First Chapter of Little Last Words by Cheryl Bradshaw

Penelope Barlow leaned back in the driver’s seat, her thoughts drifting to the events that had taken place over the last several weeks of her life. It had been almost a month since she’d moved back to the seaside town of Cambria, California. After spending the last six years in a verbally abusive relationship, she’d packed some bags, waiting for the night she’d find the courage to leave Dean for good.

Courage came at long last when Dean accused Penelope of smiling at another man while they were out for dinner. After they returned home, he’d hit her for the first time, striking her so hard across the face it sent her hurtling onto the wall. She’d slumped to the ground, curling into a ball as she waited for subsequent blows to come, even though they didn’t.

He spent the next hour apologizing, but it was too late. In that moment, she’d realized it was time for the hell she’d been living through to be over.

She waited for Dean to fall asleep and then tiptoed her way to her five-year-old daughter’s room to play a secret game they’d been practicing. The game was simple. All Sadie had to do was follow Mommy out of the house without making a peep. If she made it inside Mommy’s car without waking Daddy, Sadie would be rewarded with two scoops of ice cream the next day.

That night, mother and daughter fled toward a fresh start in a familiar town, the same town where Penelope had been raised. Family and friends welcomed them with open arms, ready and willing to offer their help and support.

Life was full of new beginnings in the tight-knit community, a town brimming with old memories.

Some memories were good, like the first kiss she’d had in the ninth grade.

Some were bad, like the argument she’d had with her mother after high school graduation.

There were other memories still, some she didn’t like to think about.

As her thoughts returned to the present, Penelope peered into the rearview mirror and smiled. Sadie was fast asleep in her car seat, her head tipped to the side. Her arms were wrapped around a stuffed pink koala, a gift from her grandmother. Staring at her daughter now, Penelope noticed how peaceful and content she seemed, a lot more content than the child had been in a long time.

Turning down the street toward home, Penelope rolled to a stop in front of one of the smaller homes on the street. It was the first place she’d ever lived on her own. At twenty-seven-years old, it felt good to stand on her own two feet, providing a life for her and her daughter.

Penelope opened the driver’s-side door, and Sadie’s eyes popped open.

She yawned, rubbed her eyes, and said, “Mommy, I’m tired.”

“I know, honey. Let’s get you into your pajamas, and then you can go to bed.”

Sadie shook her head. “I don’t wanna go to bed yet.”

Penelope laughed, unbuckled Sadie’s car seat, and scooped her into her arms. “I’m sure you don’t, but it’s after your bedtime. Mommy’s going to bed soon too.”

“Can you read me a story first? Pleeeease?”

Penelope considered the request. “All right. A quick one.”

“Oh…kay.”

Half a story later, Sadie was fast asleep in her mother’s arms. Penelope tucked her daughter into bed, gave her a kiss on the forehead, and went outside to get the groceries she’d left in the trunk of the car. She took the first load into the house and went back for the second. In the distance, a neighbor’s dog began to bark. Soon after, the dog was joined by a second and then a third, until all the dogs in the neighborhood seemed to be barking in unison.

Penelope took one last look around and grabbed the two remaining bags and brought them in. After the groceries were put away and a quick check on Sadie, Penelope crossed the hall into her bedroom. If there was one thing she needed right now, it was a shower. But when she stepped into the bathroom and flicked the light switch, the light didn’t come on. It seemed odd—there were five bulbs in the light panel, and all of them had been working this morning.

How could all of them burn out on the same day?

Maybe they had, or maybe it was an electrical problem.

She checked her bedside lamps, the light in the closet, and the one on the balcony just off to the side of her room.

All those lights turned on, which made the situation even odder.

Penelope made a mental note to speak to her mother about it in the morning, and then she stripped off her dress and grabbed a large, three-wick candle out of the hall closet. She set the candle on the bathroom counter and turned, watching the soft glow of the candle’s flames cast flickers of shadows along the bathroom wall.

Pulling back the shower curtain, she froze.

Someone was behind the curtain, someone who grabbed her by the hair, jerking her forward as they uttered the last words Penelope would ever hear: “You didn’t really think I wouldn’t find out. Did you?”​