I don't know the last time I ate. I think...two days ago, maybe. My stomach feels cavernous, my eyes are two holes of pitch.

I never sleep. I couldn't, even if I wanted to. When the Shadowman arrives, he stays from dusk to dawn. When I look in the mirror, I look just like the things in my closet (which is duct-taped shut).

Stairs terrify me. I've got a flashlight, always on, clipped to my belt. I need to get out of this place.

My parents tell me to go outside. They say as a teenager, I left my childhood too soon.

I disagree. I never escaped.

Outside, the sun burns my skin, blinds my eyes. It's like lightning, but it's constant. There's no telling when it will turn off. And the shadows it spills from porch steps and trees are only darker.

Cars whoosh in the distance, a police siren whizzes by. My breath is quiet, muffled. Something moves in the corner of my eye, slowly slides above the fence, then slowly retreats.

I shrug off my shoes. Pad along the concrete stones, dip my heels in the grass. And sink to my knees.

There's something looking at me, between the lines of the fence.

No, it's not real. Fight it.

I stand and step forward, boosting up on the mesh seat of a chair and peering over to the neighbours.

Tomato garden. Shed. Grass curling from neglect.

I step down.

There's a sliver, between the wooden boards. It's blueish, there.

I stand back up, glance around. Shouldn't be. There's nothing covering it.

"Hey, Ansley!"

I push myself up.

"Hi, Mr. Fern." Mr. Fern's got a green bucket hat and a stainless steel shovel.

I scratch my cheek. "Whatcha doing there?"

"Planting seeds."

My face drifts to the garden, where every inch is crammed with succulent tomato plants.

Mr. Fern smiles at my look, eyes unmoving from my face.

I drum my hands on the fence. "Okay, then."

"Okay. See you later, Ansley."

"Mmhm."