AllFreeNovel
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Their house is, for lack of a better word… cute. It’s a home full of many trinkets. They’ve clearly travelled far and wide.
Photos line every single wall and surface, most of them are purely of them together and with friends and family.
An absence of children, I note.
Not even a photo of a foster child. Just their massive dog that breathes noisier than a bear.
Maybe they don’t like holding on to things that eventually fly free.
It’s as we walk down the hall, a hall I’ve never walked before, that dread finally sinks in.
“How long am I here for?” Not that I have people to get back to outside of the asylum. Although I did have plans that would never happen. And I had a stash that is probably gone.
“Until I say so.” Stanley pushes open the door to our left, revealing a room big enough for a double bed and a desk. I see a door opposite the bed that must be the closet.
It’s clean, it’s clear, it’s white and there are flowers on the paper that are also white, just a different shade.
I don’t like it.
The drapes are too thin. I can’t see through them but the sun sure can.
Fuck my life.
“What about my uncle?” I drop my suitcase onto the floor.
“What about your uncle?” Lane counteracts my own question as she ushers the dog out of my room.
“Are you on his payroll too?”
Stanley stiffens. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
I’ll take that as a yes. “Nothing. Thank you for the room.”
They linger for a moment longer before finally stepping back into the hall. “If you need anything, let us know.” Lane’s voice is forever soft. I bet despite her soft persona, she’s feisty as hell. She has to be to put up with such a domineering man. His strong presence and energy could probably fill the entire town, let alone this room.
“We do have rules,” Stanley says. No bullshit, I like it.
I roll my eyes. “Naturally.”
“We will discuss them over dinner.”
“What time?”
“We’ll knock for you.”
“I’m allowed to close my door?”
“Christ…” Stanley mutters.
I sit on the bed, it’s quite bouncy. A little softer than what I’m used to. “Aren’t you going to check my suitcase?”
“You’re joking?”
I shrug. Why would I joke about that? Most places I’ve been didn’t want me out of their sight. Not that I blame them. I’m an apple slice short of a pecan.
“You did read my file, right?”
He remains silent. He doesn’t seem like the man who wouldn’t study his next mission.
“Is there anything you don’t like to eat?” Lane asks when the door has closed to nothing but a crack.
“I’ll eat whatever is made. I don’t eat much though so…” I trail off and think of the last meal I had where I sat with people at a table. I hope they let me bring my food to my room but somehow I don’t think that’s likely.
It’s been a while since I had my own space and a door that shuts by my own hand and not somebody else’s.
I kick my suitcase to the corner of the room, catching the cream, hopefully faux-fur rug with it, forcing it along the wooden floor. I shake it out and put it back. Contrary to their beliefs, I’m not a total cunt. I’m not about to trash my own space. Just theirs.
I’ll only be here for a few days anyway.
These people are too clean-cut and fresh for the likes of me.
But then what my uncle promised is tempting. Money, a new life, money… in return for good behavior while he fights to achieve his dream of becoming president. It’s only a few months, I figure I could do it. But then, do I really want anything else from him?
Ugh.
As I line my super old makeup on my new desk after hanging up my clothes that will probably get dumped in my suitcase a week from now, there’s a soft tapping noise.
“Dinner is ready,” Stanley calls through the closed wooden door.
Guess this means I won’t be eating in my room.
No big deal.
“Coming,” I reply and I hear his footsteps disappear down the hall followed by the padding paws of the oversized dog they rescued.
I pull my hood up over my center part that splits my white-blonde hair into two very long braids. I tuck those into the front of my jacket and zip it up, then poke my thumbs through the holes in the wrist cuffs.
When I open the door, I peek into the hall and catch sight of Stanley’s large back turning towards the stairs at the end and the wagging tail of Curlyfry.
Such an epic name.
I follow quietly, my sock-clad feet padding noiselessly on the soft rug. After descending the stairs, I hang back until he’s in the kitchen and then enter. I move to the sink and wash my hands, then look around for my plate, finding it set on the round table, an empty seat either side of me to give me space. Both Lane and Stanley are already sitting together opposite me.
