Chapter 1 Release of WIP: "I'll Be Home Soon"

I'll Be Home Soon is the unofficial title for my current WIP. It is a suspense/thriller meets New Adult novel following Arthur Parcell, a psuedo-empathetic sociopath, and his victim, Amber Sullivan, a headstrong, young woman struggling to find a trustworthy partner thanks to secret Arthur's interference. As Arthur secretly encroaches deeper into Amber's life, will she fall prey to his sinister obsession, or prove herself to be an apex predator.

I'll Be Home Soon

1a. Arthur Parcell

While the wind scratched dried leaves along the street, Arthur Parcell sat in his idling SUV, observing Amber bundled up on the couch with the TV's light glazing over her. He unlocked his phone and pressed the record button. “I hate to see you like this, Amber. Pajamas on at 2pm, bingeing your comfort show, mourning the loss of a less-than. Did he light your world so much that you should wilt when he is gone? When I am the sun graced by your enchantment, dusk will be just a memory.”

              He knew Amber usually showered at 3pm on her days off, so he stopped recording and waited. Crisp leaves ticked subtly against his car as they fell from shaking tree branches. Just before the clock struck 3pm, he snapped pictures of her home, a two-story house with dark blue siding, double-car driveway, and attached garage. Swiping between the new and old picture, he noticed a small piece of siding fell crooked. He pulled a handheld notebook from his flannel shirt pocket and scratched “siding” under a list of crossed out words. 

              The living room went dark when she turned the TV off, tossed the covers next to her, and walked upstairs. When the light in the second-floor bathroom flicked on, Arthur reached for a hard hat in the backseat of his car, put it on, and stepped out with a clipboard. Deceptively, he scanned power lines hanging overhead, pointing at them with his pen, and trailed them to her house before slinking into the backyard. 

              Casually opening the back door, Arthur slipped his shoes off as he entered and closed it silently. The sound of Amber singing under rushing water muffled through the floor, and Arthur hummed along as he inspected the kitchen meticulously. Seeing Amber’s planner on the counter, he carefully opened it to this week. He knew she went to yoga after work on Tuesday and Thursday, and she always visited her mom on Friday after showering, but he was surprised to see “Marco’s, 5pm” scribbled in for Saturday. “Who the hell is Marco?” he whispered.

              Frustrated, he pulled out his phone, took a picture of her schedule for next week, and slammed the planner shut. He took a calming breath and wiped his face, sliding his feet to the living room, and plopping into her spot on the couch. He closed his eyes for just a moment and breathed Amber’s home in. The smell of hazelnut candles, lemon raspberry ice cream, and hot apple cider pulled a relaxed smile across his face as he continued humming with Amber’s singing, gracefully conducting with his hands. 

              He pulled a strip of paper out of his pocket with “ Lexi <3 716-555-097 ” written across it. He folded it neatly and stuffed it in the crack of the couch, hoping she would find it next time she sat down. Delicately, he rubbed his hand on the arm of the couch when the water and singing stopped abruptly. His heart sank as he launched himself from the couch and crept silently to the back door. Just as he was slipping his foot into his shoe, he locked his eyes on a purple knitted cap lying on the counter, and the muscles in his face tightened as creaking echoes from the stairway dared him to snatch it. 

              Just as Arthur pulled the door shut, light cascaded from the window. He crawled under it and stood before walking out of the backyard and inspecting the powerlines of the neighbors on his way to the SUV. After closing himself in the driver seat, Arthur grasped the steering wheel and shook it violently before slamming his hard hat on the passenger floor. His hands pounced frantically for his phone, forcefully punching the unlock code and hitting record. “Amber, I love you, but another one already?” He tightened his grip on the phone, practically shoving it into his mouth after hitting record. “They’re all lying cheaters, Amber! It’s been a week, and you’re ready to jump into the arms of another scoundrel!” Arthur sighed. “He’s not the one, Amber. Marco, Aric, Ryan, they don’t get you, yet you give them EVERYTHING YOU HAVE.” He released a deep, long exhale, and calmly said, “You know I will be there for you, always, I just need you to be patient.”

              With her hair wrapped in a towel, Amber watched TV, and Arthur stared through her front window. She ceremoniously called her mother before getting dressed, scrambling for clothes, and shutting the lights off on her way out. Arthur watched the leaves follow behind her car as she pulled out of her driveway, and a blanket of cold fell over his shoulders as she turned out of sight. Starting his car, he turned on his Dasher app. 

              Sure that Amber would stay late visiting her mother, Arthur made a few deliveries before heading home. He passed abandoned homes with collapsing roofs before reaching a dilapidated house with boarded windows, chipping paint, overgrown grass, and an empty pull through garage missing both doors. He turned into the driveway, through the garage, and parked in the dark backyard.

              Arthur opened his door to the humming of a generator, and as he stepped out, the mossed-over back door swung open. “Artie, you’re home!” said Roman with doe eyes and a smile stretched across his unshaven face. 

              “Hey, Ro. You been good today?”

              “Yes!” He bent over to pick up an orange extension cord. “I bought a new cord like you said. Heavy duty!”

              “Thanks, bud. You eat today?”

              “Nope!” Roman disappeared back into the house. 

              Arthur pulled a bag from the back seat and walked through the open door. The water damaged walls smelled of peat moss, and they were riddled with holes. The tile floors leading to the kitchen were cracked, and the refrigerator was duct taped shut. As Arthur set the bag on the grime-covered, plywood countertop, Roman asked, “What’s that?”

              “Burgers. My last delivery cancelled after I picked it up. Want one?”

              “Yup!” Roman tore the bag open, grabbed a Styrofoam container, and walked into the living room.

              “No ketchup?”

              “No, thanks” echoed through the archway. Arthur opened the only cupboard with a door, revealing a plastic container of condiment packets, bags of generic beef jerky lying beside it, and cans of fruit cocktail stacked behind them. He plucked a few packets into his palm, tossed them into the bag, and carried it into the living room. 

              The white carpet spattered with black stains was torn, exposing soft, rotted wood, and the room smelled of wood shavings and pickle brine. The floor formed to each step like soft mud as he set the bag on milk crates fashioned into a coffee table, then sat on the stool next to it. 

              “How’s the burger, Ro?”

              Roman responded blankly through a full mouth, “It’s good!”

              “What’d you do today?” Arthur asked, hoping Roman would stop chewing before responding. 

              Roman muffled through a full mouth, “Nothin’.”

              “Well, you went to the store at least, right?”

              “Sure did!”

              “How’d that go?” Arthur chewed as he listened. 

              Roman chewed, “Good. I looked at extension cords. Maybe, you can go with me next time.”

              “Yeah, maybe. We’ll see when we need something again.” The sound of food squelching between their teeth filled the room, and they stared at a blank TV, moss growing in the corners of the carpet, and leafy vines climbing up the mangled stairway. When Roman finished, he grabbed the Styrofoam container, walked to a garbage bag lying on the floor, and tossed it on top of it. 

              “C’mon, Roman, you know better.”

              Roman snapped, “I do?.” Arthur’s shoulders fell light as he tilted his head and stared at Roman silently. Roman remained a statue until Arthur started to stand. Roman flinched, insisting, “I’m fixing it.” As Arthur sat back down and continued eating, Roman anxiously stuffed the container in the bag and let it fall to the ground again. “See, we fixed it.” Roman stared at Arthur as he finished his food, “I don’t want to make a mess, right?”

              “Right. Thank you, Roman.” Arthur crumpled his wrappers into the plastic bag and stood. “You want to go listen to your radio for a little while?”

              “I do!”

              “Awesome, I’ll be in my room if you need me. What’re you going to listen to?”

              Roman stretched a wide smile across his face and gave Arthur a thumbs up. “Katy Perry! Edge of Glory!” 

              “Again, huh? Well, have fun.”

              Roman exclaimed, “Okay. Will do!,” then marched to a dingey door leaning on the wall next to the stairway, effortlessly lifting it to reveal a room with clothes and junk cluttering the discolored rug, and ratty posters clinging to the peeling wallpaper. He spun and walked backwards into the room, and set the door back in its place before music roared from behind it. 

              After putting his garbage in the bag, Arthur climbed the stairway, carefully placing his feet on the edge of each step to avoid the cracks and holes. The upstairs hallway was floored with stained and scraped hardwood, and carpet grippers with torn threads lined the swollen baseboards. Arthur tiptoed down the hallway until he reached a bright red door with dark stains splashed across it. 

He sensually wrapped his hand around the patina doorknob and took a deep breath before twisting it slowly. With a slow exhale, his muscles relaxed, and his shoulders dropped as the door opened. The light blinked a few times before illuminating a large picture of Amber on the wall surrounded by organized photos, documents, and writing tied together with red, white, and black string. Quickly stepping onto the clean, tan rug and closing the door, Arthur’s ears perked up as he started humming Amber’s song from the shower, prancing across the room to a window plastered in newspaper. 

He lifted a black binder from the windowsill, flipped to a picture of a young man stepping out of a red sports car, the name “Aric” written in red under it. Arthur bobbed his head while humming as he grabbed a black marker from the sill and wrote, “OUT” over Aric’s name. Smiling, Arthur flipped the pages quickly with his thumb, and a blur of red and black fluttered from the pages. He clammed the binder shut and dropped it back down before grabbing the vacuum from the corner of the room. While it whirred over the rug, Arthur danced with it, spinning with his eyes closed until he dipped it back romantically and looked up at a mannequin dressed in tight jeans, a neat, white t-shirt, and a burgundy puffer jacket.

The vacuum fell to the floor, and he recoiled his head slightly with a twisted look. Lunging at the collar of the jacket, he looked at the tag, and sniffed the coat up and down. “Amber, this isn’t yours. I’m…I’m so sorry!” He peeled the jacket off of her, yanking it from her arms and throwing it to the floor. He dusted her shoulders off lightly and sighed, “I’ll be right back, I promise.” He pulled the purple hat from his pocket, and put it over the mannequin’s head. After lightly stroking its chin with the back of his hand, he turned abruptly, marching out of the room and down the hall, jacket clenched. 

Speeding down the stairs, the wood cracked and bent under his foot, and he tumbled to avoid falling through the steps. He yelled, “Goddammit” as he shambled back to his feet, and Roman moved the door in front of his room to look out inquisitively. 

“You okay, Artie?”, he asked sheepishly.

Grasping the jacket in his hand, Arthur held it up to Roman’s face. “What the hell is this, Roman?”

Roman’s face turned red as he looked down and muttered, “I thought she was cold.”

Arthur’s petrifying stare jumped between Roman’s eyes. He grumbled, “Roman, you know you aren’t allowed upstairs.” 

“It was cold…”

Arthur squinted his eyes, and shook his head with tight lips, chewing on the words that desperately wanted to break past them. He clenched the jacket tighter, holding it closer to Roman’s cheek, and calmly said, “This is not Amber’s. Put it back. Please.”

Roman’s eyes moved blankly between Arthur and the jacket before grabbing it from him slowly and walking toward a stain-covered door across the room. Arthur followed behind, and when Roman reached the door, he hesitated to put his hand on the knob. “Roman…” Arthur insisted with his hand on Roman’s shoulder. Trembling, Roman grasped the doorknob, and the smell of onion, sawdust, and stagnant water wafted through the doorway as it opened. The dark room had piles of clothes and personal effects across the floor: mittens, underwear, shirts, jeans, jackets, purses, and wallets. 

Roman turned away and buried his face in Arthur’s chest. “Close it, Artie!”

Arthur pushed his hand harder into Roman’s shoulder. “Put the jacket back.” Roman tried to pull away, but Arthur wrapped his arm around him. “Roman, if you put it back, this is all over. Just throw it in!” Roman groaned as he turned stiffly and tossed the jacket on one of the piles. 

Roman dove back into Arthur’s chest and sobbed, closing the door behind him to dispel the stench. Arthur pushed Roman far enough away to look him in the eye. “Roman, I never want you in that room again, or mine, okay?”

Roman, avoiding eye contact, mumbled, “I’m sorry.”

Arthur looked him up and down. “It’s okay.” He hugged Roman again, rustled his hair, and said, “Now go listen to music.”