𝑨𝒅𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒏𝒆 𝑺𝒕𝒚𝒍𝒆𝒔

     Immediately the Millers enter their car, I jump out of my sedan parked at a vantage point across the street. I sling the hoodie over my head, covering my short white blonde hair. Then I slide my hands into my pocket and walk farther away from my car to the garden. I get a familiar sensation as I near the house which had once belonged to me. I realize I’ve missed my old life. I’ve missed the woman I used to be. I’ve missed Adrienne Styles. I feel like an intruder on my property. Okay, I can’t say it’s my property anymore.

     I was pissed when I found out Jeff sold our house. The house I had spent years taking care of. This was my home. My sanctuary. Now it’s not mine anymore. But whose fault is that? I can’t blame anyone. I didn’t think I’d lose so much after faking my death.

     My memories came six months ago after I had awoken from the coma. I remembered what had caused our accident, and I couldn’t stop hating Jeff for betraying and lying to me. After I remembered the day the accident occurred, I wondered if Jeff was ever going to admit he cheated. So I played along with his charade, hoping and praying he’d tell me he cheated and with whom.

     But the longer I waited, the more it became apparent that he wasn’t going to admit to cheating on me. That’s when the thought occurred to me to fake my death. That way, I’ll finally be free from Jeff and his web of lies. I thought of hiring a private investigator to find out who Jeff was cheating on me with, but then it dawned on me that a private investigator would just squander my money and waste my time. Worst case scenario, he’d double-cross me and blackmail Jeff for extra money.

     I had to do it by myself. I know faking my death is lame and isn’t an excuse that justifies what Jeff did to me, but I did what I did. I know Adrienne Styles wouldn’t have done that. The problem is, I’m not Adrienne Styles. She died in that car accident. Ever since I woke up from the coma, I felt differently, reasoned differently, and saw the world differently. That’s when I knew Adrienne Styles was dead.

     I didn’t fake my death primarily to find out who Jeff cheated on me with. No! That was the least of the reasons. As I said, if I wanted to find out, I could’ve hired someone to do that for me and paid extra so I wouldn’t be double-crossed. I faked my death to start a new life, a life in which I wouldn’t be trapped in my memories. I wanted a fresh start, and I couldn’t have done that with Jeff. Not after what he did. Someone who hurt you once is capable of hurting you again, and again, and again. And I can’t let a person destroy me over and over. Once bitten, twice shy.

     I don’t hate Jeff. Neither do I hate Ella. I must admit I wanted to give them a taste of their medicine after discovering he cheated on me with Ella. Worse, they’re expecting a baby. Something I deprived Jeff of. Fatherhood. I started to think along the line that maybe I was the reason Jeff cheated because I didn’t want to have a baby, and he wanted a baby so badly. But we made that clear before we got married. I would give birth when I was ready, and he was fine with it.

     He promised to love and protect me. I wonder what made him renege on all his promises. Well, I must say Ella is beautiful, and perhaps he was charmed by her beauty. Whatever his reason for cheating was, I didn’t want to know then, and I don’t want to know now.

     About the man I saw behind that tree; apparently, he was just in my mind. He never existed. I didn’t make him up deliberately. After I faked my death, I started seeing him everywhere I went. In my apartment, shopping mall, café, restaurant. . .

     I knew I needed help, so I reached out to my friend who helped me faked my death. He introduced me to a therapist, Dr. Martin Luke. He explained that my hallucinations were the result of my brain trying to form new memories after suffering from both anterograde and retrograde amnesia. He said the man I was seeing wasn’t real, and that my brain was starting to arrange my memories in the chronological order in which they were formed, and at the same time forming new ones.

     I started therapy with him again. He prescribed some meds to help me sleep better and suppress my excessive anxiety. Three months later, I wasn’t seeing the man again.

     Finally, my memories were intact except for my soul. I decided to get on with my life as a new person. My friend helped me with that. I changed my first name to Lilian, maintaining my father’s surname Thompson. I didn’t want to ever forget about the people who truly cared about me and would never lie to me in a million years. That included Ms. Gillian, my sister, and my neighbors.

     Wondering how I could stage my death and leave behind all those nice people who placed a smile on my face? Truth is that I couldn’t. I came back to the neighborhood often just to look at them. I watched my funeral too. I watched the people who cared about me grieve. I watched Jeff cry like a baby, and I wanted to take back what I had done, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t return to my life as Adrienne Styles. By the time I realized I had made the biggest mistake of my life leaving behind nice people who cared about me, it was too late. Everyone thought I was dead, and there was nothing I could do other than let them believe the lie I formulated.

     My life came back to normal after I had the complete set of my memories. Just that I wasn’t Adrienne Styles anymore. I was Lilian Thompson. I was comfortably living my new life, thinking of moving into a different city when Sarah Miller came into the picture to thwart my plan. God, I wonder why Jeffrey sold the house to them. It was as though karma didn’t want me to live in peace when I had finally freed myself from the web of lies.

     Sarah started asking questions about me after she found my diary in the basement (another one of my biggest mistakes—leaving behind my diary). How did I know that? I bugged the lakehouse and hid cameras in the living room, kitchen, and bedroom. That’s how I found out Ella betrayed me. When I left to buy the binoculars, I had planned to visit the lakehouse too. I reasoned that if Jeff was cheating on me, the only convenient place he’d have met up with his mistress was our lakehouse. Imagine my surprise when I discovered Ella was the woman Jeff was cheating on me with.

     I remember walking into Dr. Martin’s office in tears. I trudged straight to the couch I always reclined on, plopped down, and cried my eyes out.

     After a while, I put myself together, looked at him, and said, “My husband cheated on me with my best friend.”

     “I’m sorry,” he said sympathetically. “What do you want to do?”

     I replied, “Hurt them.”

     “Why?”

     I shouted, “Isn’t it obvious?!” Then I sobbed and simmered down. After a while, I said slowly, “Because they hurt me.”

     “Is that what you really want?”

     “It’s a stupid question,” I retorted, stood up, and paced across his office, scattering his books while he sat there unperturbed and watched me as I unleashed my anger.

     “It’s not. You don’t want to answer because you know it is not a stupid question.”

     I cried, tears streaming down my face. I glanced away and said, “They betrayed me. They were supposed to be there for me, protect me and not hurt me.”

     “I know, but they didn’t, and it’s something you have to accept. You don’t want to hurt them. That’s not what you want.”

     My face puckered. “How do you know that isn’t what I want?”

     “Because if you had wanted to hurt them, you wouldn’t be sitting here telling me about it. You’d have acted on your own accord, following your heart to embark on the journey of revenge. But here you are, sitting right in front of me.

     “If you embark on the journey of revenge, you’ll go around and come back to square one. You’ll sit right on that couch, crying again to me.”

     I blinked back the tears. “How do I cope?”

     “Your heart wants revenge, but what does your mind tell you? You have a new identity now. You can either be Lilian Thompson or embark on the journey of revenge, then become someone you wouldn’t even recognize.”

     I looked at him. I knew he was right, but it was difficult to accept that my husband cheated on me with my best friend, and I just had to let it go, as though it never happened.

     I did that eventually. And I’m glad I didn’t give in to the temptation to make Ella and Jeff pay for what they did. Revenge is futile. I’m realizing it now. Even if I had succeeded in seeking my revenge, it wouldn’t have alleviated the pains I felt. Time did.

     Now back to Sarah. She wanted to prove badly that someone murdered me, and I knew I had to do something to keep my secret hidden. I sent her those threatening notes, along with the picture of her family to scare her. Of course, I never intended to hurt her or her family. I see myself and Jeff in Sarah and her family. She’s a reminder of the family Jeff and I could have had if everything hadn’t turned upside down.

     But it didn’t scare her. She’s a tough woman, I must give her that. I don’t know why my diary got to her so much that she wanted to investigate my suicide. I kept track of her moves and even hired someone to give her a terrible scare one night. I don’t know if it worked, but even if it didn’t, I’m here to tie up all loose ends so that I can finally close the story of Adrienne Styles. She’s gone, and her diary should be with her.

     I pass across the lawn to the backyard. I know I’m risking so much breaking into someone’s house. I’m not afraid somebody might see me and recognize me. I’ve perfectly disguised myself. I shortened my long hair and made a pixie cut after I went off the grid, then dyed it white-blonde. I went to the gym regularly and lost enough weight to maintain a lithesome body. I wear contact lenses often, especially when I’m leaving my apartment.

     No one will easily recognize me unless they take a very close look, and I don’t allow anyone to watch my face. I hide it with sunglasses or a cap when I leave home. I know that very soon I won’t have to disguise myself anymore. I’ll freely walk around as Lilian Thompson without any fear of being recognized as Adrienne Styles. The moment is after I’m done putting my past behind me.

     That’s why I need to get my diary and destroy it. I realize now that I shouldn’t have listened to Dr. Hassan and kept a diary. It’s only giving me trouble when I’m trying to avoid one.

     I sneak into my garden, having no time to admire the place. It doesn’t look the same to me anymore. Bringing out a bobby pin from my purse, I near the backdoor, grab the knob, and slide the pin into the lock. I learnt a few tricks when I was in hiding, like breaking into homes and stealing cars, but I’ve never put them to practice till now. I apply a little torque. The lock clicks and the door creaks open.

     Girding myself, I replace the bobby pin and bring out my handgun. My hand wavers as I grip the handle. My friend Robert taught me how to fire a gun. I’ve had a series of lessons with him, and I still haven’t mastered how to hold it properly. I don’t plan to use it though. I don’t even know why I brought it along with me. When I start my new life, I’ll surely have to discard it.

    .My gun lowered, I walk briskly across the short hallway, passing by the kitchen to the living room, the silence of the entire house palpable. I have no idea where Sarah would’ve kept my diary. My only option is to search the house for it, narrowing it down to the bedroom and the study.

     I check the study first, placing my best guess that’s where she’d have kept it. Satisfied there’s no one in the house, I put my weapon aside and rummage through the drawers. Nothing there.

     Sighing softly, I move to the shelves, my light footsteps echoing in the house. I look through the books arranged across the shelves carefully, but I don’t find my diary.

     I’m sure she didn’t keep it here. I rearrange the books before leaving the study and entering the bedroom. I look around the room that had once been my bedroom. I’m an intruder in my bedroom. My eyes become watery at the thought, but I quickly blink back the tears. No time for reminiscing.

     Snapping out of it, I walk toward the nightstand, crouch over, and open the first drawer. There it is, lying covered with cards and items. It’s a lousy place to store someone’s diary, but I’m glad she didn’t keep it hidden. I’d have had a hard time searching for it.

     I take it out and walk swiftly out of the room, bounding down the staircase. As soon as I land, I see the knob of the front door rotating. They couldn’t be back so soon. Quickly, I run into the kitchen and hide behind the door.