I guess it’s time to apologize to my foster parents—and hope they don’t ground me for staying out so late…
Two
Adam
I had lived in isolation for ten years—away from the world that broke me—away from the memories that still haunted my dreams. There was a time when I was a man, but there wasn’t much humanity left. I became a beast that lingered in the shadows—in the hallowed halls of my family home. I didn’t even leave the shadows when my groceries and necessities were delivered. Why bother? The last time I did, I scared the boy who was dropping off my things so bad that he never made another delivery alone. Maybe I would have been scared too if our roles were reversed and I saw a hulking behemoth approaching me—even if that behemoth was trying to smile behind his ruined appearances. Then again, maybe it wasn’t a smile—I wasn’t even sure I remembered how to do that anymore.
That noise—is unfamiliar. It sounds like footsteps.
After living in isolation for so long, there was no sound in or around the house that could startle me. I knew every creak, every groan, every noise that the house could possibly make in the dead of night or middle of the day. I could even tell if the wind blowing through the trees that surrounded the property was a casual breeze or an incoming storm—just by the way it rasped. The thumping noise on my front steps was none of those—it was foreign and unnatural. I stood up from my chair and stepped into the shadows where I could stare without being seen. My house was too far from civilization for someone to visit—especially if their footsteps weren’t preceded by the sound of tires on concrete and gravel.
Someone’s here.
I followed the footsteps inside my house, mimicking the pattern I could hear outside. They paused at every window. I assumed they were trying to look inside. The curtains would prevent that, especially at night. I could see a silhouette in the moonlight—with curves that didn’t belong to a man. I continued to follow the footsteps and the silhouette until they both stopped near the back door of the house. The curtain there wasn’t drawn, so I stepped into the shadows and stared as she cupped her hands against the glass. She was very pretty—from what I could see in the darkness. It had been so long since I had laid eyes on a woman that I had to blink a couple of times to make sure I wasn’t imagining things—but when she pulled away, I saw fog on the glass that had been left behind by her breath.
Who is she, and what does she want?
I followed her silhouette and footsteps when they moved again—and then they came to a stop near the living room window. I always left that curtain slightly parted, because I could see the moon from my chair when it was high above my house. She pressed her hands to the window again and peered into the room. There wasn’t much for her to see. The house would have probably appeared vacant to someone who didn’t know I was there. I rarely turned on the lights. My eyes had gotten used to the darkness, and I knew the house like the back of my hand. After looking around the living room, she started walking in the opposite direction. I followed her footsteps back towards the front steps and pushed a curtain to the side. She walked to the old fountain, paused briefly to look at the roses, and then disappeared down the driveway.
That was strange.
I had no idea who she was or why she was at my house. If she was on foot, she had a long way to go before she would make it to the main road. In my younger days, I would have probably followed her to make sure she was okay, but I couldn’t muster enough emotion to care. I walked back to my chair, sat down, and picked up the pocket watch that I had been holding when she arrived. I didn’t need light to read the inscription—I had it memorized. It was a present from the only woman I had ever loved. She gave it to me the day we got married—hours before she drew her last breath.
You would have wanted me to open the door and ask if she needed help—that’s the kind of person you were.
The woman who gave me the pocket watch was an angel—my angel. We were twenty-two when we said our vows. I never imagined a life without her—but the loneliness was all I had left. I kept waiting for a merciful end to my suffering because living without her was nothing more than a cursed version of existing. It wasn’t the life she would have wanted for me, and not the one I would have wanted for her if the situation was reversed, but I didn’t know how to move on, so I just stayed trapped in the moment—for so long that it didn’t seem like the shattered pieces of my soul were ever going to come together again.
Life was so simple before the torment and despair.
* * *
I had mostly forgotten the visit from the strange girl who looked in my windows until I saw her again a couple of days later—in broad daylight. She was outside my house, staring at the rose bush that had grown through the cracks in the old water fountain. I had no idea how those roses managed to bloom when everything around them died, but they had been there since I returned to my family home—my self-imposed prison. I watched her, and my curiosity was piqued, but not enough to open the front door and ask why she was there. After looking around the yard for a couple of minutes, she walked towards the house. I didn’t have the cover of darkness, so I took a few steps back so that I would be completely out of sight.
I know she’s not looking for me. There’s nobody left that gives a fuck.
The girl was more than just pretty—she was a vision of loveliness with honey-brown hair that framed her face with curls and curves that were impossible to ignore. For the first time in ten years, I felt a hint of temptation—desires that had been buried so long I didn’t think they still existed. I actually felt my pulse racing. I might have become a beast while I hid from the world, but there was still a man lingering below the surface—a man that still craved the feel of delicate skin and a passionate embrace. I stared until she walked away from the window and then snapped myself out of the moment—even thinking about that was betraying the memory I had clung to since the day I lost my wife. I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes so that I could flush the image of the beautiful girl out of my head, but then I heard a rattle—she was trying to open the front door.
What the fuck?
The door was locked. There was no way she was going to get in unless she broke into my house. I thought that was her intention at first—but then I heard her walking down the steps. I crept up to the window and narrowed my eyes as she walked back towards the driveway—then she disappeared around the curve that led to the road. The temptation was gone—and so were those gorgeous curves. I returned to my chair and sat down. I assumed that would be the last time I saw the strange girl, and it was probably best that she left when she did. If she had stayed, I might have opened the door—and she would have gotten quite a scare when she saw the beast that had overtaken the man I used to be. Even after she was gone, I couldn’t shake the feeling inside me—the dormant desire that had been brought to the surface again.
I swore I’d never betray your memory and have any other woman in my thoughts but you. I’m sorry…
* * *
It was two more days before the beautiful girl appeared outside my house again, and she wasn’t alone—another young woman was with her—she appeared to be about the same age with long blonde hair and a tanned complexion. I watched them from the bedroom window on the second floor as they wandered around the yard and pointed at the house. I could tell that they were talking, but I couldn’t hear their voices. The second girl was pretty, but she didn’t catch my eye like the first one did. It was like comparing the Mona Lisa to a crude drawing made by a child. The two of them finally started to approach the house, and I walked downstairs so that I could see what they were doing. Once again, the girl with honey-colored curls rattled the doorknob—and her friend did the same, but then she hit the door a couple of times with her shoulder. Alarm bells went off—they had every intention of breaking into my house.
Well now I know why they are here…
As far as I could tell, they didn’t have any weapons. I didn’t want them in my house but letting them br
eak down the door just so they could go running when they saw me seemed foolish. I started walking to the door, but before I got there—I heard hurried footsteps on the stairs. I peeked out the window, and I saw the blonde haired girl with a cell phone pressed to her ear. A second later, she pulled it away and motioned for the girl with honey-colored curls to follow her. They walked to the driveway, and I watched until they were out of sight. After being visited by the vision of loveliness three times, I was pretty sure she would be back—possibly with more than just one friend. My front door was sturdy, but the house wasn’t a fortress.
I should make sure my great-grandfather’s shotgun is still loaded—just in case.
I had no intention of shooting two teenage girls, but a warning shot wasn’t entirely out of the question—especially if they didn’t come alone. I wasn’t sure if they were trying to break in because they thought the house was abandoned and they wanted somewhere to hang out, or if they actually meant to steal from me. There was very little that I cared about in my family home, but I wasn’t going to let them just start pillaging it. I still didn’t know how the vision of loveliness had found the house to begin with. It was empty for two generations before I retreated into the solitude that it provided, and she was the very first visitor that showed up without being invited first.
Maybe I need to look into getting the gate repaired…
Three
Anabelle
One week later
“What do you mean that you don’t want to go back?” I grabbed Violet’s arm and pulled her away from the crowd at the graduation ceremony. “We planned this!”
“I know…” she sighed. “But my foster parents had a change of heart. They said I can stay with them through the summer and they’re going to help me get a car—that means I could go to school or find a job and stay in the foster system until I’m twenty-one.”
“That house looks loaded! I looked up a few of those figurines we saw the other night—some of them are selling on auction sites for hundreds of dollars.” I squeezed her arm a little tighter. “We could do what we talked about—we could leave Los Angeles and start over somewhere else.”
“Or we could get caught and go to prison…” she sighed again. “I’ve just been really conflicted since things went wrong at the gas station. I don’t know if I want to resort to a life of crime just to support myself. If I’ve got three more years to figure it out, I don’t want to blow that chance.”
I can’t believe she’s doing this to me!
“Okay.” I nodded and let go of her arm. “I understand.”
I knew there was no way to change Violet’s mind once it was made up. That’s part of the reason the gas station robbery changed from a joke-fueled fantasy to the reality of us standing outside of it with ski masks on. She might have solved her problems, but I was still in a tough situation. The night I came home after finding the mansion in the woods, they didn’t ground me—they didn’t yell at me—they were just cold and distant. I could tell that our relationship dynamic had changed.
They finally accepted the fact that I wasn’t going to be their problem much longer and stopped trying to enforce the rules. Instead of dancing around my expiration date like they had before that point, they were actively discussing it when they thought I couldn’t hear them. I was getting traded in for a sweet young child that would do what they were told—because I had become too much of a handful—that’s what they told my social worker at least. Even if some miracle kept me in the foster system, I wouldn’t be living there much longer.
I walked back over to my classmates and lined up with them so that we could all get our diplomas—thankfully, they were calling people in alphabetical order, so I didn’t have to wait long.
“Anabelle Bentley!” The principal smiled and turned towards me.
There was very little clapping and no real applause when I walked across the stage and shook the principal’s hand. My foster parents didn’t come to the ceremony, and I wasn’t the most popular kid in school. The loudest clapping came from my social worker—I guess she cared enough to show up or it was part of her job—maybe she was just celebrating the fact that I wasn’t going to be the state of California’s problem much longer. After I got my diploma, I walked over to the side of the stage and stood there while everyone else got their freedom paper. I clapped when Violet walked, even if I was upset with her. Once the names were called, people walked over to celebrate with their families and I just kind of wandered off aimlessly.
“Ana! Congratulations!” My social worker walked over and extended her arms for a hug.
“Thank you, Ms. Betty.” I forced a smile and gave her a hug.
“I was hoping to sit down with you earlier this week, but things have been busy—it was nice to have a holiday last week, but the work didn’t stop.” She leaned back from our embrace.
“No problem. I know what you want to discuss…” I looked down and sighed. “How long do I have before I’m out on my own?”
“I was hoping that we could discuss options for school—or a job.” She tilted her head slightly. “Your foster parents said that you haven’t submitted many applications for college.”
“They were all getting rejected.” I shrugged. “I got accepted to Greater Los Angeles Community College—but I can’t afford to go.”
Thanks to teenage angst and rebellion—which impacted my school work in a negative way and screwed up my GPA.
“Yeah, it’s tough if you don’t get a scholarship.” She sighed. “There are grants, and you might be able to get a few loans.”
“My loan applications were rejected.” I shook my head back and forth. “I got approved for a Pell Grant, but it’s not enough to pay for everything. Even if it did, I don’t have a car and who knows where I’ll end up after the Smiths throw me out—I can’t depend on public transportation when I don’t know where I’ll live.”
“Yeah and it’s a tough situation right now because you need to be enrolled in school or employed in order for me to place you somewhere now that you’re eighteen.” She nodded. “If nothing else, you should get enrolled in school so that it’s an option. It’ll buy you some time, even if you never attend a class…”
“Are you…” I raised an eyebrow. “Telling me to cheat the system?”
“My job is to look out for you.” She put her hand on my shoulder. “If you’re enrolled in school, I can place you in a new foster home.”
“Okay.” I nodded. “I’ll think about it…”
Three more years. That’s what going to college would buy me. Cheating the system would buy me a few months at most. It was definitely something to consider, but I was already consumed by the allure of the mansion in the woods. It felt like fate had led me to that place, and every time I walked away, I felt something pulling me back. I was positive that it was abandoned, or a vacation home that was rarely used. I convinced myself that it was a treasure trove based on what I could see—the pocket watch looked like gold, and I already knew the figurines in the glass case were worth money. That was just what I could see from the window—there had to be more than that waiting on the other side of that locked door.
We almost made it in the last time we went—but Violet had to leave when her foster parents called. We were borrowing their car that day, so we didn’t have a choice. I wasn’t going to waste my next opportunity. I didn’t think I would be able to take everything of value in one trip. If I managed to convince my foster parents to loan me their car again, I couldn’t show up at their house with a bunch of valuables without raising a lot of questions. I needed a new plan, and since Violet wasn’t going to help me, I needed to come up with something that I could do on my own—luckily, all I had was time—time that was rapidly ticking towards my expiration date. Even if I did get enrolled in school, there was no guarantee I would be placed with a family that lived close enough for me to pull off the heist.
I definitely need to act fast…
* * *
The next d
ay
“Hey, Mrs. Smith?” I walked into the living room where my foster mother was watching a movie on Netflix.
“Yes?” Her tone was flat—just like it had been since they gave up on me.
“Could I possibly borrow the car today?” I looked down at the floor. “I wanted to stop by the Community College…”
“Why?” She raised an eyebrow. “Can’t you submit your application online?”
“I can…” I nodded. “But I just want to look around a little bit.”
“Fine,” she sighed. “The keys are in the kitchen.”
“Thank you.” I smiled and walked back to my room.
She was right—there was no reason for me to stop by the school—and that wasn’t where I was going. I put together a plan after I got back from graduation. While the other students were out celebrating their freedom, I was trying to figure out how to put mine in danger. I was going to break into the house, grab the pocket watch, one of the figurines, and drive downtown. The pocket watch could easily be pawned, and I found a store that specialized in antique collectibles. I was going to grab one of the figurines, get a quote, and if they were willing to buy the whole set, I could make a quick trip back to grab the rest. I hoped that I would find a few more valuables in the process that could be pawned, but the figurines and the pocket watch looked like guarantees. I was sure that the pocket watch was gold after finding out that the figurines were so old and valuable.
Beast Daddy: Once Upon A Daddy Page 2
