This is a Suspense Thriller Series Starter Like No Other...

Wayward Strangers

They will come for me in the morning, the social people, but I won’t be home. This house I love—the one where I was born and raised—is no longer mine. I’m not sure what will become of it, nor in truth do I have the immediate luxury to care. I simply have to go before they catch me.

I’m not a criminal. Far from it. But it won’t stop them from showing up, taking me away, and putting me in a juvenile home of some sort until they figure out what my best interests might be.

As if they’d know.

I’ve already said my goodbyes to my family, and as soon as possible, I’ll be long gone. If I’m lucky enough to catch a ride, I’ll be out of the state by the time they realize I’ve left. After that, it won’t be long before I’m forgotten…a footnote in a harried caseworker’s files.

The reason I have to leave ultimately came down to nothing more than a simple twist of misfortune, though the emotional toll it has taken on me is something almost too difficult to bear. But the burden to carry on is mine alone now, and I’ll do it to the best of my ability, no matter the pain I feel, a pain I fear might be with me for the rest of my life.

There is a fundamental law of physics so simple in its origins that one might not notice—let alone ponder—the depths from which it came, nor the path to where it might lead. The question then, is this: How could a simple hole in our roof bring about such a change in my life?

Rainwater splashed against the shingles, a torrential downpour that sounded like gravel being dumped on top of our house. The droplets arced away from their point of impact, the residual wetness of their existence no more immune to the pull of gravity than any other force of nature. The water traveled across the surface of the shingles and eventually found a way to wick itself under the protective layer of tarpaper where it made contact with the wood. In time, the water soaked through the wood, saturated the insulation of the attic, and found its way to the plaster of the ceiling. When it finally penetrates the inner barrier and drips into the existence of our lives, it is, without question, the beginning of something that will take my family from me in ways I never would have imagined. This is how the story begins. With simplicity.

With a hole in our roof.