The unwritten scars

1: Evie'

rth, so unlike the gasoline and concrete stench of Chicago. Evie Monroe stepped out of her ca

yed in the wind. It had peeling white paint, a sagging porch, and windows that looked

sted. Can you r

was behind her. The bruises had faded, but the memories hadn't. She adju

sirens wailing at all hours. Now, there was nothing but the whisper of the wind and the occasional chirp of a bird.

stepped inside, inhaling dust and wood. The space was a small one bedroom, a tiny kitchen, a living area with just enoug

pressing a hand to her chest to ca

res crunching over g

iveway, sending a fresh wave of panic through her body.

needed to move, to run, but her fee

door opened, and

h of stubble. Hands covered in sawdust. He wiped them o

e Mo

ep, steady. Noth

ed, thro

e said. "I built

alizing she'd been holding her b

e way she kept her weight shifted toward the door as if she might bolt. He

bring the

e inside. But she had ordered the furniture weeks ago before she decided to run

elf to nod. "Ye

r again, his eyes dark and unreadable, but

and headed ba

she'd been holding. She pressed a trembling

. Just a

the porch steps, something about him unsettled her

es again, she saw it and he

fied her more