Morning broke over Rosewood with the slow, uncertain light of a town not quite ready to wake.
Lily sat up stiffly in the gazebo, her body aching from the hard floor and the cold. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and looked around, the small park was empty, bathed in soft gold and the low rustling of leaves in the early spring breeze.
For a moment, she sat there, blinking at the strange, new world.
It wasn't a dream. She had really left, she had really come here.
She was really alone.
The thought pressed heavy against her chest, but she forced herself to her feet.
Today had to be different and today, she needed a plan.
Dragging her suitcase down the cracked sidewalk, Lily wandered into the heart of Rosewood. The town was quite beautiful. The kind of place her mother would have loved.
Her stomach growled loudly, reminding her that she hadn't eaten since yesterday. She pressed a hand to her belly. First things first: she needed a place to stay. Something cheap. Somewhere no one would ask too many questions, somewhere she could figure out her next move.
A "Room for Rent" sign taped in the dusty window of a corner grocery caught her eye.
The paper was yellowed, the ink fading, but the words were still clear:
ROOFTOP ROOM — $75/week — Cash only — Inquire inside.
She walked towards the grocery shop, pushing open the door, a bell jingled overhead. The store smelled like old wood and spices, and the woman behind the counter barely glanced up from her newspaper as Lily approached.
"Room's still available?" Lily asked, her voice cracking from disuse.
The woman, older, hair a frizzy halo around her lined face peered at her over the rims of her glasses.
"You new?"
Lily hesitated. "Yeah."
The woman studied her for a long moment, something unreadable flickering in her eyes.
Then she shrugged.
"Third floor. Up the back stairs. Talk to Mr. Grant. He's the landlord. Rent's due Friday." She paused. "First week in advance."
Lily's heart sank. She had almost no money left, just a few crumpled bills she'd hidden in her shoe in case of emergency. This was an emergency.
"Okay," she whispered. "I'll take it."
The back stairwell was narrow and smelled like mildew. Her suitcase bumped noisily against each step as she hauled it up.
At the top, a battered door stood slightly ajar. Lily knocked hesitantly.
A raspy and rough voice barked, "Come in."
She pushed the door open to find a man in his sixties lounging in a threadbare recliner, smoking a cigarette. His face was carved from deep lines and stubble, and he didn't bother standing.
"You the girl for the rooftop?" he asked, taking a drag.
"Yes."
He grunted and stubbed the cigarette out in a chipped mug. "Cash?"
She pulled the bills from her jacket pocket and handed them over without speaking.
He counted them with deliberate slowness, then jerked his thumb down the hall.
"Last door on the right. Don't cause trouble. Don't bring strangers. Don't call the cops unless you're bleeding to death."
Lily nodded, gripping the handle of her suitcase tighter.
"Hot water's iffy," he added as she turned to leave. "Don't expect much."
She didn't, not anymore.
The rooftop room was small, barely big enough for a narrow bed, a dresser with one missing drawer, and a window that looked out over the patchwork rooftops of Rosewood.
The walls were thin and stained, the floor creaked when she walked, and there was a lingering smell of old smoke and something damp.
But it had a door, it had a lock. And it was hers.
She closed the door behind her and leaned against it, letting out a shaky breath.
It wasn't home.
It wasn't even safe.
But it was somewhere to start.
She threw her suitcase on the bed and sat beside it, burying her face in her hands.
She could still hear her mother's voice, that last conversation before everything changed, laughing, telling her about a book she had found, asking what Lily wanted for her next birthday.
Lily hadn't known it would be the last time. She pressed her palms to her eyes, willing back the tears.
She needed food, she needed work.
She needed... something to hold onto.
But for the first time since the call that shattered her world, there was a tiny spark inside her, fragile and flickering, but alive.
Hope.
Maybe this broken, battered place could be the beginning her mother had wanted for her.
She lay back on the thin mattress and stared at the cracked ceiling.
The day dragged on slowly.
She unpacked what little she had, folding her clothes into the small dresser, taping the photograph of her parents to the wall by her bed.
She walked down the street and bought a day-old sandwich from a sleepy café, using the last few coins in her pocket.
She wandered the unfamiliar streets, taking in the town: the library, the diner, the closed-down movie theater with its peeling posters.
Everywhere, she was invisible, no one looked twice at her. Maybe that was a good thing.
By the time the sky darkened into a velvet blue, Lily's body ached with exhaustion.
She climbed back up the narrow stairwell to her rooftop room, locked the door behind her, and curled up on the bed fully clothed.
The city hummed faintly through the thin walls, the distant thrum of traffic, a car horn, laughter drifting up from the street.
And then, a noise.
A sharp, guttural scream.
Lily sat bolt upright, heart hammering.
The scream came again, muffled, but close.
On the other side of her wall.
She crept to the wall, pressing her ear against the peeling paint.
Heavy breathing.
A man's voice, raw, broken, gasping words she couldn't quite make out.
Another sharp cry, then silence.
Her whole body tensed, every instinct screaming danger. What was happening?
She clutched her phone, but it was dead, the battery long since gone.
And even if it wasn't...
"Don't call the cops unless you're bleeding to death," Mr. Grant had said.
Was someone bleeding to death?
Another low, agonized sound rattled through the wall.
Lily backed away, heart pounding so hard she thought it might crack her ribs.
She didn't know what to do.
She didn't even know if she could do anything.
All she knew was that she was alone. And something terrible was happening next door.
She stood there frozen, the night stretching out around her, thick and endless, while on the other side of the wall, a stranger's pain filled the air like smoke.
And for the second time since arriving in Rosewood, Lily realized with a hollow ache:
She wasn't as invisible as she thought.