I swallow down the bitter disappointment, focusing once more on the landscape. We drive through what appears to be a downtown area with cobblestone streets, quaint shops and restaurants, and numerous benches. I remember running down this exact sidewalk…
“You can’t run from me forever,” a cold voice shouted as my footsteps pounded against the asphalt of the street. Up above, I spotted the bright lights of Mama’s House, the local diner.
Just a little farther…
“Found you,” he whispered in my ear.
I pull myself out of the memories that threaten to drag me under and consume me. Vigorously shaking my head, I shove them in a steel casket and bury it miles beneath the surface, never to be seen or heard from again.
As we drive out of town, I begin to pay closer attention to my surroundings. The family-owned grocery store in desperate need of repair. The dog park with rusted fences and precariously tilting steel benches.
High Groves Middle School.
My eyes narrow at the unassuming brick building as the car passes it. I know, logically, that I’ll now be attending the high school across town, but I can’t stop the stab of hate and anger that bombards me.
“Your nana is expecting you,” Charles says conversationally. “She set up a room for you in the attic.”
“She didn’t have to do that,” I murmur awkwardly, anxiously chewing on my lower lip. I haven’t seen Nana in years, and I can’t deny the flicker of self-consciousness that reverberates through me.
We pull up in front of wrought iron gates, and Charles steps out of the car to manually open them. I attempt to peer around the boughs of trees, desperate to catch a glimpse of my childhood home.
It’s only when Charles enters the car once more and begins the trek up the curving driveway, do I see the gothic mansion nestled snugly in the middle of a secluded forest.
It’s four stories high with numerous gables and turrets. Two gargoyles perch on the roof, their stone faces sending pinpricks of fear racing down my spine. The brown paint on the walls has faded in some spots, though I can’t decide if it’s from inconsistent weather or time itself. Leaves cover the front steps and porch, already turning hues of black and brown instead of their normal orange and yellow.
My memories of this place depict it as being grand and elegant, plucked straight out of a fairy tale. Was I really that blind to the desolate home towering before me?
“Can I help you with your bags?” Charles asks, already hurrying around the car to open my door for me. His face is weathered by age, deep lines carved down both of his cheeks and around his eyes. When he walks, his back hunches over, almost as if there’s a weight pressing down on the middle of his spine.
“I got it,” I hurry to respond. “Thank you, Charles.” He smiles, showcasing his crooked teeth, and I feel my own lips curve upwards instinctively. Charles has become a fixture in my life. It’s going to be hell saying goodbye to him.
I grab my single duffel bag and sling it over my shoulder. The rest of my belongings were sent over earlier.
The pathway leading up to the house is bogged down with weeds, and the air smells like grass and garbage.
Still, there’s a skip to my step that hadn’t been there prior as I rap my knuckles against the front door. Charles steps up beside me and offers me a reassuring smile. I relish the wrinkled curve of his lips and the sparkle in his eyes. It makes me feel braver, stronger, capable of doing what I’d set out to do in the first place.
Taking another deep, ragged breath, I pound on the door a second time. After a moment of prolonged silence, I hear the patter of footsteps and the jangle of bracelets.
“Peony!” a raspy voice says, even before the door fully opens. “I wasn’t expecting you for at least a couple more hours.”
“Mom decided to send me off early,” I reply dryly. Correction—she practically threw me out of the house.
The door opens the rest of the way, and I get my first good look at Nana, otherwise known as Cardinal Simone. Her naturally gray hair has been dyed a bright violet, the curls cascading to the middle of her back. Despite her age, she has no wrinkles on her face. The only indication that she’s above forty is the wisdom emanating from