Chapter Six October Twenty-Seventh
Eagle Arch (unincorporated), Alaska
Barton has to leave today, heading out for two weeks of fishing.
I hope he falls overboard. Does that make me a bad person?
I don’t think so...
There’s something different about the way he moves around the house this morning—it is morning, even though it’s dark as night.
Barton doesn’t scream at me to stay in my room, doesn’t keep making snide remarks and looking disgusted whenever he catches sight of me.
Sarah is silent and gives him everything he could want before he asks for it. Barton doesn’t shout. Just watches us.
He knows we’re getting braver. At least I am. I don’t seem eager to please him anymore. I’m not trying to win better treatment, and I realize that the way they treat me is wrong.
I want to ask Sarah so many things before she leaves.
Oh, yes. I know she’ll run this time. Maybe she’s realized what he does to her is wrong, too.
Barton pulls on his coat and walks near me, so close that I have to steel myself not to back away. Sarah doesn’t look, retreating to the kitchen. “I know you were in my den. You think you’re clever, but you’re not. You’re dumb—dumb as her.”
I don’t waste time denying it. This might be my last chance to ask him something.
This week, I’m going to take a job, any job, to get away.
Lesha’s been helping me find sites where I can apply, helping me find agencies that could help me find birth certificates or my mom.
I delete my conversation history each time, and Barton’s threats have been loud and empty lately.
“Why was she dumb?” I whisper.
“Ha. Look at you. Her little fling left her a shitty present, one she couldn’t get rid of, even though she tried.”
Is that true? My mother didn’t want me? I don’t let Barton see the hurt his words cause.
“You’re real hard to kill. What did she think, fucking with some... some monster.”
He’s the monster, but I’m silent.
Barton turns, walks away, and then rounds suddenly enough to make me flinch. “You touch my stuff again, and I’ll cut off your fingers. How are you going to type in your fancy-ass classes then?”
It’s so brutal, and said with such simple cruelty, that I know he means it. I instinctively grab my hands and tuck them behind my back.
“Hard to kill, but you don’t regenerate. That tail you came out with is proof of that. Didn’t even bleed to death.”
Behind my back, my hands press into the spot just above my panties, right before my bottom starts. There’s a nub there, an arrow-shaped mass that Sarah said was a growth that they removed when I was a baby.
But it wasn’t. It was a tail.
I’m not... I’m not completely human, but I don’t know what I am. Could it be demonic? I don’t feel demonic.
“Barton. It’s nearly four-thirty. You’d best go if you don’t want to miss the launch boat. I started the truck for you.”
“Did I tell you to do that?” he snarls, rounding on Sarah as she comes back into the small hallway.
It’s my turn to leave. Sarah left me to fend for myself. I do the same. It’s become our new unspoken bond, our sick kind of tag-teaming that started this week.
When the door slams, the house is still. I think Sarah must be sitting back in the kitchen, hands clutching a cup of coffee, silently putting hot courage in her stomach.
She has friends. She has someone to call. Someone who can help her.
I have to help myself.
No Questions Asked Employment is a website that’s slowly killing my computer. Every message sent to me seems to want me for adult filming or massages and comes with a side of viruses.
Today, I hunt for new posts, for jobs that want nannies, for jobs that need childcare. I use the keyword search bar on the top and narrow the time frame to the last week. I’d already searched pretty much the entire site while Barton was away. Since his return, I was more careful.
“Wife” Wanted.
The only posting that appears makes me groan internally, but I look anyway.
And the more I look, the more I am intrigued.
A single dad really needs a nanny... But he can’t offer money.
No way in heck would most people be okay with that. I wouldn’t be okay with that... Except I’m not looking for a career. I’m looking for an escape.
My own room. Food and lodging. Travel expenses.
If I married him, I guess his benefits would cover me, too.
Benefits are a big deal for people who can see doctors—not freaks like me.
I guess that’s why he’s putting that in.
I guess if I want the job, I shouldn’t mention that benefits don’t matter to me.
A daughter with deformities, cared for by her protective single father?
I hear Sarah start shuffling around, and I wonder... I wonder if I can beg her to wait for me, to give me at least a ride to a town.
If I even have someplace to go...
I attach my resume and cover letter. I type my personal note in the box before I hit send.
Dear “Wife” Seeker,
We found each other—the two decent beings on this site, both in a hard spot.
You sound like you need a nanny but are seeking a wife to allow you to offer her benefits and maybe to help you care more fully for your child.
I also have several issues with my physical appearance.
The most noticeable one is skin pigmentation.
If you don’t mind the way I look, you can rest assured that I would not care how your little girl looks.
I grew up without a loving family to protect me, and I would love to be part of the loving family that protects your daughter.
Hopefully, we will be great roommates and, one day, good friends.
I’m in Alaska now. I would need help with travel expenses.
I stop typing.
I have no bank account.
Lesha told me I can ask for money orders.
No, I just have to get to a town, hide out, maybe in a women’s shelter or something, and try to set up some kind of life.
This job is a long shot, but I finish by explaining that if he would like to contact my references first (Lesha and one of my professors), he can get back to me, and we’ll work out the rest later.
OCTOBER 28TH, 2025
Pine Ridge, NY
SLEEP DEPRIVATION IS taking its toll. I’m starting to see things when I take Laurel to the park. People with green skin.
A man with a wolf’s head.
It’s almost Halloween, and the town really goes all out. That’s all.
Still, I don’t go out often, and I always keep Laurel covered up, the hood of her stroller hiding her face, booties over her teensy hooves.
I sit for a few minutes and watch a group of people decorating one of the floats for the Halloween parade. My pocket buzzes, and when I retrieve my phone, I groan.
It’s a message from that shady employment site. The fiftieth one in two days. I’ve been offered multi-level marketing deals, a chance to star in a porno, and six brides from various countries who would have to go through a long, laborious process to get over here.
I’m going to delete the ad, I decide, but I open the message anyway.
And stop.
Read. Re-read. Read again, heart curiously light.
This message doesn’t have a scammy tone to it, which makes me worry that it’s actually just an even bigger, better scam.
But the person, Imogene Sommer, sounds genuine. She sounds like she needs me as much as I need her, and she actually provided references.
Two references, both in New York!
I peep into the stroller. Laurel is content, watching the men with hammers and a giant pumpkin.
“I’ll get you some books at the library.
We’ll get an hour a day in, kiddo. Even if it’s just listening to boring stuff, I’ll be reading it out loud,” I murmur, rocking the stroller lightly because Laurel likes it when things bounce.
I call the reference listed first—Lesha.
“Hi. I’m calling about Imogene Sommer. She applied for a—well, for a live-in nanny position.” I cough, unsure if Imogene mentioned the title I gave my want ad.
Lesha gasps and sounds genuinely excited. “Oh! Oh, my gosh, hire her. She’s the nicest girl. Super smart. She will be an amazing nanny.”
“How do you know her?” I ask. “Have you ever seen her work with kids?”
There’s a second’s pause, but Lesha is just revving up.
“Absolutely! She babysits for me all the time. I mean—not now. She’s in Alaska.
But when she came for a visit, she babysat my kids.
They love her. Aunt Immy, they call her.
She’s so good with kids. Like, you don’t meet people with good, kind, genuine hearts like hers.
And, frankly, she needs the job, and she’d work for a very reasonable price. ”
Yeah. Essentially free. “My job is not for everyone. I can’t pay much, and my daughter has special needs. Do you know why she’d want to take this job? It’s also on the other side of the country from her. She says she’s in Alaska, and I’m in New York.”
There’s a thoughtful, enthusiastic humming, like someone revving up to tell a big story. That could mean Imogene has coached her pal really well, or else that this person is truly jazzed about her.
I think it’s the second one when Lesha starts speaking.
“First off, she’s a student at a university in New York—the online program. The tuition is free for two-year degrees for eligible students, so she’d probably love to be closer to the school, to some of her fellow classmates. And...”
“And she mentioned she’s in a hard spot, too. That she doesn’t have a loving family.”
“Damn, girl. Just putting it all out there,” Lesha sighs.
“It’s true. She’s in a bad living situation.
That doesn’t make her a bad person or an unsafe person.
She’s one of the sweetest, kindest, and most sincere people I know.
You won’t regret it—but you might regret it if you don’t, because you’re never going to find another person like her.
She goes above and beyond in every class, with every response, with every—yeah, with everything she did with my kids. ”
“Well. Thank you very much. That’s really informative.”
We exchange goodbyes, and I leave a message for the other reference, but my mind is made up.
Pine Ridge is kind of odd, it occurs to me. Ever since I arrived, good things have been happening, even if they come at me in an odd way. Like Laurel. Maybe Imogene Sommers is one of those things, too?