Raveling You(9)

She squeezes my hand reassuringly. “We’re all doing well. Granted, Nolan’s a little less motivated than you, Sage, and me. Do you ever get the feeling that his interest in the music industry is solely based on getting laid?”



“I’ve thought that a lot,” I reply as we enter the dimly lit kitchen that smells like vanilla with a hint of cleaner.



A plate of cookies Lila sent over this morning is on the countertop along with a stack of neon pink flyers for the opening of Infinite Bliss, Lyric’s dad’s new club.



“He’s so old school,” Lyric remarks as she picks up a flyer.



“He didn’t do any other promoting?” I steal a cookie off the plate.



“No, he did after I made a suggestion that flyers don’t work that well anymore.” She drops the flyer back onto the stack. “See, he totally owes me.” She grabs two cookies off the plate then steers us out the back door and to the driveway. “I just wish he’d realize that.” She puts the cookies in her mouth so she can open the garage door without letting go of my hand.



The night sky is lit up by the moon and the countless stars and matches the illuminated neighborhood covered with Christmas lights and decorations. I’ve lived here for over a year and still can’t get over how different it is from all the other homes I stayed at. So bright, cheery, welcoming. All the other homes were full of despair and were energy draining.



“Who is that?” Lyric suddenly asks.



I track her gaze to a man wearing a tracksuit with a dog on a leash. He’s slowly walking down the sidewalk with his attention on my house, specifically focusing on the second story, right on my bedroom window.



“I don’t know. He’s probably just some neighbor wondering why we have a half-deflated Santa near the front door of the house.”



My thoughts laugh at me, whisper another story, remind me that it was my neighbors who took me into their home and broke my brother as well as my sister and me.



Sharp objects, have you forgotten?



All those days forced into restraints.



All the blood spilled across the carpet.



The stench of rust hanging in the air.



Trust. Trust. Trust.



How can you still be so naïve?



Lyric looks at me with concern. “Yeah, I guess so … but he’s not even looking at the front door. And I think I saw him earlier, too, and he looked like he was staring at your window.”



I squint through the darkness to get a better look at him: middle-aged, going bald, a beer gut, and what looks like a scar on his jawline. For a brief moment, I pause, trying to connect the guy to my past. But my effort is worthless. The people who kidnapped me are buried in the darkest parts of my mind along with the memories of what they did to me.



“He looks like almost every other guy who lives on the street.” My inner voice laughs at me again. “I’m sure it’s nothing.” Even I don’t sound that convinced by my words, though.



“Maybe.” Lyric sounds doubtful. “Ay, I don’t want you to be upset with me for bringing it up, but… I was thinking about how those detectives said that maybe Aunt Lila and Uncle Ethan should keep an extra eye on you until they can figure out who was behind…” She anxiously waits for me to say something. When I don’t, she tacks on, “Maybe we should mention something to them, just in case.”



My eyes wander back to the man and I realize the he’s looking right at us. I instantly stumble back into the shadows and pull Lyric with me. Then I position myself in front of Lyric to protect her from being seen.



“Do you think he can see us?” Lyric whispers, fisting the bottom of my shirt as she peers over my shoulder.



“Not now.” My body convulses with spasms as her knuckles graze my lower back, but she doesn’t appear to notice, too preoccupied by the man. “But I’m sure he did before we ducked back here.”



I observe the man from around the corner of the garage. He continues to stare in our direction, before finally fixing his attention back on my house. Then with a jerk on the dog leash, he scurries down the sidewalk toward the end of the block and out of sight.



“That was weird.” Lyric steps around me, the absence of her warmth leaving me oddly cold inside. “We should definitely mention it to Aunt Lila.”



“Yeah, I guess we should. If you think so, anyway.” When I face her, she scowls at me. “What?”



“Not you guess,” she scolds. “You will tell her, or I will. I don’t care if it’s nothing. After … what happened, I’m not going to risk it, risk something happening to you.”