Serena
I arrived in Serenity Falls butt first and screaming.
That’s what my mom always tells people.
I was the first baby to be born here. Fifty years ago, only a week after the town was founded. You’ve probably seen me on posters and TV and in just about every fucking article about Serenity Falls.
New beginnings, the birth of a new community. All that bullshit.
And you’ve probably heard about Serenity Falls too.
The perfect American town, built by the Winsom Corporation.
A place to grow up, grow your family and grow old together.
Every house is whitewashed, gabled and pristine.
There’s a bustling downtown, quaint square, beautiful lake (although not for swimming.
Not if you want to keep all your limbs – the gators around here are pretty big).
Oh, and did I mention the fairground? Big Wheel, Hook a Duck, Carousel with those freaky-looking horses.
All you need is a magical nanny floating down on her umbrella. Practically perfect in every way.
Even the people are perfect. I mean, they must be. Because there has never been a murder in Serenity Falls. Never. Not in half a century.
At least, that’s what everyone believes.
But it’s not true.
Otherwise, I wouldn’t be dead.