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  I tried to be as quiet as I could as I didn't want to wake anyone. They had a long day and deserved their sleep. When I was finally inside I turned around and put the screen back in the window. (It was much easier to reattach from inside of the house.) I then took off my shoes and dusted myself off. I noticed my jeans had become damp from the dew during the walk over. I didn't want to leave a mess for anyone so I slid my jeans off, folded them neatly, and stacked them on top of my shoes against the wall next to the window.

  --

  Finally, finally I was inside. I was inside my family's house. I looked around and everything thing seemed so... familiar. I could see the living room that I had watched so much. I could see the dining room table, the kitchen, and even the stairs leading up to their bedrooms. The pictures on the wall, the rug in the kitchen, and the numerous drawings on the refrigerator barely held up by a weak magnet. The drawings all had the same name signed on the top center in rather large block printed letters. Lucas. That must be the youngest boy’s name. Along with the drawings that were stuck to the refrigerator were copies of tests with grades ranging from B- to B+ all with the name of Logan written on the top left of the sheet.

  After surveying the main floor for a bit I noticed a pile of mail scattered across their dining room table. I picked up some of it and began to thumb through. They were all addressed to 'Mr. Jacob Turner,' to 'Mrs. Hazel Turner,' to 'the Turner Family.' They were the Turners. That was my new family's name, the Turners. Hazel. Hazel Turner. Knowing their names somehow made me feel closer to them. I felt like I was part of this family. I was part of the Turner family. There was nothing remarkable in their mail. It just contained the usual bills, spam, and local flyers. I put the mail back on the table neatly stacking them on top of each other in the center of the table next to a vanilla scented candle.

  I decided to go to the fridge and grab a glass of milk. Milk always helped me relax at night so I figured why not? A man should be able to relax in his own house. I grabbed the half gallon container and reached up to the oak cabinet just left of the refrigerator and grabbed a glass cup. The cups were on the top cabinet and the coffee mugs were right below it. You learn these things from watching you know. I could tell you where everything is in this kitchen. I've seen it all. I took a big gulp of milk and nearly spit it right back out. They only had skim milk. What were they thinking? I'll have to bring some whole with me next time.

  With my glass of milk in hand I moved over to the living room and plopped down on the couch. I grabbed the television remote and turned her on. I cranked the volume way down as I didn't want to wake my family up. I'm usually never up this late, I wonder if I can find anything decent. After some flipping with no luck I decided to see what was on the DVR. HA! Tons and tons of kid shows; various PBS shows, Disney, Nickelodeon, and all sorts of movies. I think my DVR at home is still full of these as well.

  I settled on watching one of their recorded cartoons. It was one of those superhero action cartoons that ten year old boys love like Batman or Superhero although I didn't recognize the hero. He must be new. I burrowed deeper into the couch and grabbed a blanket to cover myself up. It was starting to get a little chilly in here due to that open window.

  I woke up groggily rubbing my eyes. Wait? I woke up?? How long had I been asleep? Is my family still asleep? Panicked, I scanned the room wildly snapping my head back and forth and back again. Everything seemed like it was before. The cartoons were still playing, but obviously not in the same episode as before but everything else had stayed the same. I must have only dozed for a half hour or so.

  Startled, I finished my glass of milk and got up from the warm couch. I think it was time to go back to my house... unfortunately. This seemed too close for comfort. I was careless. I shut the television down, folded up the blanket, put my milk glass on the counter, slipped my jeans and shoes back on, and then decided to head back home.

  Before I left I grabbed a pair of keys on the counter and tested them to find the match for the back porch door. They made it easy; there were only about four keys on the chain. Presto! Found her. I took the key off the ring and put it in my pocket. I then unlocked the back door, stepped out, closed it, and re-locked it. I added the key to my key chain and made a mental note to make a copy of that key tomorrow. I'd hate for them to be missing their keys.

  --

  When I got home I couldn't sleep. I was wired. I kept reliving my time over there in my mind, playing it over and over again. The next day all I could think about was my stay at my family's house. It was miraculous. I was in a house that was lived in. I was in a house that had life. I was in a house that had love. I can't describe the feeling. I was on cloud nine all day. Nothing could bring me down. Even some of my coworkers complimented me on my mood, which is saying something as I'm just a little bit somber.

  During my lunch break I stopped by Lowes and got a copy of the key made and added it to my key chain. I figured I would give them their key back in a couple days when I did my next visit. I'd have to leave it somewhere inconspicuous. They're going to think that they lost it so I can't just put it on the counter. I don't want them to suspect anything. I'll have to leave it just slightly poking out from under a rug or a couch. Someone will stumble across and think, 'Oh, that's where it went!'

  That night I watched them intently, more so than usual, and wondered did they realize there was someone else there last night? I remembered as I was watching them that I had left my milk glass on the counter. Did they suspect anything? No, they couldn't have. I'm sure each one of them just thought the other one used it. I know when I HAD a family I would sometimes get up and have a glass of milk in the middle of the night. It was nothing unusual. The only thing they could possibly notice was the one key missing and it's such a small minor thing I doubt that even if they do notice it will raise any concerns.

  Dinner came and went. Everything seemed as normal. Everybody ate and they had their usual back and forth banter. After dinner they went their separate ways. There was nothing out of the ordinary.

  That night I decided to visit them again. I told myself that I was going to wait a few days as last night's visit was too close. I told myself this but yet I found myself staying up later than usual. Against my better judgment I waited until about midnight again and left the darkness and left the loneliness of my house to join the love and joy of theirs. This time entry was going to be much easier. This time I had a key, I had full unbridled access. I was shaking with anticipation.

  I climbed over the fence, nearly skipped across their yard with excitement, ran up the deck stairs, and inserted the key into the back door. My heart was beating and my palms were sweating. I could barely contain myself. I turned the copied key and... there was nothing. The key didn't budge. I tried it again. There was still nothing. The copy must be bad, it had to be. I pulled out the original key that was still attached to my keychain and tried the lock again. Nothing happened. I tried again, nothing, AGAIN, and NOTHING. WHY WASN'T THIS WORKING? Had they changed the locks? No. It couldn’t be. Why? Why would they do that? How can I go inside now? This can't be. I NEED to be in there. WHY? I collapsed in a heap on the deck and begun to sob uncontrollably. The suicidal whisper that had all but subsided over the past weeks arose with new life. I could hear it in the back of my head. I could hear it's calling between my crying. It's calling to end it all, to embrace the darkness.

  After who knows how long I was able to compose myself and I spread out on their deck looking up at the stars. As I stared blankly into the sky I did my best to push those awful thoughts from my head. I had to get in that house and that was that. I thought about what my next move was. What am I do to now? I can't break in, that will make too much noise. Are there any windows open? Are there any alternative ways into the house? After thinking on it for a few minutes I realized it was hopeless. I wasn't going to get in there tonight without alerting them. I felt betrayed. Why didn't my family want me? Why are they keeping me out? This is my house too. I'm a member of th
is family too.

  Chapter 7 Hazel (II)

  It had been a few months since we moved into our new house in Carolsburg. We seemed to be getting used to the new city. Within a week of moving in we had a few of the neighbors come over and introduce themselves, the Davidsons and the Powells. (I liked the Davidsons better.) The Davidsons brought some cookies and the Powells brought brownies, they were both homemade. They seemed normal and friendly and the treats weren't bad either! I only got to taste a few of the brownies as the boys wolfed down the cookies and most of the brownies before I even had a chance. Oh the joys of having two boys.

  We got into a routine. The boys would get ready for school in the morning and the bus would pick them up right about seven every morning. Jacob would leave the house right around seven-thirty. This left time for me. I liked to stay home for the boys in case of an emergency, or they were sick, or during the summer vacation. Things are just easier when one parent is at home and can attend to something at a moment's notice. That being said I also wanted to help Jacob out with the bills; I didn't want to just sit here like a bump on a log all day. So, I decided to start writing. I had always enjoyed it when I was younger and now I had the time to do it. Writing seemed to be a good distraction and allowed me to jog my mind and imagination not to mention making a little extra money on the side. I wrote a few columns for some smaller websites here and there but I spent most of my time working on a novel. The articles were breaks between the lengthy task of stroking a full novel.

  The boys would get home at around four every afternoon and I'd start dinner a little after five. Jacob usually showed up a little after five thirty so it became an unspoken routine that dinner was served at six every night. Jacob hated staying late for work and if he needed to work long hours he'd always go in early or work late at night when the rest of the house was asleep. He never wanted to miss the family dinner.

  After dinner Jacob and I would either watch the news or some other program and the boys would go downstairs and play video games or just mess around in the basement. (Their toys were split evenly between either the basement or the spare room upstairs.) By nine the boys were in their rooms either asleep or on the verge of sleep. Most nights Jacob and I would be in bed and out by ten.

  Having said that, I have to say things got a little weird. I can't even rightfully describe it and every time I try I just look like a fool in front of Jacob. Do you ever get that feeling that someone is staring at you? Usually, if you do you know where it's coming from and you turn to meet their gaze. They see you staring back, they look away, and that's the end of it. Happens to most of us and usually it's nothing to think about. Well, I've been getting that same feeling every night since I've been in this house. That's all it is, a feeling. But, it feels so true. It feels like someone is watching me, or watching us. Almost like an internal alarm saying 'Danger!' I can feel their eyes washing over me. I can feel them scan me. I can feel them burning into me. I look out the windows and see blackness in our yard and blackness across most of the neighborhood. There are a few lights on here and there in house behind and diagonal from us but no sign of anything suspicious. Streetlights dot the streets in orbs of light, so it'd be fairly obvious if someone was standing in the street watching us.

  I asked Jacob to pick up some blinds or curtains, or anything to cover up the windows in the kitchen and dining room. At first he kept saying that he forgot to get them. This went on for a few weeks. When I finally confronted him about it he said that he didn't want to get them. He liked the windows, he liked the view. He said that the one of the things he loved most about this house was the large windows in the kitchen and dining room. It brought so much sunlight and overall feeling to the house. Never mind my feelings on the matter. I tried reasoning with him but he wouldn't have it. He said it made the house feel more open and alive and that we didn't need to change anything. All I felt was paranoia. The uneasy feelings continued through every dinner and throughout the evenings.

  --

  I hate to say it but after some time had passed I almost didn't notice the uneasiness when eating dinner or at night. It was still there and if I really focused on it I could sense it but it almost seemed like background noise now. Almost like light music playing in the background. If you really focused on it you could hear it and feel it, but otherwise it just faded into the background with everything else. I got used to it I guess you could say. Once you get used to something you don't even notice it anymore. I'm not sure if this is a good thing or not, but I barely notice the presence now. It wasn't bothering anyone else in the family anyways, so why let it concern me?

  It was mid February and we had been going through the harsh Midwest winter for the past few months. If you've ever lived in the Mid-Western United States you know exactly what I'm talking about. Weather so cold you'll freeze in a half hour, snow every other week, and ice... ice everywhere. Well, we caught a break. For whatever reason the weather today spiked all the way up to sixty three degrees! Yeah, I know it doesn't sound like much to you southerners out there, but sixty three degrees in February is something to behold! I opened up all the windows on the main level once the temperature got above fifty degrees. It made for a chilly morning but as the temperatures warmed up it began to feel perfect.

  We had our usual dinner but afterwards since it was so nice we all went to the neighborhood playground to try it out for the first time. It seemed a lot of other families had the same idea as us as when we got there it was pretty darn full. That was a good thing though! That meant more people for us to meet and more potential friends for the boys. (Neighborhood friends are the best because they can play together anytime, not just at school.)

  We spent a couple hours at the park and then decided to head home. The boys were exhausted but I think everyone enjoyed the fresh air, I know I did. It's amazing what a breath of fresh air will do after being cooped up inside for months on end riding out the winter.

  Jacob got the boys ready for bed and I went around shutting the windows and locking everything up for the night. There's that feeling again, that sinking feeling. I dwelled on it for a minute and then shook it off and went upstairs to bed. Whatever it was it could wait.

  The next morning we did our usual routine. The boys were upstairs getting ready and I went downstairs to prepare breakfast. (I take my showers after everyone leaves so the house is less hectic and I get some peace and quiet.) The first thing I noticed when I got downstairs was the cold draft. I knew it was warmer yesterday but it still was in the fifties last night. Had I left a window open? I did a quick scan of the living room and kitchen and sure enough one of the windows was hanging wide open. I went over and closed it as fast as I could to stop the draft, all the while cursing and muttering to myself that I was stupid enough to leave a window open. Once the window was closed I ran over and flipped the heat on, the thermostat read 57 degrees. It was too damn cold in here!

  After that was taken care of I headed towards the kitchen to start breakfast. While in the kitchen I noticed that a glass cup that most likely contained milk was on the counter next to the sink waiting to be washed. This seemed odd as I had loaded everything into the dishwasher last night. Did Jacob get up in the middle of the night and have a glass? That seemed out of character for him but I doubt it was one of the boys. They played so much last night I doubt anything could have woke them.

  I brought it up to Jacob as we were all eating breakfast. He said he didn't remember getting up last night, but it could have been a possibility. I'll admit I've gotten up in the middle of the night before a few times and didn't necessarily remember it. You're so tired you're just on auto-pilot. I believed him but I still felt uneasy about the whole thing.

  --

  Later that morning the boys had left for the bus and Jacob was getting ready to walk out the door. He grabbed his phone, wallet, and keys. He stopped in his tracks when he grabbed the keys. He just stared at them for a second. I asked him from across the room "What's wrong?"

  He sho
wed me the key chain and said, "I'm missing my house key." He pondered a moment and then said, "It must have come off the ring the other day. I'll have to get a duplicate of yours made on lunch today."

  I still had an uneasy feeling about the glass of milk on the counter this morning. Thinking about it again it happened the one night we left a window open, and now a key is missing. I may be making something out of nothing but I needed to put my mind at ease. "Can we change the locks instead," I asked him. I paused for a bit more and then added, "I left a window open last night and then found the glass of milk on the counter, and now this. I'd feel a lot more comfortable if we just got the locks changed."

  Jacob just looked at me for a few seconds. After a while he smiled and said, "Sure, I'll arrange it when I get to work." He gave me a kiss and left for work. He's always been hard to read and I couldn't tell if he was in agreement with me or if he was just humoring my paranoia, either way we're getting the locks changed and that's all that mattered.

  --

  The locksmith showed up at about ten that morning. I was engrossed in an article I was writing and didn't even hear him knock the first time. It took the doorbell ringing to get my attention. I wasn't used to having visitors during the day time. Day time was my alone time. I moved away from my 'office,' towards the door. (My office consisted of a small computer desk between the dining room and the living room.)

  I opened the door, shook hands, and shared small talk with the locksmith for a bit. He was a shorter man who was nearly as round as he was tall. His cheeks had a permanent red flushed flare to them that looked like he had been outside on a cold day. As he got to work I went back to writing. About a half hour in I offered him some coffee but he politely declined. After about an hour and a half he had changed the locks on the front door and the back sliding door and provided two copies of the keys. I handed him the check and he was gone just like that.