Page 4

I hum a song under my breath. There is a little doll standing on his dashboard. The head bobs up and down continuously. My lips curl up at the sight.

“Where to?” The deep rumble of a voice brings me back to reality.

The man glances at me from the corner of his eye, thrumming his finger on the steering wheel. “The town square is fine.” Originally I wanted to go to my new house first, but I’m feeling nostalgic and want to wander around town to see what it looks like now.

“What is your name?”

He keeps his gaze focused on the road as he gives me a one-word answer.

“Carson.”

It fits him. I’ve never met a Carson before, but he looks like one.

“I’m Alexis,” I say after a few minutes pass. And I realize he isn’t going to ask me about my name.

“Yeah, I know.” I touch my scar again. It is noticeable, but he didn’t stare at it strangely. Most of the time, when people see my scar. They stop for a while to stare at it, like I’m a famous painting hanging in a museum. But I haven’t caught him doing that. I knew moving here would mean that there might be people who would recognize me, or at least the scar. But I’m used to being stared at. I have had years of experience in that apartment.

But Carson surprises me with his answer.

“You called my dad. The tow truck company? He is the one who will collect your car when he has the time.”

“That’s fine.” I don’t need my suitcases right now. I don’t mind waiting. I have everything I need in my backpack.

“Have you lived here long?” I ask.

“I was born here.” He doesn’t look familiar, when Micah and I lived here we weren’t very social, we didn’t make friends, it was always just us. We had no classmates we kept in contact with since we moved in the middle of summer. Carson looks the same age as me, we probably would have been in the same grade if I didn’t move away.

We enter Town Square minutes later. There are people everywhere. Strolling through the street. Kids riding on their bikes. Carson stops the car. He takes the key out of the ignition, the strawberry lollipop in his hand. When he leans in front of me, his arm brushing my bare leg.

What the—?”

He opens the glove box, grabs a white plastic bottle, and hands it to me. I read the small blue letters.

Sunscreen.

He gave me sunscreen.

“Thank you.”

He nods, sucking the lollipop in his mouth. “You should put some aloe vera on that.” He gestures towards the sunburn on my arms. My lips curl in a smile.

“I will, thanks.” I open the car door, the blasting heat greeting me again. “Hey, Alexis,” Carson calls. I stare at him over my shoulder, his eyes filled with an emotion I can’t name.

“Welcome back.”

I grin, slam the door shut, and wave at him. He waves back, reverses, and drives away.

Willow Hills is just like any small town. It has a picturesque town square. The streets are filled with all kinds of small businesses. I’ve been here for a few minutes. And in those few minutes, I have already spotted three coffee shops. There is a diner I recognize from my childhood. There is one bar. That is filled to the brim even though it’s two pm on a Monday. I’m strolling through a familiar neighborhood when I stop at a house.

It is a house that I have been in countless times. A house with good memories, but mostly bad. It’s the house—the origin of my nightmares.

There are cracks in the pavement leading to the front door just like fifteen years ago.

They painted the door. It used to be blue. It was the kind of blue that would remind you of rainy days, with a flicker of blue skies.

Now it looks like death. The door is pitch black. Perhaps it is a modern thing. Or perhaps it reminded them of what happened behind that door.

I had always wondered what had happened to this place. If someone bought it, or if they decided to bulldoze it. I don’t know which option I would have liked best. But now that I’m staring at it, I’m relieved it still exists. Micah loved this house. He didn’t know then that it would also be the last house he would live in. But I find it comforting that he died in the place he loved the most.