Chapter 1

1

I dated Ethan because I owed his family a debt. It took three years to finally feel accepted by that possessive, obsessive man. I married him at twenty, unexpectedly got pregnant, and had Evan. Even after seven years, there was still no wedding. He was always insecure, constantly testing my boundaries, needing constant reassurance that I loved him. And Evan, mimicking his father, never learned to respect me. Then, Mom died.

I handled the cremation alone and dragged myself home, exhausted. Only to find myself locked out by my own son.

It was pouring rain. I draped my coat over the urn and pressed the doorbell over and over. It was only early evening, but the sky was already dark. Heavy clouds hung overhead, punctuated by flashes of lightning and the roar of wind �C like the end of the world. It mirrored how I felt.

My choked sobs were swallowed by the downpour. The sky wept with me, the rain soaking me through. By the end, I was practically pounding on the door. Inside our brightly lit house, I could see the flickering light of the TV playing some cartoon. Ethan was out of town on business, but my son, Evan, was inside, warm and dry. He heard me. He was doing this on purpose. He'd occasionally pull this stunt �C changing the door code after I left the house.

Annoyed by my persistent ringing, he finally pressed the intercom button. "Why didn't you take the spare key, dummy? Figure it out yourself!" His childish voice, distorted by the speaker and the surrounding noise, sounded alien.

I leaned against the wall, wiping the rain and tears from my face, trying to shield the urn with my body. I didn't want Mom to get wet. I hadn't taken care of her well enough when she was alive; this was the least I could do now.

Swallowing my grief, I said, "Evan, I'm telling you one last time. Open the door."

The intercom light flickered, I heard a snippet of the cartoon, then it went dark. Silence. I slumped against the wall, eyes burning, body numb. A statue in the rain.

After a while, or maybe it was only a moment, I calmly accepted that I had lost my son. Then I laughed, blinked back the tears, and whispered to Mom, "It's okay, Mom. Let's go. I'll take you home."

I turned and walked away. I had lost my mother today. And Evan had lost his too.

...

I took a cab across town to the south side, a world away from Ethan's family estate. This area was full of older, more modest apartment buildings. But it felt…peaceful. Safe. As I climbed the dimly lit stairs, the motion-sensor lights flickered on above me, one by one. Like they were saying, "Welcome back. It's been a while."

But when I reached the fifth floor and stood in front of my old apartment, I patted my empty pockets. No keys. The rain dripped from my pants, forming a puddle at my feet. A draft chilled me to the bone.