When I was a little girl, I liked seashells a lot. Living by the shore made it an easy pastime. I had amassed a grand collection of seashells that Dad helped me weave into a net that hung on the wall above my bed. My favorite ones were the ones with tiny, unexplainable, needle-sized holes in them. I would slide strings through them and make jewelry for myself, my parents, and my stuffed animals.
Mom thought I might become a conchologist when I grew up — those who collect and study shells and the animals who call them home. I remember being fascinated with hermit crabs, in particular. How they used their shells as "houses" and would crawl out of one and into another whenever they outgrew it. I couldn't imagine being like a hermit crab when I was younger. The foreseeable future (which is about twenty-four hours in any direction for a small child, give or take) saw me as forever six years old, forever in the two-story house by the beach with my mom and my dad. Besides, I could never spend all of my time indoors like a hermit crab. I loved being outside way too much, despite the fact that Mom kept my fair skin positively doused in sunscreen at all times of the day, yet produce more freckles the sun always did.
I had a hermit crab for a pet once, and only once. His name was Mr. Noodle and he lived in a cage on my dresser and I collected lots of different houses for him. He slept a lot, but I liked to think that he was warm and happy in his shell. When he died, as pets do, I was devastated. It was my first encounter with death, but unfortunately not my last. We buried him in the backyard. Dad sang an off-key rendition of "Over the Rainbow" as I held on tightly to my mother's hand and sobbed. It was a very traumatic experience for all of us. My parents wouldn't let me bring any more oceanic pets home after that.
Eli calls me a chameleon, but what he doesn't see is that I'm actually a hermit crab. And I am incapable of evolving into anything greater until the death I've thus encountered is caught and put behind bars somewhere far, far away from me.
I thought Ian was the key to putting Gray behind bars. But had I known what was going to happen, I might not have accepted Ian's help so willingly.
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Chameleon ✔️
Mystery / ThrillerI have three secrets. 1. I'm in the witness protection program. I witnessed my mother's murder when I was eight years old, and now the murderer is after me. 2. I can read minds. Or not "read" them... not exactly. But I can feel them. Every emotion h...
