I was more ready than ever to just chill out. Not completely stop moving around, of course, because that would probably be unavoidable until I died. But what Max had said earlier ended up getting to me almost a week later, and no matter how much I tried swatting the idea away, it would always come back even stronger; I was tired.

Oh, Jeff, you're always tired—yeah, cut the crap and just listen. I was beginning to feel just as sick of this life as he was, though I still couldn't tell exactly what was going on in his head after all this time. I wasn't halfway close to admitting that to him; he could survive without another one of his little victories for now. But neither of us were prepared for that harsh pull back into his past, just waiting for us at the end of an old street.

We turned a corner, deep into the avenues of some quiet town. The sidewalk was uneven, cobbled together from ten different kinds of stone and concrete; all the cracks and sinkholes in the road made me wonder how anybody was expected to get five feet from their home in an automobile. The strangest part was, almost every house that we passed was a decent size, freshly painted, and seemingly brand-new. I guessed that either these citizens were all sound sleepers at night or nobody actually lived here, because when we made our visit there were no signs of life, and no light but the moon's.

"I think it's about time we stop resting one night at a time in random places that no one thinks to go. What do you say we try upgrading to one of these?" I said eventually, drumming my fingers against the wood of a particularly old and frail house. It was one of the few we could find that didn't look like it had popped straight out of a Barbie catalog. Max sighed; I hadn't seen him look this defeated since we first left the base. He kept looking around like this place was just a little too familiar to him.

"You know we can't do that. Didn't you say last week that—"

"And I'm not going back on it. I'm saying that we could spend a couple of nights here, avoid any suspicion, maybe get ourselves a new travel kit with whatever's inside. We'll be living there, but we won't be living there, if you get me."

"...fine. But can we look around a little more before settling anywhere, even if it's only for a few days? There's something off about this neighborhood, I just need to..."

His hands started to shake, though I didn't think he even noticed it. Something wasn't sitting right with me, either, but I wasn't about to say it. I shrugged and gave him a doubtful sideways glance before saying, "Sure. But I'm already pretty partial to this old beauty right here." I patted the cracked wall affectionately, knowing full well that using the word "beauty" to describe this house was a stretch. Max fiddled with his hair tie (the hair was so long he didn't have to reach back far) as he looked around the corner.

"Hey, come look at this, Hodek," he said, waving me forward. I tried following his line of sight, but all I could see was a giant hedge wrapping around what I could only assume was another house's backyard. I raised my eyebrows.

"Wow, a bunch of leaves."

"They look too new. They weren't there before."

"What are—you mean, they just appeared five minutes ago?"

He turned his head, but he still wasn't looking at me. "No, I...I know this place. I don't know where I know it from, but..."

"Let's go in."

"What."

"You said we could look around! Besides, it doesn't seem like anyone even lives here. I want to see what's on the other side, just for a second."

I sighed. "Okay, okay. I guess we have a lot of time, anyway."

He practically dove into a spot in the hedge where the branches were just wide enough to fit a body, and didn't bother waving me over. I followed, still with some reluctance but mostly out of curiosity. If he really did know this place, somehow, maybe something interesting was waiting for us there.

[MASQ]

As we fought our way through the bushes, I saw more and more of the back of another old house peeking out from the other side. Its wood was rotting, the paint was almost completely faded but I recognized every square inch. My heart stopped, and so did I. Hodek nearly ran into me from behind.

"Why'd you stop?" he half-whispered. I blinked and slowly turned around to face him.

"Hodek...look me in the eye and tell me one thing."

"What?"

"Tell me I haven't traveled in a circle."

He seemed to understand immediately. His face sobered a significant amount, and he stared ahead, silent, at my old house. The house that I was dragged back to seven years ago when my family had been discovered. The house my so-called "parents" died in.

After what felt like forever, I took one step forward and then another. It was taking all of my strength just to look at this place again. Ivy and moss had conquered almost half of its structure, it was impossible to believe that anybody could be residing here now. Without another word, I opened the back screen door, dirt crumbling to the ground as its hinges squeaked in protest. Cobwebs filled the corners so thickly, you wouldn't be able to tell if the walls had been repainted by looking at them. I coughed on dusty air, continuing into the living room. The windows had been boarded up, although if you put your face about an inch from them you could look out into the yard through a tiny crack between the wood.

I saw a sign posted just a couple feet from the sidewalk that read, "For Sale."

For Sale.

My pulse started racing again, and I could almost feel the color retreat from my face. Why would they sell this place? Who would want to buy it? How long had that been there?

I turned and jumped at the sight of Hodek standing directly behind me with his usual stony expression. He seemed to realize that he'd frightened me yet showed no signs of sympathy this time. It looked like he wanted to say something, but every time he opened his mouth nothing would come out. I gazed around the room, everything falling into place the more I tried remembering. I could almost make out a faint white outline on the floor. An outline of a dead body. I didn't question it; besides, I already knew where the other one lay.

—

At 19 years old, I'd been digging pills from the bottom of fluorescent orange bottles routinely. It had been almost three years since I was sent back to my parents and I hated every second of it. Even when my sister visited from college during my first summer "home," I felt nothing. My parents insisted that I get a haircut; after all those years, it'd grown almost 3 feet. Finally, I forced a grin and politely declined, "No, I kind of like it this way."

That was a lie. I loved it that way.

Aggressive thoughts and tendencies towards them had only been intensifying, and every day with the little time I was allowed online I would search the names of various people I trusted. No helpful results came up, only generic Facebook accounts and requests to schedule events from the Calendar app.

Maybe if I'd spent all of my life truly believing that they were my family, I would have been content. But I couldn't live like this. Not after everything I'd seen.

I was in the kitchen when it finally happened.

"Max, I'm going out. Remember to take your medicine," my mother called from upstairs. She absolutely refused to call them meds, probably for fear of sounding too harsh. As she walked downstairs, something clicked in my brain. I saw my mask sitting on the kitchen counter, and immediately grasped for it. Digging through drawers and cabinets, I pulled out a roll of sharp twine, feeling the roughness between my fingers. This will do nicely, I thought, my heart pounding with fear and hatred.

When "mom" made for the front door, what she was met with was a blue mask and a long piece of rope wrapped tightly around her neck.

While she laid at my feet, I recalled what I'd overheard one day from outside the psychiatrist's office.

"I would cut my legs off to help him."

Re-opening a drawer, I snatched a pair of wickedly sharp pliers and took off my mother's left sock and shoe. I ran one of the blades roughly across her ankle, drawing blood.

I wasted no time in fulfilling her promise after that.

Gazing contentedly at the grotesque mess in front of me, I thought, Thank you, "mom." Maybe you did help me after all.

They were never my parents. They were liars and criminals who never really cared about me. I wondered why I had to keep reminding myself of that.

I wondered why once they were both gone, I couldn't help but feel like I was about to cry.

A strange resentment began to rise in me towards the "For Sale" sign in the front yard, worn and dirty from years of standing there. I didn't move when Hodek placed a hand on my shoulder, and I didn't budge when he pulled on my arm to leave.

Why do I want to stay? None of this matters anymore. I've already found my real family.

I squeezed my eyes shut, then opened them again.

And even they weren't enough. Can I trust anyone? Anyone besides—

"Max. I...I think I know what's going on here, but we really need to go. There's nothing for us here."

"Maybe not for you," I said without thinking. He looked taken aback, and I probably would have been, too. After a brief moment of silence, I straightened my collar and cleared my throat.

"...I mean, I think we should try and see if we can find anything useful. Since it hasn't been completely cleared out, i-it's just common sense to look through the place."

"Are you even going to tell me what happened here?"

I froze, then started forward into the kitchen without another word. Twine, I thought. I definitely don't have enough twine on me right now.