Chapter 3

No, I won't accept this!

I stood up, dragging my suitcase, and knocked on the door next door. Mrs. Harper opened it—the woman who'd watched me grow up since childhood.

"Mrs. Harper! It's me, Claire!"

I grabbed onto her like a drowning person clutching a life raft.

"Something happened to my family! My parents are missing, and a group of strangers has taken over our house! Did you see my parents today? They..."

"Claire? Are you confused? The house next door... that's the Williams family. They've lived there for years."

I froze:

"Mrs. Harper, what are you saying? That's David 's house—my house! You came to borrow sugar from us last month, and my mom baked you cookies..."

"That never happened!"

Mrs. Harper suddenly raised her voice.

"Young lady, don't make things up! I don't know any David !"

With that, she slammed the door shut.

I stood in the cold wind, chilled to the bone.

I went to knock on other neighbors' doors.

The answers were all variations on the same theme:

"Never heard of them."

"Miss, did you get the wrong address?"

"That house has always been theirs. We all know them."

Just as I was losing all hope, I saw elderly Mrs. Murphy about to take out her trash.

I rushed over and grabbed her hand:

"Mrs. Murphy, you know my parents, right? Tell me where they went!"

But Mrs. Murphy shook off my hand forcefully, quickly closed her door, and didn't even take out the trash.

I stood on the street, looking at door after door shut tight, and suddenly felt the whole world spinning.

Could it be... I really did remember wrong? Could the parents I saw when I first came home just be my hallucination?

I stumbled back to the front of the house.

Through the glass window, I saw those seven people enjoying their meal harmoniously.

The little girl pointed at something on TV and laughed. Sarah brought her fruit. Robert poured wine with a beaming smile.

Everything looked so normal, so normal it was as if they'd been living here for twenty years.

And I was like an intruder who didn't belong, like a crazy person.

No, wait—why am I starting to doubt myself?

I shook my head, quickly pushing that thought away.

Over the next two days, I haunted the area like a ghost.

I checked into a small hotel and squatted across from the house before dawn every day, watching that door.

On the morning of the third day, I blocked Sarah as she went out to buy breakfast.

"Give me back my parents!"

I stood in front of her, my eyes bloodshot.

Sarah jumped, then composed herself:

"Miss, why are you still here? Wasn't what the police said clear enough?"

"Those must have been fake police! You're all definitely working together!"

My voice was hoarse.

"Tell me right now—where are my parents!"

I grabbed her arm to keep her from leaving.

Sarah shook me off forcefully and shouted loudly:

"Help! A crazy person is attacking me!"

Several neighbors out for morning exercise gathered around.

Sarah pointed at me and said to everyone:

"It's this girl. On Christmas Eve she broke into our house claiming it was hers, saying I stole her parents! The police already came, and she's still causing trouble!"

The neighbors looked at me with suspicion, pity, but mostly the desire to keep their distance.

"Looking at her, her mental state really isn't right."

"Poor thing."

"Keep your distance, don't get involved."

I looked at these familiar faces.

The way they were looking at me now—like I was a stranger, a lunatic.