1
ELENA
Chris Martin’s “Fix You”caressed my ears as Dad drove to our new destination. Why was I even trying?
It felt like my father wanted to ruin my life on purpose. Tears pricked in my eyes as I stared out the window. Frost patterns covered the glass as the street lights sparkled off the icy window every few yards.
When are lights going to guide me home, Chris? When?
There was no sign of life behind us, just snowy roads and tree silhouettes. The cold reflected the gaping hole deep inside me.
I pulled the blanket tighter and clung to the hot water bottle. I was fifteen, going on sixteen in less than six months, and my life, ever since I could remember, had been like this, on the run.
Every three months, Dad would pack and hit the road. Why? I didn’t know, but it was getting tedious, and I was so over it.
He acted as if some demonic force were chasing us, but it was clear it was all in his head.
I couldn’t wait to turn eighteen. I couldn’t wait to start my life, to get rid of this constant disturbance.
The snow zoomed past us, and the stars didn’t even shine. I was not too fond of winter.
Dad tapped my arm, and I looked at him. The faint lights coming from the dashboard lit up his rugged masculinity. Stubbles covered his jawline. He tapped his ear, and I removed one earpiece.
“Do you want to listen to your music on the radio?”
“No, I’m fine.” I stared out the window and slumped further down in my seat, plugging the earpiece back.
He let me be. Knowing that this was his fault, I had no friends, no social life, nothing.
I closed my eyes and hugged the hot water bottle, releasing a huge breath as “Fix You”ended.
That song felt as if Chris Martin from Coldplay peeked into my life and got inspired to write the lyrics. Except Dad didn’t give me what I wanted. But I needed someone to fix me, save me from this life.
I hated fighting with my father. It drained all my energy, sucked all the life out of my soul, and left me stuck in tiredness and hopelessness for weeks to come—stuck in reverse. It was one reason Mom left us so many years ago.
I didn’t remember her. I was two, and the only reason I knew what she looked like was because of the picture I hid in my treasure box.
Dad never talked about her, and when I brought up the topic, he would shut it down faster than I could outline a picture on a canvas.
Why Mom had left was becoming clearer each time Dad would make us pack. She was over it, too. Why didn’t she take her two-year-old daughter with her? Now that was the million-dollar question, and one that would never get answered.
Someone shook me,and my eyes flew open.
For the love of blueberries! Why don’t you give me a heart attack?
“We are here,” Dad said and climbed out of the truck.
The sun glowed underneath the dark clouds. It stopped snowing but left the earth covered in 15 inches deep white squishy snow. I hated the icy and wet feeling against my calves. My watch pointed out that it was almost five-thirty.
Light reflected off the snowy surfaces. Dark shadows reduced the snowy trees on the edge of the property. A forest was like a prop that came with all the places we’d rented.
My mind made up so many reasons a forest was part of our life. The possibilities were endless. At a time, I’d thought Dad was a vampire or a werewolf that needed the woods to go hunt, but then again, I’d never seen a fang, and werewolves had the full moon thing. Dad had never left me by myself, especially during full moons.
Still, it was creepy why trees or a patch of forest were always near.
The house was enormous. It had a barn—a bright red one lingered beneath all the snow. It reminded me of a farm.
“Home sweet home.”
