.” I nod. “And thanks for letting me in, though I think all I really need to look at is the backyard. It was a happy place for me when I was little.”
“Oh, sure. Go on out.” She points to the screen door that leads to the back.
Once I got in here, I knew I couldn’t look at my bedroom, where I had been when someone came through a window and hurt my baby sister. I sure as hell couldn’t look at Griffin’s bedroom, where I picked up a knife covered in my sister’s blood. Where my parents found me and thought the worst of me.
Those assholes didn’t believe me then, and they won’t believe me now. Why the hell did I come here again? What if my parents still lived here? What exactly did I think I’d say to them?
“Jacob’s out there,” Lily continues, “but he won’t hurt a fly. He’ll probably bug you to death for pets.”
“Not a problem. I love dogs.” I force a smile. “And thank you again. I’ll just let myself out of the gate when I’m finished.”
As I walk out onto the concrete slab outside the sliding glass doors, I marvel at how trusting this woman is. I don’t mean anyone any harm, but she has no idea who I am. I’m dressed fairly nicely in dark jeans and a button-down shirt, my long hair tied behind my back in a band, so I guess she doesn’t think I look like any kind of threat.
The outside is much like I remember it, and in my mind, I see the ring toss and the cornhole set. The old shed is still there, but its metal doors are rusted.
There’s a patio table on the old slab rather than the plastic lawn chairs that were there when my family lived here.
Again in my mind’s eye, I can see Griffin in her bouncer, toddling along on the slab of concrete. I see her squinting her eyes and grimacing from baby brain freeze when I gave her a bite of my popsicle.