Noelle

Chapter 1

I have died many times this year.

There are moments when I think she loves me again... and then something reminds her.

I am drowning.

A month has passed since I walked through our front door for the last time. I have spent exactly thirty nights curled up alone in the dark, my arms wrapped around my chest as if to hold it all together.

But there's a growing crack in me. There is a void that has begun to weigh heavy on my bones.

I don't know when exactly I stopped crying each and every time I think of her, and I can't recall the last time that I thought about going back.

There is a fire burning somewhere deep inside of me.

Never again.

And so here I am: standing in the checkout aisle of the old grocery store – the only one to be found for miles in any direction.

The fact that I am here is a miracle, really. Something told me that I wouldn't make it. That would be too easy.

My feet have been crammed into a pair of thrift store sneakers, and as for my general outlook on life... it's as grey as the clouds that have been hovering over this town.

My eyes meet those of the red-haired high school girl in front of me. She watches me with wide eyes and I realize I've just been standing here for God knows how long staring off into space. I suddenly remember why I'm here and immediately wish I hadn't.

"It's for my neighbor," I explain, knowing all too well that it sounds just absurd enough to be real.

The cashier nods, continuing to eye the obscenely large pile of wintergreen gum skeptically. I don't blame her, of course. Even I can't get over the sheer size of it.

Despite the insanity of the situation, it's the truth. This massive pile of rubber and aspartame is for the elderly woman who lives next door. I had the pleasure of meeting her just a few days after moving in. She reeks of floral perfume and spews insults about anyone and everyone from Pine Lake, a small town just north of here.

How she can chew it and why she needs so much in the first place, I have no idea. From what I've seen the woman is a bit lacking in the tooth department. Regardless, I don't ask too many questions.

Besides practically buying the small grocery store out of their gum supply I've also picked up a few other things for the woman referred to by the locals as Ms. Greta. The list is scrawled in a messy cursive that even I've found difficult to make out.

I just want this to work. It has to. I haven't come all this way just to end up worse off than I've been. Especially when it seems that gossip has a way of spreading quickly through the small town of Aspen, Montana.

I hand the girl a wad of cash and grab the bag, hooking it in the crook of my arm so I can stuff my hands into the pockets of my jacket. The fall air is sharp against my bare skin. The dull sting it leaves behind is a reminder that I am not immune to pain. I never have been.

"If you leave now, you are never coming back. This door stays closed."

I lift my face to the sky, the breeze a dull flame on my cheeks.

"You are just like your father."

The memory of the last words my mother spoke to me is a dull blade, much like the animosity that began radiating from her long before I knew what was beginning to take form.