More of my things show up over the next few days. Arsen must be stopping at my mom’s place every day and gathering just enough to fit in a single bag instead of bringing it all in one big trip.
“Your husband is strange,” Mom says to me over the phone. I pace around the library and do my best to ignore the weird creaking sounds I hear coming from the walls. This house feels like it’s alive sometimes.
“In what way?”
“He’s polite. Very nice, actually. But I don’t know—” She hesitates. I know she hates saying bad things about people. Usually, when she doesn’t like someone, she just pretends like they don’t exist. But she can’t do that with Arsen.
“Go ahead, tell me. I’m giving you a free pass. Say what’s on your mind.”
“He’s too serious.”
My eyebrows raise. That’s not what I was expecting. “How’s that?”
“He doesn’t laugh. I told him a really good joke and it barely made him smile. Even your father doubled over. But Arsen? Nothing.”
“I guess I hadn’t noticed.”
“You’re married to the man. You’d know him better than I do.”
If only that were true. Since moving into this enormous house, it’s like I barely see him. Either he’s coming and going when I’m asleep or he spends most of his time in his apartment deeper in the city. I know things are busy with his work and his Brotherhood or whatever, but it’d be nice if he were around at least a little bit.
At least he keeps his promises. Mom says he made a huge deposit of money into her account, more than enough to cover all their bills and then some. Dad quit his job and Vadim’s acting like we just won the lottery. Which I guess we kind of did.
“I’ll find you all a place to live out here,” I tell her as we wind up the conversation. “How’s that sound?”
“I don’t know. The suburbs?”
“It’s just Roland Park. Ten minutes from downtown, tops.”
“More like twenty with traffic.” She sighs, but I can tell she’s thinking about it. “Just come home and visit soon, okay?”
We hang up and I go wandering in search of sustenance. Maud’s in the kitchen and practically insists on cooking me a fancy lunch, even though all I really want is some toast and crackers. “You’re eating for two,” she chides, steering me over to the table. “Just wait a minute. I made soup.”
At least it’s delicious. Chicken noodle, rich and warm. Better than the condensed canned stuff I’ve always eaten, which is all we could ever afford. Maud watches me slurp it down with a little bit of pride.
“Arsen says you’re an explorer.” She lingers at the side of the table. “What’s that like?”
“Urban exploration,” I correct and wave my spoon in the air. A little soup splatters on my shirt, and I rub it off with my hand. “It was just a hobby. I don’t even do it anymore.”
“That’s like crawling around in the dark looking for graffiti, right?”
“Sort of. I was more into looking around in old, abandoned buildings.”
“Lots of those in Baltimore. Not too many out here though.” She pushes her lips together. “Although there is the old post office.”
My eyebrows raise. I try my best not to look too interested, but I’m doing a shitty job. “Where’s that?”
“It was an elementary school twenty years ago. Then they turned it into the post office. But then they moved into a newer and bigger building, and the old post office is sitting there empty.” She shakes her head at me. “Don’t you worry about it though. There’s no way Arsen would ever let you go near that place.”
“It’s dangerous?” I’m practically salivating at the thought.
“Not exactly.” She hesitates and sighs. “Don’t do something stupid, dear, please?”
“I’d never.” I beam at her, puffing up my chest.
And she can see right through me. “Just swear that when he catches you, you won’t mention my name.”
“Never,” I say quickly.
She gives me a disapproving glare, but she says there’s a package waiting for me in the front hall when I’m done eating, then goes back to straightening up. I thank her, throw back the last of my soup, and hurry to grab my box.
Back up in my room, I tear it open and dump out the contents. A small, clear lock, a leather pouch, and a laminated book titled Beginner’s Lockpicking Essentials. I’m practically giddy with excitement as I pick up my tools and flip to the first page.
The problem with having everything is it gets boring very quickly.
I love that I don’t need to stress about daily stuff anymore. No more cooking, no more cleaning, no more scrubbing my own clothes when I get clumsy or careless and get a stain on a pair of white jeans. Now there’s staff to do everything for me.
But that also means I have so much time on my hands and not a whole lot to do.
I explored every inch of the house in the first couple of days. Every room, every weird hallway, all the twisting passages and narrow closets. This place really is like a crazy person’s idea of a mansion.
Everywhere, except the off-limits wing.
That door’s shut solid. I tried a couple of times to jam it open and even used the credit card trick, but no luck. Which is how I ended up watching videos on lockpicking on YouTube and bought some picks and a clear practice lock from one of the influencers.
I know it’s a bad idea. I’m going to do something dumb and get myself in trouble. But the thrill I feel as I figure out how to rake the pins and twist the tumbler makes me ignore all that.
This is what I love. Finding ways to get places I’m not supposed to.
And now at least I have a project.
There’s a big, full moon outside when I slip through the back door. I’m nervous, but I’ve gone over this plan a dozen times in my head. Security is facing outward. They’re on the hunt for people sneaking in, not for someone sneaking out. I hurry through the back garden, reach the tall back fence, and climb over. I drop to the other side, crouch in the bushes for a full minute before hurrying through the underbrush. It takes a few minutes before I reach a main road, but once I orient myself, it’s not hard to figure out where to go.
Roland Park is safe. I stroll along a wide sidewalk and look up at the old houses hidden behind big trees. The air is so clear and crisp out here. Even though it’s still Baltimore, it feels like I’m in a totally different world.
I use my phone to navigate. It’s a ten-minute walk, and I’m feeling pretty happy with myself. Arsen’s only been home once in the last week, and that was two days ago. He’ll never even realize I left.
The neighborhood turns onto a main road. I have to cross the street, but there are barely any cars. I pick up my pace as my nerves start to bother me. This is really happening.
I haven’t gone exploring in years. I never really thought I’d do it again. Not after that last time and my near brush with the law. I figured I got my thrills and a few good stories too, and there’s no reason to put myself at risk anymore.
Until sitting around Arsen’s mansion made me realize how much I crave the outside world.
The building comes into view up ahead. I check my phone, my palms clammy, and I’m at the right place. There’s a chain-link fence around the perimeter, but it’s easy to scale. Nobody bothers with barbed wire out here. I hit the other side and walk faster across a parking lot that’s gone scrubby with weeds.
Maud was right. The place really was an old elementary school. The front entrance has two big columns in the shapes of pencils on the outside, and a cornerstone says it was built in 1927. It’s a low building with dark, boarded windows. I move around the side of it, stomping through overgrown weeds and grass, until I spot a side door.
It’s locked. But no worries. I get out my picks and nearly fumble them in the dark. “Get it together, Lena,” I mutter to myself as I stick my tongue out in concentration.
I’m not good at this. But what I learned over the last few days is, I don’t have to be, so long as I’m patient. I keep at it for almost fifteen minutes before suddenly I feel the tumblers slip up into place and the whole lock turns. It thunks open and I nearly shriek as the door slowly opens toward me.
“Let’s see what you got in here,” I say, taking a flashlight from my bag.
The hallway is dirty. Not filthy like people have been squatting in here, but dusty like nobody’s come through here in a while. I stare at the offices and poke my head in a few. They’re mostly empty except for some random papers, an old fax machine, a mug that says Better Late Than Never, a pair of jeans folded in a corner, a pack of cigarettes with a few still left.
This is what I love the most about exploring. People used to work here. They spent their days in this building, and the whole place still holds onto them like it’s haunted by all their hopes and their dreams. Even a post office carries little echoes.
I find the sorting area. There are still big iron shelving units, most of them bolted into the floor. I find junk mail in big bundles shoved in a corner. I find the back side of the post office boxes, and a few of them still have letters. Those will never get picked up. They’ll never reach their intended destination.
I breathe the smell of old, decaying paper, and hold the flashlight between my teeth as I shuffle through some abandoned flyers.
I feel alive. So alive it’s hard to breathe. Although maybe that’s the flashlight in my mouth. Either way, this is good. I really needed to remind myself that I can still find new places and see new things, that I’m not trapped in my mom’s apartment anymore, and I won’t be trapped in Arsen’s mansion. I can get out and see spaces that haven’t been touched in years.
There’s a noise nearby. Something clatters nearby. I jump to my feet, an advertisement for a roofing company fluttering to the floor. I open my mouth to say something and the flashlight falls to my feet.
I scramble for it, cursing, and finally stand upright. I move the beam all around, but there’s nothing.
“Probably a squirrel,” I mutter and smile to myself. “Just being stupid.”
That’s enough living for one night. I’ve only been here for a little while, but I start making my way back toward the exit.
Except I hear another noise on the way.
This time, it’s a lot closer.
I whirl around. The beam flashes over shelves, painted cinderblock walls, an old clock. I think I see a face, but that can’t be right. I open my mouth to scream and step back, but stumble over an ancient unplugged landline phone.
“Shit,” I say, catching myself on the wall. I raise the flashlight again. “What the fuck was that?”
“Lena.” My name, barely a whisper, and from close.
“Who’s there?” I flail, on the edge of screaming and running.
But then he’s on me. A hand slams over my mouth and my body gets shoved hard against the wall. I gasp in shock and try to scream, but it’s muffled as his face comes into view.
“You shouldn’t have come here.”
