Page 64 of Sin Bin

When it was her turn to speak, her voice was so raspy with emotion that she hardly recognized it. She thanked everyone for welcoming her into their lives and told them she would always consider them family. “The time we spent together has enriched me beyond measure and left me with so many wonderful memories. Memories that I’ll carry in my heart forever.”

At the end of her speech, the room erupted in cheers and applause. Then everyone crowded around her, swallowing her up in tearful hugs and well wishes. Plenty more pictures were taken, and phone numbers and email addresses were double-checked and confirmed.

When the party was over, Diego and Zari walked out with Meadow, helping her carry her stuff to her car. They hugged her tightly and promised to keep in touch, then stood waving goodbye as she drove away with fresh tears in her eyes.

A feeling of deep melancholy settled over her as she headed home. She found herself wondering if she was doing the right thing by moving to Denver. She’d had a rocky childhood, and everywhere she looked she saw reminders of her troubled past. She needed a change of scenery, a blank canvas she could paint her future upon. But Vegas was the only home she’d ever known. What if she didn’t fit in anywhere else?

The thought made her frown as she stopped at a red light. She was sitting there when suddenly, without warning, her mind flashed to an image of herself as a little girl lying in a hospital bed.

The picture was so clear that she gasped, her hands tightening on the steering wheel.

It wasn’t the first time the image had popped into her consciousness. But she still didn’t know the source of it. Was it a memory? Part of a dream?

Slowly she reached up to rub the thin surgical scar hidden under her hairline. She must have been hospitalized at some point in her childhood. But she didn’t remember when or why, and she’d never been able to get concrete answers from anyone.

She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she didn’t realize the light had turned green until a horn honked behind her. Embarrassed, she glanced in the rearview mirror and waved apologetically at the annoyed driver.

And then, acting on impulse, she turned left instead of right and headed west of downtown. She was going someplace she hadn’t been since she was six years old. She’d memorized the address from her records, one of the few pieces of information she’d been able to obtain.

After half a dozen blocks, she turned onto Rainbow Boulevard and kept going until she reached a road leading into an old residential neighborhood. She drove until she came to the address, her pulse kicking up.

She parked across the street from the house, under the rustling fronds of a mesquite tree. The desert sun was setting and the street was quiet.

She shut off the engine, rolled down the window and stared at the one-story house. Like most of the other houses on the street, it was old and shabby, the stucco peeling and in need of fresh paint. The yard was overgrown, the windows were dark and the driveway was empty. No one appeared to be home.

She had no memory of living there. No memory of walking down those crumbling front steps or sitting under that large tree in the yard. It was like looking at a stranger’s house, not the place she’d briefly called home after her parents died. She felt no connection to it. No sense of attachment.

But as she sat there looking out the window, a strange feeling came over her. A feeling of fear and dread that knotted her stomach and sent an icy chill down her spine.

She swallowed hard and licked her lips, her fingers worrying at the scar beneath her hairline. She wished more than ever that she could fill the holes in her memory. But maybe it was for the best that she couldn’t remember the past. Maybe the truth was too devastating. Maybe it would undo all the progress she’d made over the years.

Maybe it would destroy her.

The thought made her break into a clammy sweat. As she sat staring at the gloomy old house, she couldn’t shake a growing certainty that something terrible had happened within those walls. Something unspeakable that haunted her to this day.

As her heart began to beat faster, she thought she could hear the faintest echo of screams. A woman’s horrified screams followed by a man shouting and—

Pop!

A car backfired down the street, the loud noise making her jump out of her skin.

Blood pounding in her ears, she started the car with shaking hands and drove off, suddenly desperate to get away from the house and the secrets within.

Her heart was beating out of her chest and she could feel her breath starting to hitch. She barely made it out of the neighborhood before the panic attack hit.

She pulled over to the side of the road and jammed the car into park. She was gasping and choking, trying to get air into her lungs. She clawed her seat belt off and flung the door open, dragging in desperate gulps of oxygen.

It had been a while since she’d had one of her panic attacks. She’d experienced them regularly while in foster care and for several years after she was adopted.

She put her head between her knees and closed her eyes, struggling to remember the breathing exercises the group home counselors had taught her, a soothing hand on her back, a gentle voice at her ear.

Just breathe. In…and out. That’s good. Memories can’t hurt you, Meadow. Breathe in…breathe out. You’re safe now….

She slowed her breathing, willing her racing heart to settle. As precious oxygen poured back into her lungs, her chest loosened and she felt the suffocating dregs of panic begin to recede.

Her mouth was dry and her skin was damp with sweat. Slowly she lifted her head to watch the blur of flickering headlights from passing cars.

From behind her, she heard her phone buzzing on the passenger seat.

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