Somwhere New
⚠️ TEEN — Reader Discretion Advised ⚠️
This story contains themes of stalking, obsession, emotional abuse, physical abuse, coercive control, manipulation and references to violence.
It may also contain non-explicit suggestive adult themes and coarse language.
Nothing is intended to romanticise or glorify abuse.
Detailed descriptions of violence or sexual content will not be included.
Recommended for readers aged 16+.
Please read at your own discretion. 🤍
Everyone keeps calling it a fresh start.
Maybe this time it actually is.
I’ve never been here before.
That’s the whole point.
New town. New house. New school. New people.
Nobody knows me here.
Nobody knows what happened before we moved.
And I like it that way.
The car turns onto a quiet street, and I look out of the window at rows of red brick houses and neatly kept gardens.
Mum leans forward in her seat.
“It’s nice.”
Dad smiles.
“I told you it would be.”
He’s been saying that since the day he got the promotion.
A promotion that apparently meant moving us hours away from everything we’d ever known.
Dad calls it an opportunity.
Mum calls it a new beginning.
Nora has been calling it exciting since they told us.
I haven’t called it anything.
I’m just glad we’re here.
The car stops outside our new house.
It’s bigger than our old one, but not by much. Red brick, white windows and a small garden out front.
It looks normal.
That’s what I want.
Normal.
Dad turns the engine off.
For a few seconds, nobody moves.
Then Nora practically throws her seatbelt off.
“Finally.”
She jumps out before Mum has even opened her door.
I smile despite myself.
She’s always been like that.
Excited about everything.
I take a little longer to get out.
My fingers stay wrapped around the seatbelt for a moment.
I look at the house.
No memories here.
No places I know.
No one who knows me.
Maybe that’s exactly what I need.
“Elizabeth.”
I look over at Dad.
“You coming?”
I sigh.
“Yeah.”
I hate when he calls me Elizabeth.
I know it’s my name.
It’s written on every official document I have. My birth certificate. My school records. Everything.
But it sounds old.
Too formal.
Like someone who wears sensible shoes and knows what they’re doing with their life.
I’m Betsy.
I’ve always been Betsy.
Well, almost everyone calls me Betsy.
Mum and Dad still call me Beth.
I hate that too.
Beth sounds boring.
Common.
Like there are probably a hundred of them in every school.
Betsy feels more like me.
I grab my bag from the back seat and follow everyone inside.
The house smells like fresh paint and cardboard.
Boxes are stacked against the walls, waiting to be unpacked.
Nora runs upstairs.
“I call the biggest room!”
“You can’t call it before you’ve seen them,” I shout after her.
“I just did!”
Dad laughs.
Mum starts talking about where the furniture is going to go.
I leave them to it.
My room is at the end of the upstairs hallway.
It’s empty except for a bed and a few boxes.
I walk over to the window.
The street looks different from up here.
Quiet.
Almost too quiet.
A few cars are parked along the road. Curtains are drawn in some of the houses. A dog barks somewhere in the distance.
Nothing unusual.
Nothing threatening.
Just a street I’ve never seen before.
I like that.
I sit on the edge of the bed and pull my phone from my pocket.
One message.
Ezra.
Made it?
I smile.
Yeah.
How is it?
Weird.
Give it a few days.
Easy for you to say.
You’re not the one who has to start at a new school.
You’ll be fine, Betsy.
I stare at his message for a second.
I hope so.
Another message comes through.
Don’t forget me.
I laugh quietly.
As if.
I put my phone down and start unpacking.
For the next few hours, the house is filled with noise.
Boxes opening.
Furniture being dragged across floors.
Nora complaining that she can’t find her charger.
Mum asking Dad where he’s put the kettle.
I put my headphones on.
Music fills my ears.
The rest of the world fades.
That’s better.
By late afternoon, most of my clothes are away.
I sit on the floor beside my bed, sorting through the last few things in my bag.
A guitar pick.
An old bracelet.
A few receipts I don’t remember keeping.
Things that don’t really matter.
Things I kept anyway.
I put them into my drawer.
When I look up, the light outside has started to fade.
I walk over to the window.
There’s someone across the road.
A boy.
He’s leaning against a black car with his arms folded.
Dark hair.
I can’t make out much else from this distance.
I watch him for a second.
He looks towards the house.
I move back from the window.
Stupid.
He’s probably just looking at the new people moving in.
I wait a moment before looking again.
He’s still there.
Except now there are two of them.
I stare.
Twins.
They’re almost identical.
Same dark hair. Same height. Same sharp features.
One of them is talking while the other looks down the street.
The second boy looks towards my window.
Our eyes meet.
I freeze.
It’s only a second.
Maybe two.
Then he looks away.
I step back from the window.
My heart is beating slightly faster than it was before.
I don’t know why.
They’re just boys.
Probably neighbours.
I look again.
They’re walking away from the car now.
One says something to the other.
The other laughs.
Then they disappear around the corner.
I let the curtain fall shut.
“Betsy!”
I turn around.
Nora is standing in my doorway.
“What?”
“Come downstairs.”
“Why?”
“Because Mum wants us to eat.”
“I’ll come in a minute.”
She looks at me.
“Are you crying?”
“What?”
She points at my face.
“You look weird.”
“I’m not crying.”
She shrugs.
“Okay.”
She walks away.
I look back at the window.
The street is empty.
For the first time since we arrived, I let myself believe it.
Maybe this can work.
Maybe I really can start over here.
No one knows me.
No one knows my past.
No one knows the person I used to be.
And maybe that’s the best thing about moving somewhere new.
You get to decide who you become.
I turn away from the window.
I don’t know yet that someone else might have already decided who they think I am.
