I drove down a one-way street that had once been lined with maple trees and white picket fences. There had been swings in yards and children running in the streets.
It had been a cheerful place of laughter and smiles.
It was also the place where the innocent Ellie had died.
I came to a stop in front of a small one-story Cape Cod house. Even though it had been twenty years since I had called this place home, I remembered it perfectly.
If I closed my eyes I could see my mom’s face. Beautiful yet vacant. She had always been there in person but not in mind. Physically present but emotionally unavailable. But as a child I hadn’t known any better. Until one morning she wasn’t there anymore.
And everything had turned on its axis.
The house was empty. I could tell by the dilapidated state of the yard and the broken windows that it hadn’t been lived in for a while. It was a skeleton. Unloved and discarded.
It was fitting.
My phone rang and I looked down to see Flynn’s name flash across the screen.
My hand was shaking as I answered it.
“Hello?” I said, sounding breathless.
“Where are you? You should have been here twenty-seven minutes ago,” Flynn stated, getting straight to the point as always.
I stared at the house, where I had spent the first five years of my life and felt sadness. And bitterness. Resentment and a long buried anger. But I also felt relief that that part of my life was over. The girl who had been defined by the things that had happened there had grown up and moved on.
And now I was ready to go home.
“I’m on my way, “ I told Flynn, putting the car into drive and pulling away from the curb.
Chapter Three
-Ellie-
“Come on, Ellie,” Julie said, taking my bag. I clung to Clive, my stuffed dog, and followed her out to a red car.
I knew that I wasn’t going to live with Mr. and Mrs. Evans anymore. I knew Mrs. Evans had been mad when I poured glue in her bed and ripped up all of her roses.
I don’t know why I did any of that stuff. I felt bad after I did it. Though I never said that I was sorry.
“Where am I going?” I asked Julie after she pulled away from the house I had lived in for only three months.
“I’ve found you another family. A great one. They have a girl a few years older than you. Her name is Chelsea.”
“I’m seven. So is she nine?” I asked her, wondering about Chelsea.
“No, she’s eleven. She goes to the middle school. But they seem like really nice people. So let’s not put glue in the beds or rip up their flowers. And don’t dump out the food on the floors and remember, if you have to go to the bathroom, you need to use the toilet,” Julie said, sounding like my teacher at school.
I tucked my face into Clive’s soft fur. I hated that she brought up the bathroom. Sometimes when I got really upset I would pee in the corner of my bedroom. Mrs. Evans would yell at me when she found out. And then I’d pee again.
“Okay,” I said quietly.
Julie stopped the car a while later and opened the door for me to get out. She put her hand on my shoulder, squeezing it. I stared up at the house. It was so pretty. With red shutters and a big porch.
I wanted to live there forever.
I hoped this family loved me.
Two months later I was back in Julie’s car driving to a new house with a new family.
