She’d been home for about a week and nothing had really changed. Her father had shouted, hugged her, and shed a few ill-concealed tears. Her mother had pretended, for her father’s sake, to be upset, but Alexia knew better. There was a glint in the woman’s eyes… Disappointment. Alexia was supposed to stay gone.
Sorry mom, had to let you down again.
The truth was, Alexia had only come back because she had something to do, a goal to complete. She needed to find out about the town, about the history of deaths. There were so many secrets to uncover and with her nose pressed to history books, Alexia didn’t feel quite as lonely. Bentley’s ancestors became her ancestors, their life became her life. Who needed real friends when you could know people who’s life you could map out to the hour? There were no surprises when you knew everything.
It was on one of these days, as Alexia sat in one of her father’s old, ratty sweatshirts, that a knock on the door drew her out of her studies. She frowned. Who could that possibly be? Probably a salesperson. Sighing, she slouched to the door, the bottoms of her baggy sweats dragging across the pristine floor. When she opened the door, she started to tell them she wasn’t interested. Then the words got lost in her throat.
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