One-Forever Home

I'm not normal, by any account. I knew that the first minute I looked up at the broken-down, cottagey house that would become my new "Forever home", and wondered how long "forever" would take me this time. I knew it every morning when I looked in the side mirror on my dinky little pickup and saw my messy hair, black and blue, 'like the bruises on my beating heart' my friend Carter used to say. It was a stupid saying, but she loved to share it with anyone who questioned my exotic appearance. It's also the only thing I really remember about her. After the accident, anyway. When I woke up in the hospital and saw headlines reading "Rebecca Carter Pronounced Dead," three weeks old. I never figured out what happened in that accident, not even when the police officer dragged me to the station demanding answers to the same questions I was asking myself. They locked me up, saying I could get out when my memory returned.

I never did. My cellmate and I busted out that night. She'd been planning it solo for two weeks, but I swore I'd rat her if she refused to let me along. As soon as we got out, though, she was glad to have me. I hacked up this pickup to take us out of town, and she couldn't even drive. She had to be at least twenty-three. She told me to drop her at a park in the next town over; she'd find her way from there. I haven't seen her since.

I've seen me, though. My face is all over the news. My stepmom wants me home, those friends who weren't friends want me back in school, my sister misses me. Basically everyone who knew me is taking my disappearance as an opportunity for personal fame. The local police even said they'd drop charges against me if I was found. Apparently my cellmate was an unstable murderer, and everyone thought she'd kidnapped me. She seemed pretty stable to me.

That was all too long ago. I don't even know how long; days just come and go. I've slept in my truck, in the woods, in caves, on benches, in alleyways, anywhere I could. I found this one house on a hill, and stayed there for about six weeks or so. I called it my "Forever home" because it seemed like such a promising place to retire. It was in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by woods, with a creek nearby. There was an old wood stove, a fireplace, and a well. It had everything I could need.

Then the owners came back. I saw them pull up when I was coming back from the woods with dinner. Good thing I kept all my valuables in my truck, parked around back. I just got in, revved the engine, and left in a cloud of dust before they could see my face. Yet another reason for me to be in the news. I decided to keep a low profile after that, and I avoid houses that seem too promising. They generally are. Since then I've mainly lived in my truck. I also spent a while in a run-down shack or two. Now I'm here.

I walked around the 'house'. It was only one room, and the back wall didn't even exist. The side wall was broken and falling, and a huge tree had grown up in the middle of it. Ivy coated the remaining walls and the sagging roof, and there were the remnants of a staircase in the corner. The back yard was a huge clearing, with grass three or four feet tall, the front yard the forest.  It would do as well as any other home, so long as there was game. I hadn't seen a river on my drive in, so I'd have to find one of those before the supply of bottled water in my truck ran out. I hoisted my shotgun over my shoulder and headed into the field.

I got about fifteen feet out when I heard a rustle in the grass. I froze, listening. After a moment I took a step forward--right onto a twig. One hard crack, and about fifty deer chased each other away, all females or children. I looked to the left to find a huge buck, the antlers of which had to be at least six wide. What a creature, it could feed me for two weeks. It stared at me, hard, probably recognized the gun on my shoulder.

I raised my hands slowly above my head. Without releasing eye contact, I backed slowly out of the grass, and around the house, until I was completely out of sight. Thankfully, it didn't follow, but I knew better than to stick around. As much as I would've loved to take that thing out, there was no way my 120 pounds would even stand a chance against that over-200-pound beast. I loaded into my truck and looked back. It still wasn't coming, but in the silence of the forest I could tell it was it waiting, listening.

                Carefully, I put the truck in reverse and backed away from the house, which, I decided, would not become my new "Forever home".