Sing For Me Read Online Free

would see her.
    She took a quick shower, changed, and left the house.
    She kept her head low as she headed to the car, just as she did when she got to the house.
    The neighbors had always looked at her weirdly, especially after her stay in the psychiatric hospital. Her mother’s loud tirades in public never helped either.
    Pulling the seat belt over herself, she remembered the place she used to escape to whenever she wanted to be away from everyone.
    A small open space by the river surrounded by firs and pines.
    She could almost see the scene now, see the colors caused by the water that sometimes streamed down from higher grounds and spilled out from among the trees into the river below.
    Sometimes she’d close her eyes and listen to the sound; sometimes she’d simply sit for hours and watch light, ethereal colors fill the place.
    It was her secret paradise. Her second place of refuge.
    The water in that part of the river was too strong for fishing, and the spot was off the usual tracks that hikers usually took.
    She and Christopher had discovered it by accident when they were young.
    The desire to see the place overtook her hunger, and she turned the car, wondering if her paradise had remained the same.
    She was hopeful. After all, in the short drive from her parents’ house, she noticed most of the houses looked the same. Even Mr. Bailey’s red beat-up car that had the most choppy engine was still parked outside his house.
    As she turned the car into the familiar road, she unbuckled her seatbelt, ready to park the car. That was when she noticed the road that cut into the woods.
    That road didn’t exist when she was living here. There was a hiking trail nearby, but not a road.
    She drove up to the road and noticed the sign, Private Property .
    Oh well, she wasn’t sure where this road led anyway, and she might end up lost.
    As she got out of the car, she pinched her lips and wondered if someone had built a house by the river.
    No, please don’t let that be true. That was her place.
    It wasn’t really hers, of course. She didn’t own the land, but she had always thought of it as hers—and Christopher’s.
    She tipped her head back and stretched her hands over her head as she took a deep breath. This was the one place in Dunsmuir she could relax.
    Here, she didn’t have to pretend she didn’t notice the strange stares people cast over their shoulders. Here, she didn’t have to ignore the murmurs about her sanity.
    She especially loved to hike through the trail in winter. Everything was so still, so quiet. She could always come here to escape the explosion of colors either from her parents or from the rest of the world.
    She could see the colors wafting around her as she got nearer to the river.
    The colors created by nature, despite how colorful they may be, were usually soothing. The colors didn’t carry any hint of darkness, and they always felt light and airy. Even in severe storms, the colors only got more intense, but they never gave her headaches or overwhelmed her.
    The colors floated closer to her as she breathed in, and her smile broadened as the river finally came into sight.
    She missed this place so much, but as she stepped out from the trees, her heart sank.
    A modern rectangular two-story house stood right beside where she and Christopher used to lounge.  
    Who built this house? She squinted from where she was, trying to peer into the house through the full-length clear glass panels that framed most of the house.
    She adjusted her scarf as heated air rose from her chest to her neck, but almost as instantly as the anger rose, it subsided while an aching sadness took over.
    I want to look out at the river while I write. She could almost see herself talking to Christopher as they sat by the river.
    That was years ago, when they were still young and naive.
    Who was she kidding? This wasn’t her place. It was simply a place she and Christopher escaped to.
    She shook her head as she thought about the