Chapter 18

By the time I climbed to the fifth floor and unlocked the door, the familiar old scent washed over me. Everything inside remained exactly the same.

Beside the old television sat my mother’s framed portrait. The candle in front of it had burned out. I replaced it with a new one, tied on an apron, and stepped into the kitchen.

Soon, a table of food was ready. The bowl across from me was still empty, just as it had been for years. I didn’t have much appetite myself and ate slowly.

“Mom, I ran into Wesley today,” I said softly, as though reporting to someone who could still hear me.

“Don’t worry. He can’t hurt me anymore. I’m much smarter than before.”

Only silence answered me. I set down my fork and walked into the bedroom to pull out an old photo album.

“Let’s look at you when you were young. It’s better than those stiff black-and-white pictures.”