Lauren Sanders is struggling to rebuild her life with her aunt and cousin after her family's tragic death. But what no one knows is the truth about two things: how her parents really died and her battle with schizophrenia.
One day, Lauren stumbles...
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5020 Ashberry Road, Carlsbad, California.
The following note is just 10 minutes away. My mom's painting was ten minutes away. I look over at Aaren, singing along to the radio while looking at his phone, displaying Google Maps, which also direct us to our destination.
I gaze out the window, wandering a place that sits within my imagination and wondering what does Elise want me to do after collecting all of the eleven notes she has written. Was it even supposed to be there in the first place? Maybe it's for my mother to find out, but instead of her finding out, I discovered it, or perhaps it found me.
December 11th. I'll never forget Elise's death on December 11th. How could I possibly forget that? December should be a month of joy and love, not a month of mourning, weeping, and remembering the worst memories.
"We're here," Aaren parks the car then switches the radio off after. He turns the keys, pulling them from the ignition.
"It's that house," He points at the house outside on my side of the window.
I stare at him, and he stares back at me. I step out of the car with ease, standing in the scorching sun, squinting my eyes as I look at the house just a few feet away.
From the outside, it appears to be an average four-person family home. It's nearly identical to Clarissa's house, but Clarissa's was slightly larger. As he jogs towards my side, I turn around and wait for Aaren to lock the car.
"Let's go," He says as I tail behind him.
Before ringing the doorbell, he pokes his head through the window to see if anyone is nearby. We both stood up appropriately when we heard the doorbell ring.
"Are you sure this is the right house?" I ask Aaren.
The door swings open before Aaren can even respond. "How can I help you two?" an elderly lady asks, beaming.
"My name is Aaren Walters, and this is Lauren Sanders," he says. As Aaren points at me, I smile at her. "I sent you a message on Facebook about the painting you posted and said I could drop by?"
"Ah, yes," the old lady says, nodding her head. "You wanted to buy the painting?" she asks.
I look at Aaren, squinting my eyes, "Nnn-Yes...?" He says, sounding obviously unsure.
I mouthed to Aaren, "I thought she wasn't selling it," and he shrugged his shoulders in response to my question. "Would you mind if I looked at it before buying the painting?" Aaren inquires softly, continuing to smile at the elderly woman.
She nods and takes a step to the side of the door, motioning for both of us to enter. After stepping inside, I follow Aaren, while Aaren follows the elderly woman. She looks around as she guides us up the stairs and says, "I'm Emilia." Do you enjoy art buying as well?"
The home exuded warmth from the front door to the spacious hallway. Photographs of two teenage girls adorned the walls. The floor was an old-fashioned porcelain tile with a rich color grey and brown mix that resembled marbled, and the ceilings were painted a soft yellow with a bold white baseboard.
