Unraveling You 03 Awakening You (5 page)

 

A light drizzle of rain sprinkles from the clouds as I park the car in front of the house that was the last address listed for Sadie.

 

The house is boarded up and painted with jagged circular symbols that match the tattoo on my ribs. The home resembles most of the surrounding structures on the street, so the entire area is extremely creepy. In a strange way, the place reminds me of the home I grew up in and how damn lucky I am to be living where I am now.

 

I know it isn’t the best thing to be here, but I can’t help myself. Something about the place terrifies me yet draws me to it.

 

I’ve been making the detour for the last month. Every time I stop by, I contemplate going inside and looking around in the hope that I get a better understanding of what Sadie went through while she was living here. But I’ve never gotten the balls to even get out of the car.

 

I remain in the car, staring at the peeling paint, wondering if it was put there after Sadie was kidnapped or if they did it beforehand. The detective said our cases are similar, and they stalked her first before taking her, but I still don’t know exactly how it happened.

 

I don’t know

 

Anything

 

About her

 

Other than my heart aches for her.

 

A year younger than me, Sadie should be a junior in high school, having fun, going to parties like I used to before I got put on lockdown. I haven’t seen her since we were removed from that house four years ago, and I don’t know what her life has been like since then. Looking at the home to the side of me, I’m guessing it hasn’t been great.

 

I gawk at the house for ten minutes straight before I put the car in drive and start to pull away.

 

“I promise I won’t let anything happen to you,” I whisper to Sadie from across the room.

 

“How? You’re tied up, too,” she cries through the darkness, her voice weak.

 

Chains, chains, chains bite at my flesh.

 

Peel back the skin, reveal what’s inside.

 

Look at me raw, see the truth in my eyes.

 

“I don’t know how, but I will, Sadie. I swear.”

 

Broken promises,

 

Cracked and ruptured.

 

Left behind,

 

Like dust on the floor.

 

I’m sorry I lied.

 

I slam on the brakes and strangle the steering wheel as the memory crawls under my skin. Fueled with the need to see what’s hidden in the house, to understand just how badly I let my sister down, I shove the car back into park, fling the door open, and climb out.

 

Raindrops splatter across my face and drip from my hair as I hike up the lopsided driveway. When I reach the side door of the house, I glance around to make sure no one is around before opening it.

 

The smell of mold and rot engulfs my nostrils as I step over the threshold and inside what looks like a kitchen. The floorboards groan under my boots as I inch my way into the darkness.

 

Sticking my hand into my pocket, I remove my phone and turn on the flashlight app to get a better look around.

 

The cupboards are hanging crooked on the walls, the countertops are torn up, and shards of glass cover the floor.

 

I carefully maneuver my way through the kitchen and into the living room, the atmosphere growing darker as the outside world slips away from me. To my right is a stairway, but most of the steps are missing. I veer in the opposite direction toward a closed door tucked behind a raised wall. Painted across the wall are words that are way too familiar:
Running away is like running in circles. You can’t escape once we’ve found your soul, and soon, you’ll end up back in the same place.

 

A cold shiver courses through me. I heard those words whispered during the weeks I was trapped.

 

Panicking, I turn away, but stop mid-turn.

 

No. I need to go through with this.

 

Wheeling back around, I inch toward the door, noticing an
S
carved in the wood right above the doorknob.

 

No, not Sadie.

 

My phone buzzes a few times, but I ignore it, needing to go through with this. I wrap my fingers around the metal knob and, with a deep breath, push open the door.

 

The stench of the room smothers the air from my lungs, heavy and weighted like death. I cough, covering my mouth with my arm as I glance around the small room with caved in walls and a rotting floor. In the middle of the mess is the metal frame of a bed. I can almost picture my sister sitting on it day in and day out, waiting to be saved, but no one ever shows up, and soon she’s taken away to a far worse life than even this.

 

Tears sting my eyes. I know it isn’t a memory, but thinking about what she must have gone through—is still going through—aches deep inside me like searing hot metal against my bones.

 

As I veer toward a panic attack, I spin on my heels and rush out of the house. By the time I burst back into the rain, I’m quivering from head to toe as fear pulsates through me. I run down the driveway toward my car, needing to get the hell out of here. Rain pours from the sky and soaks through my clothes as my boots splash through the puddles.

 

“Excuse me. Do you live here?” A woman wearing a bright red raincoat with the hood pulled over her head is suddenly at the end of the driveway.

 

I slam to a stop and hurry and wipe my eyes with my sleeve, trying to catch my breath. “No . . . I was just . . . I knocked on the door, but no one answered,” I lie, unsure of what else to say.

 

She glances at the home then at me. “You know it’s vacant, right?”

 

“I figured that out, yes.” As casually as I can, I move to the right to swing around her, knowing if I stand near that house for too long, I’ll lose my shit.

 

“Didn’t the boarded up windows and spray paint kind of give that away?” she asks, sidestepping and blocking my path.

 

Red flags pop up everywhere.

 

My eyelashes flutter against the rainstorm as I skim her over. She’s medium height, a little on the thin side, and is wearing black rain boots. Her hood is pulled so low I can hardly see her face, but her voice sounds gruff, like a heavy smoker.

 

Do I know that voice? Or am I just being paranoid?

 

Her hair isn’t red like blood, red like the woman who always wanted to touch me. That’s the only sense of comfort I have at the moment, but hair dye can easily fix that.

 

I duck my head to get a better look at her, but she steps back, stuffing her hands into her pockets.

 

“You better be careful. This place isn’t safe.” She spins on her heels and runs down the sidewalk away from me.

 

“Hey!” I call out, hurrying after her.

 

I don’t know why, but I have this crazy feeling that she might know something.

 

She picks up her speed as she nears the end of the block. I bring my pace from a jog to a sprint as she makes a left and disappears behind a fence. By the time I reach the corner, she’s gone.

 

“Shit!” I curse, kicking a street sign.

 

“Ayden.”

 

I freeze then turn around, shielding my eyes as I squint through the rain at Lila standing a few feet away from me, wearing her coat and carrying an umbrella.

 

“I . . . Why are you . . . ?” I look around the street and spot a maroon SUV parked at the entrance of the neighborhood, the same car I thought was following me. “What’s going on?”

 

“Shouldn’t I be asking you the same question?” She shakes her head with dismay. “Get in the car. We need to talk.”

 

I look back in the direction the woman vanished. “There was someone here, talking to me. She seemed like she was warning me about something.”

 

Lila leans forward and peers down the street while positioning the umbrella over both of our heads.

 

“They’re not there anymore,” I explain. “But it was a woman, and—I don’t know—I have a bad feeling about her.”

 

She frowns as she looks back at me. “This entire place is one bad feeling. Now get in the car so you can explain to me what the hell you were thinking coming here.”

 

The walk back to the car is painfully slow and quiet. By the time we climb inside, the SUV is pulling away, and the rain has slowed down.

 

“Who is that?” I ask, pointing at the vehicle.

 

“That was an undercover detective,” she says, slamming the car door.

 

“What?” Suddenly, their little not-being-alone speech makes much more sense. “Why is he following me?”

 

“Well, for starters, we want to make sure you’re safe. And secondly, because Dr. Gardingdale informed us that you’ve been late to the last eight sessions.”

 

“You could have just asked me what I was doing.”

 

She elevates her brows at me accusingly. “Every time we ask you about anything, you tell us you’re fine. Plus, you tracked down this place”—she nods her head at the house—“all by yourself. You searched for your sister’s address for months, and Lyric was the only one you ever told. So, how could I possibly know you’d tell us the truth if I asked?”

 

Okay, she has a point.

 

“We needed to find out where you were going since you won’t ever tell us anything.” She tosses the umbrella into the backseat, and then her eyes narrow at me. “I hate being this kind of mom—the one who gets angry at the children—but seriously, what the hell were you thinking, coming here by yourself?”

 

“The police investigated this place after Sadie was taken,” I remind her as I rev up the engine and flip on the wipers. “They didn’t find anything suspicious other than the paint on the outside and inside.”

 

“Other than the paint.” She gapes at me. “Ayden, that paint all over the house matches that mark on your side, the one put on you against your will. That’s not a little thing.”

 

“I know.” I lose my voice as guilt creeps up inside me for upsetting her. “But I just wanted to see for myself.”

 

Her expression slightly softens. “I understand that you want to know what’s going on—we all do—but you can’t go around looking for stuff on your own. Not after what’s been going on and that note . . .” She trails off, shaking her head.

 

I flop my head back against the headrest. “I get that I fucked up, but I feel like I’m losing my damn mind. Every day, I wake up, worried something’s going to happen to me. Or worse, the police will knock on our door again, only this time, they’ll be there to tell me my sister’s been found dead.”

 

She’s quiet for a while, probably trying to figure out what the hell to say to my out of the blue confession.

 

“I get that it’s hard.” She gently places a hand on my arm, and for once, I don’t flinch. “But wandering off by yourself isn’t going to help. You need to let the police do their job and focus on yourself and getting better. Talking like this—telling me how you feel—that’s a start. I’ve never heard you be so open.”

 

“I think I’m just getting tired of keeping everything locked in all the time.” I shut my eyes. “It’s hard just to focus on myself when it feels like anyone could be them. Like that woman I just saw.”

 

“What did she say to you exactly?” she asks, cranking up the heat. I recap the last five minutes to her, and she frowns when I’m finished.

 

“Honestly, I’m not that worried. This area is very sketchy, and it could have easily been a nervous drug dealer or something. But I’ll go let the detective know about her, and maybe they can track her down.”

 

I draw the seatbelt strap over my shoulder. “How long have I been followed?”

 

“Only since the note.”

 

“How long am I going to be followed?”

 

“Until we know you’re safe.” She nods as she sticks her hand into her coat pocket and retrieves her phone. “Besides, they’re hoping the next time they try to do something, they’ll catch them in the act.”

 

“So, they’re watching me all the time.”

 

“For the most part.” She gives me a sidelong glance. “So no more running off to dangerous places.” She reaches for the door handle. “Now, go straight to your appointment and then home. Nowhere else. Don’t go looking for that woman. Let the police handle it.”

 

“All right,” I reply, because I don’t really have any other choice.

 

“Thank you for making this easy.” She hops out into the now sprinkling rain.

 

“Wait. How did you get here?” I ask, leaning over the console.

 

“The detective called me the moment he figured out where you were going.” She lowers her head to look at me. “When I got the call, I hopped in my car and drove as crazy as Ella to get here.”

 

“Where’s your car?”

 

She points diagonally across the street, and I easily spot the back end of her silver Mercedes.

 

“Oh.” Through the rain and the distraction of the woman, I must have somehow missed the obvious.