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“Oh.” I’d somehow almost forgotten about Trevor’s charred remains. “Okay.”
"I'll get your... toiletries while I'm out."
When I was alone, I finally had time and space to think. I searched the house. Nothing weird anywhere. There were a few locked doors, including what I thought was probably Shannon’s bedroom on the second floor. There was no land line phone anywhere in the house, and no computer outside the now-locked office.
The white cat followed me from room to room yowling in an irritated fashion like she was going to tell on me for checking things out. But everything lookednormal. So normal, in fact, that for a moment I could pretend that Shannon was just a regular nice guy and that all the nasty business with Trevor had never happened.
But ithadhappened. Intellectually I knew I should be searching for a way to escape, but I couldn't bring myself to believe that a man who wanted me dead would have just spent so much money buying me new clothes.
5
Eventually, we settled into something resembling a routine. I finally stopped fearing that he’d throw me down and take my imagined virtue, or that he’d kill or otherwise harm me. Shannon treated me like I was his roommate—his deadbeat mooch of a roommate who didn’t pay rent. I actually started to feel guilty about it. I was wearing clothes he’d bought, using his water and electricity, eating his food, invading his space. And so far he hadn’t asked for anything in return.
But still I felt like it was coming. I expected any day now to see some version of an invoice slipped under my door with a demand for immediate payment.
This invasion was clearly uncomfortable for him—like my existence interrupted the flow of his space, like I’d thrown off thefeng shuior something. But he didn’t comment on it. He didn’t act like he was going to get rid of me. The cat followed him everywhere, shooting me dirty looks whenever she passed by. If anybody was planning my demise, it was that freaky nameless cat.
So far, despite Shannon’s promise, I hadn’t left the house yet, even though my hair had been short and black for two weeks now instead of its previous long blonde. My eyes were now chocolate brown instead of blue. Or they would be if I ever left the house and wore the contacts. They mainly just sat in their case. A part of me doubted I’d even remember to put them in if and when he ever let me venture outside.
When I looked in the mirror, I felt like even more of a stranger to myself, as if a new wave of amnesia would come along and drag me under its empty dark water, erasing everything before I’d met Shannon.
He left during the day sometimes. Not every day, but most days. And it wasn’t a set schedule like he was going to the nine-to-five grind. Sometimes he was gone when I woke. Sometimes I was sure he left in the middle of the night. Sometimes he left around noon. There was no set schedule, no rhyme or reason. I’d asked once or twice where he went, and he would say, “to the gym”.
I think he probably did go to the gym sometimes. Sometimes he was dressed for it. And there was a gym bag that often left with him. Being as paranoid as he seemed to be about everything, it wouldn’t surprise me if he constantly varied his routine, working out at bizarre hours to throwwhoeveroff this trail.
Why would a man need to be that paranoid if he wasn’t doing something wrong or dangerous? But then, I don’t think I’d ever believed Shannon was a nice guy with a normal job. He was dangerous like a wild animal was dangerous. Whatever it was that had come along and civilized humanity so we could function properly in groups, had bypassed him. He was his own law.
One evening at dinner, Shannon dropped an orange manila envelope on the table in front of me.
“What’s this?”
“It’s you.”
I stared at it. “What do you mean?” But I knew what he meant. I was just stalling.
“Open it.” He slid a silver letter opener across the table.
I stopped it with the edge of my hand and slit the envelope open. Inside was a dossier. On me. There was also a DVD. A shiver traveled down my spine. He’d been out there stalking my information. I wasn’t sure if this felt like a kindness or a threat. I couldn’t bring myself to read the details just yet.
“Where did you get all this? H-how did you get all this? How do I know this is the truth? You could be lying like Trevor.”
Shannon shrugged as if it didn’t matter to him one way or the other what I believed. “I could be. It’s up to you whether you want to believe what’s in there. But it’s a narrative that doesn’t include the end of the world. Do what you want with it. I need to make some calls.”
He got up and put his plate and glass in the sink and ran some water over them. Then he went to his office down the hall and closed the door.
I put the papers back inside the envelope without reading them and took them upstairs to my room. I slid the envelope under my mattress. I wasn’t ready for more stories about me. Even though I had a strong feeling these were the stories that were true. Now that I held it in my hands I was afraid to know that truth.
What kind of a misfit hermit had I been if no one had called the hospital or police to claim me? Maybe I was afraid to see a bunch of wasted time staring back at me—no accomplishments to speak of. Nothing the world cared about. As long as I didn’t know, I could pretend I’d had a meaningful impact, even though I knew that couldn’t be true. If it were true, someone would have called. Someone besides Trevor would have missed me.
When I went back downstairs, the office door was still shut. I eased up to the door and pressed my ear against it. I could hear Shannon on the phone. Just barely. He didn’t have a land line, just what he called aburner. It was a simple black pre-paid cell phone. He routinely disposed of them and bought new ones.
“I told you I’ve been busy... I got a new pet. I needed to get her housebroken and acclimated... of course another cat... you know I can’t have a dog with my travel schedule...” Why did I think I was the cat in this scenario? Shannon could be lying about how long he’d had the white cat, but she was far too territorial to be new. “... No, the money’s not the problem. It’s our agreed rate. You said it wasn’t dire, so I took you at your word. But I’m ready now. It’ll be done within the week. Be out of town next Thursday with people who can account for your whereabouts.”
When the call ended, I practically flew to the living room couch, and sat there trying to look like I hadn’t just heard what I was nearly a hundred percent certain was a discussion about killing someone.
Shannon came out and looked at me for a long moment. Then his gaze shifted to the dining room table. “Elodie?”
“S-sorry.” I got up and quickly took my plate and glass to the sink and put it in the warm water. I don’t know why I got so freaked out whenever that tone came to his voice. Actually, I did know why. It’s just that he’d never done anything personally to me to illicit this fear.
