The full moon pressed through the thick clouds in the shifting sky. Its milky light started flooding the tidy cobblestone streets of Havenbrook, a growing small town that was the picturesque embodiment of quaint perfection. On the surface, at least.
In its East, the foaming waves of the cold Atlantic were crashing against rough and steep formations of the same cliffs that they would gnaw on and churn around, whenever the gods of weather were asleep.
The further west from the determined suicide of a hundred waves your feet would take you, the stiller the picture before your eyes would become. In the center, the town seemed like a painting that had frozen time and space in order to capture a second of fleeting perfection that would disappear, if the next moment were to arrive.
Between ravishing old allies, an impressive grand mansion was nestled, from where, as if someone had put them on replay, a soft ocean breeze carried the faint echoes of cheerful laughter out of the well-curated estate.
Behind the playfully ornamented steel gates, Sherry Jones, the co-founder of a prestigious magazine, was hosting a glamorous party. Effortlessly, she mingled with her guests in the spacious dining room. Her well-timed laughter was captivating. In her elegantly flowing dress, and with her perfectly made up face, she was the personification of sophistication, grace and success.
Flooding in through the wide windows in the ceiling, the milky moonlight was her spotlight. Whenever it hit her face, she wore it like glamorous make-up that complimented her blonde and perfectly curled hair.
Her beauty was flawless; her charm, effortless. Between sips of fizzy champagne, her soothing voice was talking about art and politics with the local elite, as if there were no topic in the world that she didn't comprehend.
She had it all. Her life was perfect. With her prestigious job, her expensive home, and her extraordinary self. With her attentive and successful husband, whose gentle hand on her back supported her through the night, and with her considerate scholarship-children, who had helped her with the party preparations. Yes, all of it would have been perfect, for sure. If she had been. However, she was not, and none of this was what she actually wanted.
To Sherry, her own life was a facade, no more than a pretense. But once it is built, it is hard to get out of it.
The moon hung high over Havenbrook and cast a silvery glow onto the streets as Sherry stepped out of the dining room. Laughter and the clinking of crystal glasses faded behind her, leaving only the soft rustles of leaves, and the distant hum of the night. It sounded exciting.
With a soft sigh, she sucked the cool air of the night into her mouth, a brief escape from the suffocating perfection inside her house.
"Hey, Sherry! You coming back?" a voice chased her down from the dining room; that of Lisa, her magazine's art director, and the closest that Sherry had to a friend.
"Just a second! I need to get some air!" She replied.
Because she was so used to it, she forced a smile, even though it couldn't reach Lisa's eyes. For a while, her glances kept on wandering between the patio door and the gates that protected the estate from the world outside.
She couldn't do it anymore, she needed to get away. From here, and maybe from herself.
That was, from her own pretense.
Hesitantly, her feet got moving. She passed a good dozen of SUWs in the parking lot, made her way across the gravel path, and reached the night porter in his booth at the ornamented gates. Half a smile on her face, he gave him a nord, and with a rattle, the gates opened up. A last glance over her shoulder, where the mansion cast its artificially bright light onto the wild romantic garden, before she walked out on everything that she had thought she wanted.
With the moonlight swirling around her petite silhouette, she wandered down the wealthiest area of town. On the surface of its well-kept streets, the shine from above was reflecting just as much as on her perfectly manicured nails. Behind her, the darkness was devouring her breathtaking estate, and the smaller it grew in her back, the darker her environment became.
She passed quaint shops and flower-lined windows, little streams, and perfectly trimmed lawns. Every now and then, she stopped to peek into a neighbor's window. Through half-open curtains, she saw picture-perfect families sitting around well-laid dining tables. It would have looked enviable, had she not known that it was fake.
As idyllic as Havenbrook looked on the surface, as fractured it was beneath it. A shiver ran down Sherry´s spine, when she glanced towards the train bridge on the outskirts of town, where between the shadows, the imperfections and outcasts of society were to be found. So you would hear in the wealthy areas out here.
When she reached the tall oak trees that lined the local park, she slowed down her pace, her glances glued to the outline of the bridge on the far horizon.
The expression on her face looked somewhat afraid, but at the same time envious.
What was it like out here?
Sherry had always been wondering. That, and whether or not she would be happier out there.
The more caught up she got in her thoughts, the less attention she paid to her environment. When a dark silhouette emerged from the shadows right next to her, she noticed it too late. Suddenly a hooded man, skinny and tall, built up in front of her. Her heart started racing, and she flinched back, trying to make out his face, but it was too dark for that.
"Excuse me," she tried to sound confident."Can I help you in some way?"
It happened too fast.
Before she could comprehend it, he lunged.
"Shut up!" She heard his low, and menacing voice as he pressed his rough hand over her mouth.
With the scent of the ocean on his palm, he muffled the scream that tried to make it off her lips. Only low remnants of it remained, before the night swallowed them, as well. Her own fear and his fingers pressed upon her lips compromised her breathing, when he dragged her away.
In her head, she heard the haunting echoes of the laughter at the party that she had left, and panic twisted in her gut as he violently thrusted her into a van. The door slammed shut. Like agitated birds, her eyes started fluttering through the darkness. The thick air carried a musty smell and crept into her lungs when she heard him right next to her. He grabbed her and tossed her around. A bit afterwards, she felt a rough rope biting into her wrists.
Get off of me, she thought, the eyes closed and her lips pressed together, when he suddenly did.
The pressure of his hands lifted off her limbs, and she heard his car keys jingling. A howl, and the engine started.
Where was he taking her?
On the drive, the car was jolting. The monotonous motions reminded her of her son. When he would teeth, she would put his carrier on top of the shaking wash machine to help him fall asleep. The memory of it reminded her that she was a mother and the scared expression on her face gave way to a flicker of strength.
This cannot be happening, she thought. I won´t let it! My children are counting on me!
She needed a plan, and tried to focus on thinking of one. Despite the fear that was still pounding inside her.
Which direction was he taking?
Where was he going?
How many bends had he taken?
She tried to count them, but the adrenaline made it hard to concentrate. She failed to hold a single thought, until all at once the jolting stopped. The turning of the key in the lock killed the humming of the engine. Nausea spread inside her when she heard him approach the back of the car..
What did he want?
Was he going to hurt her?
She hadn´t yet given herself an answer, when he rattled the door open and dragged her out.
A scream climbed onto her tongue, but before she could open her mouth, he knocked her out.
She didn't know how much time had passed when she blinked the next time. Slowly she woke up, a bleeding wound on her forehead. The mouth duct-taped, and her wrists tied together. Underneath her, a basement ground, cemented and cold, while she saw bars of steel all around her. Panic started to befall her.
She was caged.
Shook by her shock, she sat up and noticed the heavy chains that her ankles were in. She wanted to shout, she wanted to scream, but only a whiny groan made it out from underneath her tape. Blinking over and over again, her eyes were trying to scan the dark room, but she could only make out decaying walls that were dripping of moisture. Before the shadows next to her all at once started moving.
Quietly gasping, she flinched back.
Was someone there with her?
In fact, there was. A black cat, the silhouette of which was slowly emerging from the moving shadows.
Where did it come from?
Was it his?
Like angry bulls, Sherry´s thoughts were running wild when it approached. Silently purring, it started rubbing its head against her bare skin. Suddenly she felt something cold on her shoulder. Her nervously checking eyes made out a metal pendant that the cat had on its collar.
She stared at it for a while, and felt an idea growing inside her. There was a chance to escape. She could see it right in front of herself., and no matter what it would take, she would make it out of there.