2. Willa
Chapter 2
Willa
I cautiously opened the door to my sister’s apartment, once again wondering why she’d asked me to come here. I hadn’t seen Lily much in the last couple of years. We didn’t exactly have typical sisterly bonds. In fact, we were practically strangers. Lily was eight years older, and though we looked enough alike to be twins—classically Scandinavian, with our long, white-blond hair, pale blue eyes—our personalities couldn’t have been more different.
Lily had always been prickly, demanding, and selfish, which made trying to be close with her a chore and a headache. My early childhood had been dominated by my attempts to navigate her hostility and aggression, and I was profoundly relieved when she left home at eighteen. They were the most peaceful years of my life.
Until our parents died.
They died in a car accident when I was eighteen, a devastating blow as I fumbled my way into adulthood. They didn’t leave much in the way of an inheritance, somehow owing more on our family home than it was worth.
By then, Lily had been out of the house for years, only returning when she wanted something from them. Our parents often lamented how they had gone wrong with Lily, not understanding how they could have raised such a thoughtless, self-involved child and always uncertain of how to handle her demands. They’d called her insensitive, but I think the words they were looking for were closer to psycho. I still felt pangs of grief when I thought of my parents, two people who still loved each other when they died and had tried to give me the best childhood possible regardless of their limited income.
Because of their death and my sister’s absence, I clung particularly hard to my friendships. They gave me my only sense of connection, of family. Holidays were terrible, either spent alone or awkwardly tagging along with a friend. My closest friends, Jasmine and Vanessa, were lovely about it, offering invitations, telling me how much they wanted me to come home and celebrate with them, but sometimes that was worse. When I saw their loving families and happy homes, it made me even more despondent. I usually shook it off, but sometimes the sadness sat on top of me like another layer of skin.
I was in my third year of college, three years after the accident, and barely scraping by on student loans and my part-time job as a server at a high-end restaurant. Even my major—fine arts with a focus in photography—brought me a pang of grief. My mom would often say that even as a small child, I would beg her to let me take pictures and we spent countless hours creating photo albums to whatever had caught my interest.
As I grew up, I got more serious. With my limited finances, I usually had to borrow equipment from the school, feeling heartsick when I had to return it. I loved playing with exposure times and using different settings to create something unusual and beautiful with ordinary objects.
I looked around Lily’s pristine living room, enchanted by the partial view of the Chicago skyline. I pulled out my phone to take a quick snap, then shook my head and focused on why I’d come here. Lily’s ID.
Our nearly identical appearance was actually the reason I was here. After significant internal debate and peer pressure from my friends, I’d asked to borrow her driver’s license one time when I first started college. I was still sporadically in touch with Lily since our parents had just died. Being Lily, she acted like I’d asked for a kidney, instead of a driver’s license, screaming that I was a juvenile delinquent and must be an alcoholic. Needless to say, I never asked again.
Out of nowhere, she texted me last night and said she wanted to see me and that I could have her ID, saying she got a copy and didn’t need her original and that I could use it until I turned twenty-one.
I had been tempted to blow off the offer since I was already twenty—it was just like her to offer me something when I didn’t really need it anymore—but it was my friend Vanessa’s twenty-first birthday next weekend and I really wanted to celebrate with her and all of our friends.
Now I was here for the ID feeling awkward, out of place and eager to get this interaction over with. I looked around the apartment, a feeling of discomfort sitting between my shoulder blades. The ID was sitting on the empty counter, just as she said it would be. I grabbed it and slid it into my pocket. While I wasn’t sure what she was up to, I was at least going to get the ID.
“Lily?” I called out, feeling weird about being in her place alone. I hadn’t even known where her apartment was until she texted me the address last night. It was a surprisingly nice place, with an open concept kitchen and living room and an unbelievable view of downtown Chicago. I had no idea how she afforded it considering I’d never known Lily to have a job.
Now that I had the ID, I debated whether to stay or just leave. She told me I could take the license but I had to wait for her if she wasn’t there because she wanted to see me. It was an unusual request considering her usual apathy toward me, but I could hardly refuse since she was being so generous.
Unsure what to do, I plopped down on the edge of her couch and pulled out my phone to text her.
Willa: Are you coming back soon? I have the ID – can I just take off?
She replied faster than she’d ever replied to one of my texts.
Lily: No! Stay there. I am coming back soon with some food for us for dinner.
I frowned and looked at the clock. It was only two in the afternoon. How long did she expect us to hang out?
Willa: I’m not sure I can stay for so long. I have plans tonight.
Lily: This is just like you, Willa. I am offering to do something nice for you, giving you my ID, making you dinner and you’re blowing me off. You’re acting like an ungrateful bitch.
I sighed in frustration. This was classic Lily. Blaming and manipulating others by victimizing herself to get her own way. Unfortunately, the reason she used this strategy is because it worked. Dammit.
Willa: Fine. Just get here soon. I do actually have plans tonight.
Lily: I’ll be there soon.
I stood up and took a few more shots of the skyline. A part of me was dying to check out her apartment, but another part was afraid she’d come home and find me snooping. I grimaced as I imagined Lily’s outraged response and instead pulled up the pictures I just took, using various filters and editing them in ways I liked.
After at least twenty minutes, still no Lily.
Bored and still feeling the pull to investigate, I tapped my foot for a moment, then scrolled through some of my social media apps to distract myself. I winced and ignored a comment from Andy, a guy I had a class with. He was a nice enough guy, and though I’d given him every indication I wasn’t interested, he kept trying.
Closing the app, I stared at the front door, willing it to open so I could eat with Lily and get the hell out of there. Sadly, it stayed firmly closed.
Unable to bear it, I hopped off the couch and wandered down the hallway that led to the back of the apartment. I swung open the bathroom door and took a peek. It was pretty generic—toilet, shower, sink. Not much in the way of decorations, which had me wondering how long Lily had lived here.
At the end of the hall were two bedrooms, one of which was empty. The other was clearly her bedroom, but it could have passed for a hotel room with as few possessions as it contained. My brows puckered in confusion. This wasn’t Lily’s style. She was an over-the-top decorator, needing the best of everything, and wanting everyone to know she had it. This utilitarian room, which, while spacious, was barren of any style. Once again, I pondered how long she’d lived here. Even if she hadn’t been here long, Lily usually put her stamp on any place she lived the minute she set down the first moving box.
I shrugged my shoulders, figuring I could ask her about it when she got here. I had just walked back into the living room, again wondering how long I was going to have to stick around when a loud, cracking noise had my head snapping to the front door.
What the fuck?
Before I could think, the front door slammed open and a huge man dressed in all black burst into the door. His face was covered by a ski mask, but what really caught my attention was the gun in his hand.
For a moment I was paralyzed with shock, my heart nearly jumping out of my chest. Letting out a shriek, I ran back toward the bedrooms out of pure survival instinct, knowing there was no exit that way. But what was the alternative? I wasn’t going to run towards the guy with the gun.
Instead, I ran into Lily’s room and shut the door. I turned the flimsy lock, knowing it would never keep that man out.
After scanning the room, and quickly finding no magically appearing exits or credible hiding spots, I headed for the closet and hunkered down, knowing it was a stupid place to hide. I couldn’t believe how many horror movie heroines I’d harshly judged for this exact behavior. I hunkered down, unsure if I was even breathing as beads of sweat started to slide down my back, causing my tank top to stick to my skin. I was momentarily distracted at how little clothing was actually hanging in the closet. Lily had ten times this amount of clothes, easily.
My phone! I could call for help! Where was it? I checked my pockets, my shoulders slumping when I found nothing. Dammit, I must have dropped it when I ran.
The intruder kicked the door and I jumped and covered my ears as if not hearing would make this entire situation vanish from my reality. Unfortunately, I could still hear the door frame give out and the door swing open and hit the wall.
“You might as well come out,” a rough voice said. “Considering how I feel about you, you definitely won’t like how much I’ll enjoy dragging you out of here if you resist.”
I frowned at his words. Did this guy know me? I wracked my brain trying to fathom who I’d made this angry and how.
While I was lost in mental calculations, the closet door was pulled open and I yelped in surprise, which was crazy because there was really nowhere else to hide in this room.
The man stood there looking tall and ominous and terrifying. I couldn’t see his expression because of the mask but, considering his stated feelings toward me, I assumed that was probably a good thing. Scrambling for a way to escape, I stood up quickly and kicked my leg out, trying to momentarily immobilize him and get away.
He was far too fast, quickly blocking my kick and backhanding me into the side of the closet. My ears were ringing as I slid down the wall, dizzily shaking my head from the dual impact. Though a part of me was unable to believe that I’d been slapped across the face, the pain made it frighteningly clear that hurting me was not a problem for this man.
The hysterical fear that had been humming through my system since the door had been broken down, burst within me like fireworks on the fourth of July, causing me to start lashing out like a madwoman in a desperate attempt at freedom. The man only chuckled harshly, easily defending himself from my maniacal attack. Lightening fast, he restrained my wrists and used them to jerk me roughly to my feet. He used his other hand to hold my jaw in a painful grip and stare at me with cold, green eyes.
“You should really save your energy for later. You’re going to need it.”