Page 1 of A Nest of Maple & Mist

ONE

MIA

My fingers trembled as the bottom of the cardboard box in my arms nearly gave way. I squeezed it tighter, the rough edges digging into my palms. I remained frozen on the walkway, staring up at the house that had once been the happiest place on earth.

Now, it looked like a decaying corpse.

Waist-high weeds devoured the lawn, smothering the flowerbeds where my mom used to plant marigolds in September. A childish part of me hoped that when I arrived, I’d see them once more.

It had been a naïve thought.

Instead of burnt-orange blooms, gnarled vegetation squeezed the life out of the porch.

A shutter hung from a single hinge, banging against the peeling white siding like the killer’s theme in a horror movie. Broken shards of glass spiderwebbed across the panes on the ground floor, the jagged pieces glinting in the sun.

Acid burned in my belly.

This had to be a nightmare. This couldn’t be real.

I slammed my eyes shut, praying I’d wake up.

Unfortunately, I was already awake. And this wasn’t a bad dream.

I had spent every penny I had—every cent of meager life insurance and savings I scraped together while working through school—to pay Northeast Property Management.

After their deaths, I refused to step foot in the place where we had shared our last dinner, our last hugs.

So many lasts.

I thought about selling the home once I turned eighteen. When I debated it, I sobbed until my eyes stung and my chest burned. While at the coffee shop studying, I saw a flyer for the property management company and called them immediately.

They were worth it.

At least, that was what I believed.

Five years of monthly checks. Five years of maintenance reports. Five years of bullshit.

They scammed me, bled me dry, probably laughing while they did. Teeth dug into my lower lip while pieces of cardboard slid under my nails. They left my home to rot, and my parents’ memories with it.

All while I sat four hours away in the city, too terrified to come back.

I’d been a coward, hiding away at college. I made excuses for myself, finding all the reasons why I couldn’t return home.

I had too many essays due. It was a distraction. One that would prevent me from graduating in less than three years.

Anything to avoid the memory of screeching car tires and screaming.

Even after I graduated, I’d stayed in the rundown apartment I shared with three other girls, avoiding the ghosts that inhabited Maple Falls.

Now, at the age of twenty-two, I was an omega who had never had a heat, never been courted, and apparently, never been smart enough to spot a scam.

I hated myself.

This was all my fault.

After an eternity, I forced my feet to move, the tall grass whispering against my leggings as I climbed the porch. Wood creaked under my weight, the spongy steps on the verge of giving out.

I didn’t even need my key. The front door hung slightly ajar, warped from moisture.