Page 14 of Sole Survivor

Curious, I pick up the glasses and try them on. Imagine not knowing if I need glasses. I don’t notice any improvement when I slip them on, so I take them off, assuming I just use them so I don’t strain my eyes when reading.

Placing my book next to the glasses, I walk over to the built-in closet and open the doors. It’s a large closet that I’m using less than thirty percent of. I have no idea if it’s because fashion isn’t my thing or if money is an issue.

If I’m not getting paid for the psychic gig, lord only knows what my bank account looks like.

Looking through the hangers, I find an eclectic mix of items, from leggings and hoodies to a beautifully tailored black suit. Most of the items, though, are long and short dresses with a boho feel.

Deciding I need to shower and change out of the scrubs I’m wearing, I grab a flowy ankle-length red dress with cap sleeves and beaded buttons that run the length. It has a v-cut design, but it’s still modest, though that would depend on how many buttons I left undone at both the top and bottom. I place it on the bed before pulling out a vintage-looking cropped brown leather jacket and a pair of brown cowboy boots. I put them with the dress, walk over to the dresser, grab a basic white bra and matching underwear, and head into the bathroom.

I start the shower before stripping out of my clothes. I wanted to do this the second I got home, but I wasn’t comfortable showering with Nathan in the house. Cop or not, I feel too vulnerable right now to take that kind of risk.

Climbing in once the water is hot, I recall the warnings ofstranger danger. I don’t think anyone learns what to do in cases like this, though, when everyone’s a stranger.

And if everyone’s a stranger, who can I trust?

Chapter Six

Rue

By the time I’d showered, dressed, and dried my hair, the reporters had come out in full force.

I’d tried to distract myself by exploring the house and searching through all my things, hoping to spark a memory or at least get a feel for what kind of person I was, but nothing did. There’s nothing personal here, and I don’t understand why. Nathan says this is my home, but it can’t be. There is nothing of mine here—no papers such as a birth certificate, driver’s license, insurance papers—nothing. I can’t even find a bill lying around.

The only thing that seemed out of place was the ratty teddy bear I found on the floor beside the bed. He looks like he was once loved a lot, but now, just like me, he looks lost.

I’d like to say it’s the memory loss that makes this place feel so strange, but I have a feeling that even with my memory back, I would never think of this house as my home. So, where is home to me?

Instead of finding answers, I end up with a thousand more questions.

My stomach rumbles, reminding me that I haven’t eaten today. I head down to the kitchen and rummage through the cupboards and fridge, which are mostly empty. I’m going to need more than instant hot chocolate and coffee to get me through.

I turn toward the front door when I hear the noise level pick up outside. Sighing, I walk over to the window to see the chaos. Reporters keep coming. Why, I don’t know. I have nothing to say to any of them.

I grab my purse from the coat hook and find my wallet inside. Opening it up, I’m happy to see I have enough cash in there to do some shopping because I can’t remember the PIN number for any of my cards.

I can’t approach the officers outside, not now with so many prying eyes out there, so it looks like I’ll just have to figure this out on my own. Its light out still and will be for a few more hours yet. I’m not reckless enough to go for a moonlit stroll, but at the moment it feels safer to be away from here and all these people that want a piece of me. The walls feel like they are closing in, and I know if I stay cooped up in here, I’m going to have a panic attack. I need is to get out of this house.

On the table is the file Nathan left for me with my basic information. I pull out the page with my address on it and shove it into my jacket pocket. I sling my purse over my shoulder and head for the back door. A couple of coats and a large floppy hat are on a stand next to it. I tuck my hair behind my ears and slip the hat on. The wide brim should obscure my face enough to prevent me from being recognized. If Clark Kent can make glasses work, I can make a hat work for me.

“Ooh, glasses.” I run upstairs, grab the glasses from beside my bed, and put them on. That’ll work.

I head back down to the back door. Unlocking it with the key that’s already in the lock, I open the door slowly as I scope out the area to make sure no reporters have gotten through the backyard fence and are waiting to jump out at me from the bushes. After a few minutes, I figure the coast is clear. I lock up, put the key in my pocket, and make my way to the far end of the yard to the gate.

When I reach it, I see that the gate has a padlock on it, so I pull the keys from my pocket and check to see if the key is there. Sure enough, I find a small key for a padlock. I unlock it and ease myself out. It turns out my yard backs onto a park.

It’s relatively quiet. Nobody pays any attention to me as I follow the path away from my house. I have no idea where I’m going, but anywhere has to be better than there right now. The early evening is warm, a picture-perfect autumn day as the leaves turn from vivid green to warm shades of burned reds and mellow golds.

I’m unsure how far I walk, but I eventually stumble across a grocery store. I take in the people coming and going, and everyone seems to be focused on themselves. That doesn’t stop me from feeling like there are eyes on me. I turn and look behind me, telling myself I’m being paranoid. With everything that’s going on, who wouldn’t be?

Suddenly, being outside doesn’t seem like such a good idea, and I hurry inside and grab a basket. I head up and down the aisles, throwing in the essentials and a few snacks. I don’t want to go crazy, at least until I can figure out what I do and don’t like.

I tense when I get to the register, but the cashier doesn’t even make eye contact with me as she scans my food and tells me the total. She doesn’t even look up when I hand her the cash and wait for my change.

With a small smile on my face, I make my way outside and collide with someone.

“Shit,” a deep voice curses, grabbing my arms as I stumble back and drop my bags. “Are you okay?”

I look up and feel the words dry up in my mouth.Holy fucking shit.

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