Chronically Haverell Hills VOLUME 0

For seven days, the black envelope sat on the nightstand, gathering dust. And with every passing day, Alyssa hated it more. On the thick paper, a wax seal and gold lettering read: “To my little fox.”

Funny. In life, her mother had never called her that. What does a parent who was never around even leave behind? A dingy little apartment on the outskirts of Gloucester, this damned piece of cardboard, and a paralyzing sense of helplessness. Her mother had raised her to be a convenient little accessory — a houseplant that got watered every now and then. And now the plant had been thrown out into the freezing cold. Alyssa howled on the floor for days, never quite sure who she pitied more, the deceased or herself, while the world outside pretended nothing had happened. Her phone stayed silent. Not a single one of her mother’s suitors, not one of her high-society friends, sent so much as a lousy condolence emoji.

The envelope felt like it was watching her. Unable to handle its silent pressure, Alyssa shoved it under the bed, into a box filled with a pile of useless papers. Out of sight, out of mind.

The evenings turned into tasteless gum — something to chew on just to get through them. Alyssa lay on the couch, biting her nails and listening to the TV mumble, certain that her insomnia would keep her up until dawn. But before the clock struck eleven, her eyelids grew heavy.

Sleep brought no peace. She tossed on the pillow, arching her back, breaking into a cold sweat, until she finally slid off the couch onto the hardwood floor. Before she could even grasp where the nightmare ended and reality began, she froze: a shadow was retreating into the darkness of the hallway.

“Who’s there?!” she breathed, not recognizing her own voice.

Everything inside her went cold. She wasn’t imagining it. There was an intruder here. Someone who had waited for her to fall asleep. Grabbing a vintage paperweight from the table, Alyssa crept into the hallway. She checked the bathroom. The kitchen. The bedroom. Nobody. The front door was locked on both deadbolts.

Was she seeing things? Losing her mind from the stress? Maybe. But the adrenaline had already burned the apathy out of her blood. Breathing heavily like a trapped animal, Alyssa dropped to her knees by the bed. She dragged the box out, dumped its contents, and snatched the envelope.

“Fine,” she exhaled into the silence. “Let’s see what you were hiding.”

The wax cracked under her fingernails. Inside lay a sheet of paper, folded in half. Just a few lines that would burn her past life to ashes. And not just hers.