X Marks the Spot

16 - A New Life

Paige's morning routine living on the curb of the street with no name had been no different to the rest of her day there: miserable and cold. She'd wake up, feeling sore and shaking snow out of her hair. She had no schedule and nothing to care about. She'd often questioned why she was still alive, until she thought of Michael, her only friend and saviour.

Living with Clementine was like being born again. When she'd first started living on the streets at only 17, she'd constantly told herself that everything would be okay. Being homeless was only temporary; she'd be back on her feet before she knew it. However, when Paige had realised that she hadn't had a home in nearly a year, she grew to accept her life for what it was. Every day only got duller and lonelier.

If someone had told Paige when she was a teenager that she would live on the streets for over 14 years, she would have laughed at them, or worse; she hadn't been the most mannerly child. She had been reckless and made more mistakes than she cared to admit. Now, when she looked back on it, she had come to understand that some of those mistakes had cost her more than her life; they had cost Paige's will to live.

However, when Paige had realised she wouldn't get her old life back, if someone had told her that one day she would have a home and someone who cared about her in her life, she wouldn't even thought of believing them. Her train of thought had become almost hysterical; she'd convinced herself that her fate was to be homeless until the day she died - perhaps it was karma for all of the people she'd hurt through her ignorance and selfishness.

Living with Clementine was like a fresh start; she had a home, food and a friend. The best thing about Clementine was that she didn't know anything about Paige's life, with the exception of her friendship with Michael. Her life was like a blank slate, and Paige was happy to deceive Clementine about her past if it meant having a home. It wasn't fair on Clementine, but Paige rarely considered right or wrong anymore; survival came first.

Paige didn't take her new life lightly; she knew how bad things could get if she didn't make the best of it and she knew how easily it could be taken away from her.

Clementine still had a job despite her age, so Paige made an effort to pull her weight; she'd cook breakfast before Clementine left the house, and as soon as she left, she would clean, or tidy, or otherwise perform any task that would improve Clementine's opinion of her. She wanted to show her gratitude, but also wanted Clementine to approve of her, so she wouldn't think she had made a mistake in inviting Paige into her home.

It had been almost a week since Paige had moved in. Clementine had lent her some money for clothes and other necessities, which she looked forward to paying back; she'd recently applied for a job as a secretary for a small publishing firm.

The snow was still falling and showed no signs of stopping. Paige had found it to be a vexation when she hadn't had a roof over her head, but she took delight in seeing it from her bedroom window. She heard movements coming from Clementine's room, so eagerly got dressed and started to make breakfast.

Clementine met her in the kitchen, dressed in a pantsuit and although Paige greeted her with a smile, as she did every morning, she thought of Clementine with concern. She'd act like nothing was wrong, but Paige suspected she was more fragile than she wanted to let on. She avoided mentioning Michael; although all Paige could feel here was Michael's absence, she understood that people grieved in different ways. Today, however, she knew she had to say something. She had to find some clue as to who or where the killer might be.

She served breakfast for Clementine and sat across from her as she ate. "So," she began. She understood that the conversation wasn't going to be comfortable. "I wanted to ask you something about the office upstairs."

When Paige had first moved in, Clementine had showed her around the house. Upstairs, there had been two bedrooms, a bathroom and another room that Clementine hadn't shown her. When she'd asked what it was, Clementine would only tell her that it was Michael's study. Paige was intrigued as to what Michael did in there, as he was unemployed, but Clementine didn't open the door, and Paige felt it would have been rude to inquire further.

Clementine didn't reply, so Paige elaborated. "If Michael really did know who X was, surely he would have written it down somewhere or -"

"I'm sorry, Paige," Clementine said impassively. "I don't want anybody going in there."

"But -"

"Leave it be."

Paige didn't think it was useless to persevere, but she had to respect how Clementine felt. It was her house, after all. They made light conversation until Clementine had to go to work. As soon as she did, Paige ascended the stairs, and feeling a faint sense of guilt, she pressed down on the handle of the study.

"Damn it," she murmured to herself. It was locked. Paige searched for the key all around the house, but concluded Clementine must have taken it with her to keep Paige out of the office. Paige only had two options at this stage: she could give up, or try to convince Clementine to open the office. However, she wouldn't even consider giving up as an option until hope was completely drained from her life, and that wouldn't happen as long as she had a home.