Forgotten

Chapter 17

        I STILL CAN'T GET USED TO THE LONELINESS.

        Ever since Liana left, it feels like there's a void in both the house and in my heart, threatening to swallow both Hayley and me in a sea of empty longing and a dull ache that settles at the bottom of our stomachs like a heavy stone.

            Every day, I wake up and feel the sickening pang of seeing the empty bed beside mine. I cook Hayley's breakfast on my own and send her off to school every morning, which leaves me completely alone in the house.

            I do the house and farm work that's meant for two, sweeping and mopping and cleaning and brushing and feeding and mucking and everything that Liana used to help me do. Then Hayley comes home from school, and we talk about her day, but not much. I think she feels it too—the silence in the house, so complete and consuming that it fills our ears just as well as noise.

            It goes on for weeks. Sleep, eat, work, and sleep again. The cycle goes on for so long that I can feel it boring down on us like a one-ton heavyweight.

            Then, on the morning exactly a week before our planned departure date, something happens.

            After sending Hayley off to school, I go outside to start on the farm work. I start with the chickens, unlatching their coops and letting them stretch their legs in the yard. As I scatter their feed in the grass, I start cooing to them. "That's it, Goldie. You okay? Looks like your legs are getting a bit stiff. Jenny, over here—over here, there's corn. Hey! Caesar! Stop chasing Popcorn."

            Suddenly, out of nowhere, there's a hand clamped over my mouth. I try to scream, dropping the corn feed in my hands, but the palm of my attacker muffles my cries for help.

            Then the intruder's grip loosens, and I stumble free, wiping my mouth on my sleeve. I turn around, ready to let loose a storm of furious curses. Then my jaw drops as I see who it is.

            Rowan.

            He smiles, not looking the least bit concerned or guilty about the fact that he put me in a headlock not ten seconds ago. "Surprised to see me?" he crows.

            "A bit," I reply sarcastically, glaring at him. "What the hell, Rowan?"

            He examines his fingernails, as infuriatingly indifferent as usual. "Sorry about that. I had to make sure you wouldn't scream."

            "How are you even here?" I ask, curiosity getting the better of me. "I thought you said you were going to disappear. It's past your eighteenth birthday, and if the bureaucrats find you here—"

            "They won't find me here." Rowan smiles. "'Sides, I've been hanging around here for days. Watching you."

            I gape at him. "Watching me? How?"

            "I have my ways. And your yard"—he gestures around to the small little plot of land—"has its fair share of nooks and crannies to hide in. Good for spying on people."

            "You're a creep." I pick up the half-empty bag of feed from the ground, where the chickens are pecking at it excitedly. "You know that?"

            Rowan laughs. "Seriously, though. I had to make sure you and Hayley were okay, and ready to make the trip next week."

            "Will you pipe down?" I shift uncomfortably. "Our house borders three others, you know."