As we pull back up to the house, it's approaching 7:00 PM. On the way, I coordinated a few details with Margharet about my new identity. From now on, she's my distant aunt who agreed to take me in after my parents died in a car accident. That's the story I'm supposed to tell anyone who asks.

Margharet parks the car in the driveway, so I unfasten my seatbelt and step out of the car into the fresh air. I clasp my fingers around the lighter, knowing exactly what I need in this moment before I go inside and meet the rest of the family.

"Let me stay here for five minutes and clear my head," I say to Margharet, offering her a smile. She nods in agreement and leaves me alone in front of the grand house.

I light a cigarette and sit on the curb, allowing myself to unwind and clear my thoughts. I gaze at the orange sky, admiring the tree crowns gently swaying in the wind.

Suddenly, I hear the door behind me shut with a click, so I turn around to see what's happening. In front of me stands Margharet's son. His silhouette, as powerfully built as before, marches angrily toward the car. He catches my attention abruptly, his eyes filled with anger fixed on me. For a moment, I forget how to breathe. Such anger in someone's eyes never bodes well. So, I lower my gaze to my hands, trying to comprehend what's happening.

"So, you're the new house member, huh?" His voice is filled with irony? anger? I can't quite decipher it.

I lift my gaze, but only to his chest.

"Yes," I manage to mumble.

"Just moved in, and you've already screwed things up for me. Fantastic." He says the last word with so much sarcasm that I don't know how to respond. He grabs the door handle, opens the door, and gets into his car. After a moment, he speeds away with screeching tires. I sit on the curb for a while longer, trying to figure out if it's really that bad with me or with him.

Well, nothing like a good first impression.

Finally, I stand up, dust off my pants, and go inside. What a jerk, I think.

"Ashley, we're in the living room," a voice comes from deep inside the house. I kick off my shoes in the hallway and head to the living room, where I find Margharet setting the table and her little daughter, I presume, playing on the carpet near the sofa.

"Mia, this is Ashley, say hello nicely," Margharet chimes in. The girl gets up from the floor and with her eyes fixed on me and a wide smile, she approaches me. I crouch down to her level, and she runs over to me. I return her smile. She extends her hand to introduce herself, so I do the same and shake her tiny hand. What a wonderful little person. I stand up, and at the same moment, a tall man enters the living room from the kitchen. He's wearing a pale pink floral apron tied around his neck, which looks quite funny.

"Oh, Ashley, finally," he says, wiping his hands on the apron. "I'm Henryk, nice to meet you."

"Likewise," I announce, extending my hand to him. Henryk shakes it gently, looking me over.

"I hope you're hungry because I've been slaving away in the kitchen for quite a while," he says over his shoulder as he returns to the kitchen.

"Ashley, please, take a seat. We'll join you in a moment," Margharet says.

"Um, maybe I could help somehow?" I inquire.

Margharet straightens up and looks around.

"You can help bring some food from the kitchen if you'd like," she smiles at me.

I nod, then head to the kitchen. The air is filled with a delicious aroma, and I immediately feel how hungry I am. I take a bowl of salad and a pitcher of water before bringing them to the table. Henryk brings the meat and potatoes, and then we all sit down to eat.

"Bon appétit," Mia says, and we all respond. She really is a walking ray of sunshine.

"Well, Ashley, I heard you went shopping with Margharet today. How was it? Did she wear you out?" Margharet's husband jokes.

"It was very nice spending time with Margharet. But I have to admit, trying on clothes and going around stores wore me out a bit," I reply.

"I understand. I know all about that. My wife is a professional at it and has proven it to me more than once."

During the meal, my attention is drawn to an empty place setting where no one is sitting.

"So, where did your son go, if I may ask?" I inquire curiously.

"Xavier? I have no idea. Probably went to see his girlfriend, Steffanie. Or whatever she is to him," Margharet replies tersely.

"Before he left, he said he had it tough because of me..." I say, mashing the potatoes on my plate with a fork. I feel guilty, though I'm not sure why. I don't like causing trouble.

"Really? Oh my God, I apologize for him, Ashley." Margharet sets her utensils down on her plate and looks at Henryk, then at me. "I simply told him to behave himself and not bring anyone home overnight for the next few days. Don't take his words to heart. He can be... a bit explosive. That's all."

I nod, making a mental note to keep my distance from him.

After hours of getting settled, I finally finish. I stand in the middle of the room, hands on my hips, and look around. The previously empty closet is now filled with new clothes. New books and decorations line the shelves. The desk is stocked with new school supplies, and the bathroom is stocked with a variety of cosmetics and other items I didn't even know existed. Margharet really spent a lot of money today. At first, I didn't feel comfortable with it, but she insisted, saying it was important.

Suddenly, a knock distracts me. I turn around and realize someone is knocking on the door of the room. Asking for permission to come in? But this is their house, after all.

"Come in," I say softly, not sure if that's the right thing to say.

Finally, the door opens, revealing Margharet.

"I just wanted to wish you goodnight. We're going to bed now. And if you need anything, feel free to wake me up." She sends me a friendly smile, which I try to return. "And make yourself at home," she adds, then closes the door.

At last, I grab a clean towel and head to the bathroom. I turn the key in the lock, then peel off the new clothes and neatly fold them into a stack. I turn on the water, and as the bathtub slowly fills, I carefully comb through my new blond hair. I stand before the large mirror for a moment, studying my reflection. The girl on the other side isn't familiar to me. Her body bears the same scars, her bones are as visible as mine, and her mind harbors just as many monsters as mine does, yet she doesn't look like me. Elizabeth Collins. Or rather, Ashley McKenzie. I no longer know what I should call myself. Ashley or Elizabeth? I sigh, run my fingers through my hair, and turn on the water. I step into the tub; the water is a little too hot against my skin, but I get used to it after a while. I pour a bit of strawberry-scented bath liquid into my hand and spread it over my body. Over the scraped skin, bruises, scars, and still-healing wounds, hoping they'll disappear as soon as possible, giving me a chance to forget.

* * *

I wake up to a heavy weight crushing my body. I slowly open my eyes and immediately regret it. Jackson's hands roam over my body, barely conscious. The stench of alcohol irritates my nostrils, while his touch practically burns my skin. He mutters some curses under his breath, then suddenly lifts his gaze to me. He's under the influence of something strong. His pupils are huge. I can't even see his irises.

"I know you want this," he hisses through clenched teeth, gripping my thigh.

I shake my head in denial, struggling to make any sound.

"You want it. You're just like your mother. And you'll end up just like her," his voice rises, then he grabs my hair and yanks hard.

I beg him to stop, but he doesn't. I start screaming as tears stream down my cheeks, but he quickly silences me with his disgusting hand. As he reaches for my pajama pants, I summon strength and push him away. Jackson falls to the floor, hitting it hard. I quickly run to the bathroom and slam the door behind me. I don't even have time to lift my gaze; I just rush to the toilet and start vomiting. My whole body trembles uncontrollably. As I empty my stomach, I wipe my mouth with my hand and flush the toilet. I approach the sink and lean against it. My sobbing becomes hysterical, and I feel like I'm on the brink of breaking down. I want to be strong, but I can't. For a long time now, I haven't been able to imagine my future. For a long time, I haven't wanted to live this life. I don't want to, I can't.

Suddenly, Jackson starts pounding on the door. Fear paralyzes my body. I step back, leaning against the wall, sliding down to the floor.

I don't want this anymore! I've had enough!

"You bitch, open that door!"

I say nothing, just shake my head in refusal.

"I'll get to you anyway, and then you'll regret being born."

I regret it already...

Suddenly, Jackson manages to force the door open. He bursts into the bathroom, aggression coursing through his veins, and grabs me roughly by the hair.

"Please! Stop!" I scream, beg, but it's in vain. No one hears me. I close my eyes. "No! Stop! Please!" The air struggles to fill my lungs. "Please," I mumble, tears streaming down my face. Finally, silence surrounds me. Cold sweat covers me, and my body burns. I can't control my crying. I slowly open my eyes, taking a moment to realize that I'm alone in the room. The pain in my chest doesn't give up, so I cover my face with my hands and start crying. It's over now; I try to calm myself.

Once I finally calm down, I slide the blanket off and get out of bed. My feet touch the icy floor, sending a shiver through me. I take a deep breath and open the door as quietly as I can, not wanting to wake anyone. My eyes gradually adjust to the darkness, and suddenly I see a tall figure standing about two meters away. I don't move, and I think I'm not even breathing out of sheer terror.

"Are you okay?" a voice asks, a voice I've heard before. Margharet's son?

"Xavier?" I ask, slightly taken aback.

"Yes, it's me." I see his silhouette take a step toward me. "Did you have a bad dream? I heard you calling something in your sleep, and... crying..."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," I say, looking around the room.

"You didn't wake me up; I just got back home. Are you sure everything's okay?"

I lift my gaze to his face, which is enveloped in darkness. I can't see his eyes, but I feel his gaze on me.

"Yes, everything is fine." I force a smile automatically, even though he can't see it. After a moment of silence, I cover my shoulders with my hands, walk past the guy, and head to the kitchen to get a drink.

When I return upstairs, fortunately, the guy is gone. I enter the room, but I can't muster the courage to lie down in bed again, so I take out my notebook and grab a pencil. I allow my emotions to flow onto the blank page, waiting for the safety that comes with the sunrise.