Page 2 of Alpha
As I stepped into my room, I felt calmness settle over me.
The only things that stood out in my bedroom were the four boxes at the foot of my bed. It would take me forever to get through them all.
We’d just moved into the house a couple of weeks before. The movers had sorted through all the other boxes. Initially, I’d been left with ten personal boxes and I’d only managed to unpack six of them in the last two weeks.
I decided to shower before I punished myself with the task of unpacking the remaining boxes. Normally, I would have gotten the movers to do it but the fact that they contained my personal items made it hands-off to anyone but me.
As I walked into my adjoining bathroom, I stripped off my gym clothes and threw them into the laundry basket. I turned on the shower and adjusted the water temperature as I got in.
I closed my eyes and savored the feel of the water running down my body. I was stalling, but the boxes wouldn’t unpack themselves.
Once I’d finished showering, I got out, determined to finish the unpacking in the next hour.
I changed into a pair of jeans and a shirt before I walked over to the boxes. There was another reason I’d been putting it off. Inside these boxes were memories of my parents.
Although they’d been gone for seven years, it still hurt to think about them, and how much of my life they’d missed. I swallowed hard, trying to keep memories of my grief at bay.
I still remembered the last time I’d seen them alive. They’d planned an evening out, leaving me home with the babysitter.
My mom had kissed me goodnight as she’d tucked me into bed. I closed my eyes for a moment as I remembered her warm and loving smell. God, I missed her.
My father had stood in the doorway.
“We’re going to be late,” he’d informed my mom as he’d walked into my room and stopped beside my bed.
“Night, princess,” he’d whispered gently as he’d kissed my forehead. I could still feel his lips on my face.
The thickness in my throat grew. My dad had given me the nickname princess.
As I’d clutched my childhood teddy, Norman, I’d watched them leave. That had been the last time I’d seen them alive. They’d gone out that night and they’d never returned.
The truth was that they hadn’t just died, they’d been murdered. And now, seven years later, their murder was still unsolved. Initially, the coroner had ruled it an animal attack but later it had been changed to unknown.
At a young age, I’d learned that life wasn’t guaranteed and that anyone could be taken away at any moment. This had pushed me to live my life to the fullest. It had also made me fiercely independent, and my need for control had grown.
It was one of the reasons I trained so hard, to keep fit and to be able to protect myself. I didn’t want to meet with the same fate that my parents had.
It also made me keep people at a distance. By being standoffish and cold, I kept people from wanting to get closer to me and kept myself from getting hurt.
I let myself wallow in the memories of my parents and their deaths for a few more minutes. Then I took a deep breath and released it as I opened the first box.
It contained photo albums of my parents. I didn't open any of them because it hurt too much to look at the photos and be reminded of what I was missing in my life.
All the big portraits of my parents, I had put into the attic. Someday, I hoped that I'd be able to display them in the house and look at them without feeling the heartbreaking loss of their deaths.
I was relieved when I finished unpacking the albums and I moved on to the next one. I was determined to finish by lunchtime. The next couple of boxes were filled with my personal books, which took forever to get through. By the last box—which was filled with clothes, like underwear and pajamas—I was tired and hungry.
All the boxes were now empty, although there were still items on my bed when I heard a knock on my door.
"Time for food," Gary announced through my closed door.
"I'm nearly done. I'll see you downstairs as soon as I'm finished," I replied, folding my silk pajama top.
"You’d better hurry up or there may not be any food left," he teased.
I just laughed in response.
I turned my concentration back to finishing up my unpacking. Once I was done, I felt relieved as I made my way downstairs to the kitchen. There was a massive dining room but I liked to eat at the table in the kitchen; it had a more casual atmosphere.
