Chapter Two: Rose
I never loosened my grip on the door handle the whole time he drove, which was a long time. He didn’t say much during the trip, only occasionally asking me a question about myself, which I didn’t answer with much detail. The nerves ricocheted inside of me the longer we drove, until at last we got to a nice looking neighborhood deep in the suburbs outside of the city. They were nice houses, none less than two stores high with clean cut grass and a garden.
We got to the last house on a dead end street when he stopped, and I undid my seat belt. I got ready to get out when he looked around and then hit the gas again, hopping the curb and driving into the thick forest that surrounded the subdivision. He did all of this despite the sign put up to the left of the worn trail that proclaimed the stop as a dead end and simply took off his sunglasses. He didn’t need them in the thick of the woods anymore.
“What are you doing?” I asked, trying to keep the panic out of my voice. My grip tightened doubly on the door handle, ready to jump out at any moment.
“I told you our house is outside of the city.” He said, confused.
“I thought you meant in a neighborhood outside of the city, where are you taking me?” I asked, and knew my voice was ripe with panic regardless of how I tried to keep it out.
“To our house. It’s only a little farther.” He said, and locked the doors.
I said nothing but was completely alert of everything around me, and completely panicked. My heart was beating harder inside my chest than seemed safe, and like the trees on either side of me, the life had left my now tingling legs.
The forest seemed old- much older than the community enveloped by it. The bark was old and broken, or nonexistent on the trees. Moss covered much of it, but even that was more brown than green. I only saw one squirrel, and nothing else. If the animals did not come in, I knew that I shouldn’t.
After one long curve, the house was in front of me. Like the ones outside of the woods, it was clearly nice and new. Three stories and no smaller than the others, though lacking a garden, it was nicer than anything I had ever seen inside the city. But it was not beautiful or nice to look at.
Like the forest, it was a dead house. Dirty windows and dirt seemed to be the first two things I saw when looking at it, and the driveway leading up to it was cracked and being overtaken by weeds. Long strands of long-dead ivy clung to the exterior and strangled any chance of life.
“Here we are! Oh, they aren’t back yet. Good.” The boy said, muttering the last few words to himself. That was the moment I should have run, but I didn’t. I was intrigued by the house, and it’s location. A morbid curiosity took over the sensible part of my brain that said I should have left.
“We can get you a key if you decide to stay with us. We don’t have any spare ones.” He said, walking up the steps. I walked quickly behind him, catching up after standing and staring at the battered structure. He said it as if I still had a choice, which gave me a bit of hope.
The first thing I noticed when I walked through the door behind him was the size of the house. Just seeing the front room was enough to know how large it was- much larger than it seemed on the outside. The front room was larger than both my sister’s and my own bedroom had been when I was younger, and the more we walked the more I saw. The staircase in between the front room and the living room wound up to another floor of similar expanse.
The second thing that I noticed was just how much they did need someone to pick up after them. Though not completely filthy, it was clear that the dark wood floors had not been swept nor scrubbed in months, dust piled up on an end table next the couch, and trash littered the coffee table. Deep purple curtains hung back against grimy windows, and as he led me into the kitchen I was tempted to turn around altogether, if the multiple bags of trash that had been put beside the still overflowing can, yet not taken outside, were anything to judge the rest of the house by.
“Home sweet home.” The boy said, and set his keys down next to a paper plate that may have once held pancakes, judging by the dark liquid pooled up around the edge.
I didn’t say anything, only glanced around once, taking in the light granite countertops that contrasted the dark cabinets and floors, and taking in the new appliances and decoration that had been picked out by someone other than them before meeting his gaze. He didn’t look remotely ashamed or uncomfortable. That feeling was perpetually reserved for myself.
“You can wash up if you like, and then I’ll take you on a tour.” He said. I nodded, and he walked out of the kitchen, going into another room I hadn’t been in yet. We walked through the stuffy study, past another set of stairs and then into a bathroom that was sparkling and spotless.
“It’s the guest bathroom, no one ever uses it.” He said, seeing my raised eyebrows.
“Take as long as you need, and just yell when you’re done.” He said, nodding once and closing the door.
“Wait! What’s your name?” I asked him, still clueless as to who the stranger even was.
“Philippe!” He yelled from behind the closed door.
I took off my clothes consciously and aware of every sound outside the door. Though the door had a lock on it, I still found a wicker linen basket and wedged it underneath the handle, making sure no one would barge in unexpectedly.
I turned the water on until it turned my hands bright red, nearly scalding. Though it was hot outside, it was cold inside the house, and I wanted to be rid of whatever I had picked up the last week walking downtown. Besides, the water completely relaxed my muscle and melted away the anxiety that had kept me charged for the last two hours.
I got out much later than I should have, but I couldn’t care. I wasn’t sure when the next time I would have a shower like that would be, since I still didn’t know who it was I was staying with. I put on my new clothes and then wiped off the condensation that had formed on the mirror. I looked like a completely different person.
My hair was three shades lighter, and my skin was clearer than I had ever seen it. Using my shampoo and their conditioner had gotten rid of all the tangles that usually held it together, and made it somewhat smooth. I put it into a braid, getting out a band from my dark brown bag I’d tried to hide the shampoo in earlier to hold my hair together.
After I couldn’t stand the steam any longer I put everything back in my bag and opened the door, expecting a blast of fresh air. Instead it was hotter even than it had been after my shower, and I immediately ran right into someone. It was not Philippe, as this boy had short, dark brown hair and tanner skin. His eyes flashed with anger and almost a tint of crimson, though I wasn’t too focused on those, as I was his face in general. Held together with a scowl and nostrils flared in anger, he glared down at me.
“Who the hell are you?”
