text: Content Warning: Gore, themes of abuse I rounded the corner in a white Honda Civic. It wasn’t mine. I mean, I guess it was now. The corner had turning restrictions but only on weekdays in the mornings and afternoons for children walking home from school. It was well past 4:00 PM, so I made the turn on red. Main street was bustling. Food trucks lined the streets offering everything from tacos to lobster rolls. People gathered en masse for some of the trucks, while others seemed less popular. The barbecue wings were slaughtering the vegan ones. Stringed lights hung over the street, winding left and right in a zig-zag pattern as far as I could see. Music came from the gazebo. It sounded light-hearted and fun, likely a local band. This was nothing like the town I’d lived in only two years ago. Don’t get me wrong. It was the same town; White Hill, Connecticut. Before I left, however, it was a sleepy town. People didn’t know one another, and they preferred it that way. I knew more people than most because I was the cashier at our only liquor store. People knew me by name and were nice to me because I had something they craved. It’s what we considered a position of power. Back then, my town had few restaurants, one sticky local bar, no festivals, and certainly no string lights over Main Street. I found a parking lot behind a microbrewery. I wanted to fully experience what my town had become. I approached the lobster roll food truck. The line stretched on for miles. The drive to town was long, and my stomach was eating itself from the inside out. I was pretty sure that I hadn’t been on the east coast in a while. I knew that I hadn’t had a lobster roll in a while, so the wait felt worth it. I felt like I could treat myself anyway. I had a wallet full of money that wasn’t mine burning a hole in my pocket. Might as well live it up. Taking it all in, I realized that the curly blonde hair in front of me looked familiar. Lauren was our town’s only preschool teacher which made her our liquor store’s best customer. “Lauren?” I called out. She spun around, but her smile faded when she saw my face. “Lauren Winters,” I confirmed. “It’s Megan.” I watched her rack her brain. I’d been through a lot in the last two years, but my look was more or less the same. I was a little thinner, but I had the same silky jet black hair which I stopped to cut before arriving to town. I liked when it fell just below my shoulders. I wore clothing that was similar, maybe even the same as what I had back then. I had on a simple white tank top and jeans with white sneakers. The main reason I couldn’t believe that she didn’t recognize me, however, was that my family was of Japanese descent. We were the only Asians in our tiny Connecticut town. Growing up, every Asian related joke or stereotype got thrown in my face mercilessly. I developed a thick skin and a quick wit. People who came into the store knew that they could make whatever joke they wanted at me. I would verbally gut them alive like my ancestors preparing ikizukuri. Three cuts with the sharpest of knives and you would be served like a live fish with your gills still flapping, moments from death. People didn’t talk much in our town, but I was confident that they knew me. They knew that I didn’t take shit from anyone, and they knew that I was Asian. I was also confident that I was standing in front of Lauren Winters, so what was going on with her? “Megan,” she began. “I’m not sure that we’ve met. Are you from around here?” “Yeah, I worked at Bart’s for years.” “Who’s Bart?” she asked. “It’s the liquor store on the corner of Stokes Road and Glen Ave,” I replied. The interaction we were having shocked me. She used to come in every day for wine. Now that I focused in on her, I noticed that she looked different. She was more vibrant and cleaner somehow. She used to look like she wasn’t sleeping, and in the afternoons, she had no energy after being with the kids all day. I used to ask her if they’d sucked the life out of her or if it was vampires. She always had a fresh hickey on her neck and never thought that was funny. I did, so I kept asking. Her bright blue eyes blinked a few times as she tried to smile at me. “I don’t know that store. Maybe I’ll check it out some time. It was nice meeting you, Mary.” I didn’t correct her. She was next in line, so I left her alone to place her order. When she finished I placed my own. A Maine lobster roll, some kettle chips, and a lemonade. I asked if they could spike it. They said no. I was beginning to think my town had gone dry when out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a man with a beer bottle. Danny Fisher was the only realtor in town. He had very little business and a not so little drinking problem. “Danny!” I yelled. He looked up but didn’t wave. I walked over to him. It was still close enough that I could hear my name if my order was ready. He looked from left to right. “I’ve been out of town for a while, but a lot has changed!” I said. “Did Bart’s close down?” “Who’s Bart?” he asked. “You know, Lauren Winters just asked me the same thing. It’s the liquor store where I used to work. You both came in like every day. How am I the only one that remembers this?” “I think you have me confused with someone else,” he said turning to leave. I grabbed his arm. “Danny, you’re an alcoholic. You were always at the liquor store. And you’re still at it,” I said pointing to the bottle in his hand. “This is root beer, not that it’s any of your business,” he said. And with that, I let him walk away. My order was ready anyway. I grabbed my lobster roll and took it to a bench near the gazebo where the band was playing. I recognized two of the band members, but with the way things were going, I wasn’t sure they would remember who I was. I waved in their direction, and both averted their eyes. What had become of my town? What amnesia washed over them? I finished my lobster roll, which was delicious, and headed back in the direction of my car. There was nothing left in this town for me. My parents both died years ago. I had no other family in the area. The man that I had hoped would become my family betrayed me in the worst possible way. He kidnapped me, took me far away from home, and held me against my will in a motel room for two years. Every day I asked myself how I’d managed to fall in love with a psychopath until one day when I saw my opening. The woe is me phase ended and the scheming began. There was a rip in his favorite sweater. It was an expensive sweater. It was cheaper to go to Walmart and buy a sewing kit to fix it than it would have been to replace it. I insisted that he let me fix it because he didn’t know how to sew. At first he resisted. Being told he couldn’t do something was unacceptable in his world. I backed off and said I didn’t want to do it anyway. He loved making me do things I didn’t want to do. Reverse psychology is a bitch. I slipped two needles from the kit into my pocket when he wasn’t looking. I chose the biggest ones. He kept the door closed with a chain and a lock. He wore the key around his neck. He handcuffed me to the iron bed frame every night. That key was also around his neck. Careful not to break the silence one night, I moved the handcuffs from my side of the bed to his. I slipped my body over his, stepping off of the bed and on to the floor. He was a heavy sleeper, but I felt like taking the keys off his neck might wake him. I had the needles in my hand and at the ready. Sure enough, the second the chain started tickling his neck, he opened his eyes. Once he did, I jammed the needles straight into his pupils. His body jerked away from mine, but I had the keys in hand. The chain broke off his neck, leaving me with both keys. My hands barely trembled as I broke free. I grabbed his wallet and keys off the table and bolted towards the door. That’s the story of how I ended up the proud owner of a white Honda Civic, which I could see on the other end of the parking lot. It sat near an artisanal pizzeria. I rolled my eyes as I passed by. Next to that was a shop called Ritual Blossoms. I’d never seen a shop like it before. It had a small door between two tall windows. In each window was an assortment of candles, gem stones, and bottles of different shapes and sizes. The bottles contained bath salts and flowers. The woman behind the counter was no older than 20. I watched her wrap a colorful stone in pink tissue paper for a customer. I went inside. One side of the shop had a wall lined with books about tarot cards, palm reading, journaling, spirituality, mindfulness, and other related topics. The other side had candles of every size and color. In the center of the store was a giant stone that had been cracked in half to reveal crystallization. A sheet of glass covered the stone so it could serve as a table. All along the glass were items for sale. Perhaps they were for the rituals the name of the shop suggested. The customer left, and I was alone in the shop with the girl. “Can I help you with anything tonight?” she asked. “No thank you. I’m just browsing,” I said. “Here,” she said handing me a long thin box. “What’s this?” “Incense. I can feel that you need it,” she said. “What I need is a stiff drink, and an even stiffer-,” I stopped myself. “I know it sounds crazy,” she said. “You don’t believe in this kind of stuff, but you’ve been through so much. Take it to your hotel room tonight, burn a little, and breathe in the aroma. I know it’s going to make you feel a lot better, Megan.” Her smile was calming, but I was still taken aback that she knew so much about me. She was the only person in town who recognized me and called me by name, but I was sure I’d never seen her before. I accepted the gift and left the shop without buying anything. I did exactly what she said. The next morning, I went back into town to see if my favorite deli was still there. I figured I’d get a coffee at least before figuring out what my next destination was. There was nothing left in town for me, but I had nowhere to go. To my relief, the deli remained intact. I went right up to the counter and ordered a coffee and a bagel with cream cheese. As I waited, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I spun around, and it was Lauren. She still looked clean and perky, but her smile was warmer than it had been last night. “Oh my god, it is you! Long time no see, Megan!” She gave me a hug, shaking my body back and forth. She had no apparent recollection of our encounter from the night before. We caught up a little. She bored me with stories about teaching, which I guess she liked better nowadays. She told me that she’d gotten married, and was thinking of starting a family. “And where have you been? I feel like it’s been ages since I’ve seen you!” she said. I nodded, considering my response. I told her I’d been away but was thinking of moving back. I liked the changes I saw in town and could see myself putting down roots here. Maybe I’d find a job, give dating a shot, get a hobby. I think I’ll take up sewing.