Page 11 of Traces of Her

Seven

ROWENA

THE SMELL FROM THE BURNING house sticks to my clothes and my hair. Pieces of skin sprinkled over my shoulder and down my back bubble and sting from the air outside. The adrenaline still rushes throughout my body, masking the pain from my burns. When my feet hit the sidewalk, I break off into a sprint down the street. I stop every few seconds, coughing from the lingering pollution in my lungs. Eventually, I get to where I’m going. I stop on the front porch, staring at the door ahead of me. Slowly, I raise my hand, making a fist and knock on the door of Rowena’s childhood home.

My old home.

A young woman with hair the color of strawberries opens the door in confusion. She stares at me, her eyes filled with worry. I forgot it’s the middle of the night and I probably look like a total shit show.

“Are you okay?” she asks frantically. “Jerry, get down here!” she calls out.

I raise up a shaky hand. “I’m fine. I’m just looking for the Petrovs,” I say, quietly.

Her brow furrows and she frowns. “Do you mean the old owners?” she asks, perplexed.

My worst fear is true. They don’t live here anymore.

I nod.

“I’m so sorry,” she says with sad eyes. “They were both killed in a terrible car accident… it’s been about six years now.”

Staring at her, my jaw drops in disbelief. They’ve been dead this entire time and not one word was ever spoken of it. I never got to say good-bye to them, they never were able to find me. Tears quickly flood my eyes, my vision blurs as I hold back a sob.

They were good people thrown into a shitty world. Wherever they are now, they have to be better off than they were here.

Swallowing the lump that had formed in my throat, I give her a curt nod and walk back down the steps. “Thank you,” I say quietly over my shoulder.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she calls out. “My husband is a doctor, we can help you.”

“I’ll be okay,” I whisper. “Have a good night,” I say, walking back down the street.

I make sure to stay in the shadows as I walk down the streets of the neighborhood. Sirens blare a few streets away from Maggie’s house. I briefly wonder whether or not Janet got out, but I push the thoughts from my mind as quickly as they appeared. None of that matters anymore; it’s irrelevant and in the past. As far as anyone knew, I fell off of the face of the earth and was never at their house. This could not only be freedom, but my start to a new life.

My parents were gone. Just as quickly as I had vanished, they were taken from me before I had a chance to come back to them. They were gone and I was never going to get them back. Reality punches me directly in the chest, stealing the air from my lungs. I am truly alone.

I roam down the streets until I find myself wandering out of the suburbs and into the city. It’s a nice evening, so the city is fairly busy, with cars honking and people laughing down the sidewalks. My brain is in a haze and my mind is numb to the sensory overload from the city. The emptiness inside me knows no fear, no panic, no love. It only knows survival.

Still in a haze, I’m on constant alert, taking in my surroundings and assessing every person in my space. I walk within the crowds, hoping to blend in, but it’s not my scene. I’m homeless and I even look the part now. I don’t blend in with these crowds, I stick out like a sore thumb.

I spot a gas station and quickly stop in there, going into the bathroom. The person in the mirror, I don’t even know her. Her eyes are hardened and cold, the blue so clear they’re like ice. My black clothes hide any smoke or dirt, except for the spots where I was burned. I’ll need to find a shirt or something somewhere that I could snag. I wash the dirt and smudges from my face, revealing my clear, porcelain skin. Grabbing my hair, I try my best to wipe the dirt from the long white strands. It mainly smears throughout, giving a silvered look, but I look less homeless.

I allow myself one last look, meeting my hollow eyes in my reflection.

I survived the past six years.

And I survived the resurrection of Rowena Petrov.

After leaving the gas station, I wander around aimlessly, carefully navigating the streets. I stand at a crosswalk, waiting for the sign to signal for me to walk across. A group of kids, not much older than me walk up behind me and stand, waiting. I try to tune them out, talking about a party or something. Growing more impatient and annoyed, I take a chance and sprint across the street. “Wait!” one of the girls yells as the oncoming traffic nearly misses me. Drivers honk their horns at me, and I laugh, a hollow emotionless laugh.

“Girl, you are fucking nuts!” the one girl with blonde hair exclaims.

One of the guys nods, his black hair moving around. “I thought for sure they’d be scraping you off the road.”

I smile and chuckle to myself.

“Can we please fucking go now?” one of the other girls chimes in.

They slowly start moving around me, filing back down the road. The girl with the fire hair hangs back, looking over her shoulder at me. “You goin’ to Charlie’s?” she asks.

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