Chapter Text
Alayne pulled the ancient, powder blue car up to the small house. It halted with a sputter; she knew it wouldn’t have lasted much longer. Not quite packed to the brim with all of her not-so worldly possessions, it was the last stop the vehicle would need to make. Buying a new one in her new town was essential anyway.
She opened the creaking driver side door, giving it a firm push as she stepped out and scanned the house. Small and white, it looked cozy with a large window in the front and a dark blue door. A tiny but well-kept front yard featured a garden with red and purple flowers.
This can be good. I can make this good.
Her personal mantra, becoming easier and easier to say the farther she fled.
A bead of sweat was in her periphery, caught just before it threatened her vision. It was hot, much too hot for her taste. Her thick brown hair was tied back into a long, winding braid damp with the heat. The car didn’t have air conditioning. Not that she’d needed it where she was from. At home the mornings were still crisp with iced-over dew and the days were cloudy and cool. She had traded her long sleeve cotton tops with sleeveless options and dresses days ago.
She heard a rustling in the car behind her followed by a whimper. Her dog Lady jumped out, scrambling toward the green lawn and smelling the patch of flowers. At least she’ll like it here. Lady had hated the city, with no room to run or play, walks confined to parks of a concrete type. “You like the house, Lady? You’d better, because it’s home now.” She followed the dog, giving her a playful scratch behind her ear. “I wonder what kind of little animals you’ll get to chase.” The Siberian husky gave a bark in reply, trotting off around the side of the building to explore.
The inside of the house was quaint. Further inspection revealed two small bedrooms with simple furnishings, kitchen, living room, bathroom and a small patio in the back where she imagined herself sitting in the evenings, watching Lady play in the fenced-in backyard. There was nothing superfluous, which is just what Alayne had asked for.
The belongings she brought with her, filled the blue beater with, were nothing valuable. Clothes, small side-tables or paintings she liked, a bike fastened to the back. There were no photographs, no unique jewelry, no childhood stuffed animals. She didn’t have them, couldn’t have them, anymore. They weren’t gone, exactly. The girl had an idea that much of her stuff was locked up in a big evidence room, collecting dust.
It took her most of the morning to move what little she had into the house, taking her time, getting to know where everything was. The neighbors on either side weren’t close to the point of suffocating her, but they were near enough for her to know they weren’t home. Monday mornings meant going to work for most people.
I’ll be most people, soon.
She had a job lined up at the local police station and was scheduled to start next week. At 22, the woman had her Master’s degree in social work, finishing both high school and college early, almost an expectation in her family. They weren’t happy with her choice in career, and if she was being truthful neither was she, but it seemed like the only choice she had at the time. She wanted to work with troubled kids, wanted to help people. Maybe help someone like her.
The evening came quickly, unusual for someone for had just spent days on the road with nothing but tar and radio shows to keep her company. Sitting on the couch, watching some classic romance movie on her small television she heard a gentle knocking on her door.
The first feeling was panic. The second rationalization. The people you're running from wouldn't knock. Probably. Creeping toward the door she still kept her hand in her back pocket, clasping the pocketknife that resided there. Turning the handle she braced, ready to greet or gut.
“Hello, dear! Welcome to the neighborhood!” An older, plump woman with reddish hair and a plate of chocolate chip cookies stood in the doorway, a sociable smile plastered on her powdered face.
The girl relaxed, breath almost a sigh, as she returned the smile, extending her other hand out for a shake. “Hello, I’m Alayne. Alayne Stone.”
She returned the shake daintily. “Oh, wonderful to meet you. I’m Lysa Arryn. I live right next door. I just wanted to be the first to introduce myself, in case you needed anything. You know how it is, with such a small town. You’re big news!”
Great. “Thanks, I really appreciate it.” She tried to adopt a genuinely appreciative look. “Is it just you, living there?”
“Oh no. My husband passed not long ago, but my son Robert is still with me. I’m afraid he’s not feeling well today, but I’ll bring him around tomorrow if you’d like. He’s such a sweet boy.”
“That would be lovely.” Alayne had forgotten her manners; the two of them still standing in the doorway. “How rude of me; I didn’t even ask you inside. Would you like some tea?”
“Oh no thank you, my dear. I really must be getting back to my poor Sweetrobin. Do let me know if you need anything.” And with that the woman toddled back across the yard.
Alayne plopped back onto the chair, exhausted. A small town. She’d never lived in a small town. Maybe it would be nice, making friends as close as family, knowing everyone’s names, having them over for dinner.
Watching as they’re beaten, raped, murdered.
What good is family if they’re that easy to lose?