Someone Else's Life: Book One - Discovery

By Jennifer Zwaniga

A two-hundred-year-old plantation home, a mysterious locked room, an obsessive attraction to a boy, and a family with a secret...

For teenage, Keri Lawrence, spending a summer at her grandmother’s house turns out to be anything but the long, boring summer she anticipates. From the moment she arrives, she knows something isn’t quite right, and she soon starts experiencing intensified nightmares, strange visions, and moments of lost time.

With its haunting pull, Keri is convinced that the visions she is experiencing are somehow connected to the mysterious locked room at the end of the upstairs hallway and that it is the key to solving the mystery of what is happening to her.

Keri’s family has a secret—a secret they are keeping from her. And she is determined to find out what it is.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jennifer Zwaniga
• Release date: May 27, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458130716

Jennifer Zwaniga

I am a mother of two who works full time as a Technical Communicator at a mid-sized software company and writes in my spare time. I enjoy writing for young adults and currently have 4 YA novels published.I also enjoy painting (though I haven't had time for it in years) and spending time with family and friends.

Book preview

Someone Else’s Life: Book One - Discovery

Jennifer Zwaniga

Copyright © 2011 by Jennifer Zwaniga

Smashwords Edition

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

CHAPTER 1

With her arms folded tightly across her chest, Keri Lawrence stared out the car window as her father pulled up the lengthy, gravel driveway of her grandmother’s South Carolina plantation home. To say the drive from the Charleston International airport had been tense would be an understatement. Keri glared at her father. How can he do this to me?

As the house came into view, Keri realized it was not the decrepit building she had imagined, but a grand home on a huge, tree-studded property. The white house, with its four twenty-foot pillar columns, was symmetrically proportioned. If you divided it down the middle, one side was the mirror image of the other. Eight identical windows at the front of the house were framed with dark green wooden shutters. The front stairs led to a cozy porch with a white wicker rocking chair with a green plaid cushion, and to the double front doors. Above the porch, off the upper level, were a balcony of equal size and another set of double doors. The house even had two chimneys.

It’s something, isn’t it? her father asked.

Realizing she'd been staring wide-eyed with her mouth slightly open, Keri caught herself and snapped into form. She shrugged, still determined not to speak to him.

Laughing, her father shook his head. That house is over two-hundred years old. You can’t tell me you aren’t impressed with it, at least a little.

Breaking, Keri said, It’s a house, Dad. It’s not like I’ve never seen one before. Besides, I’ve seen bigger and better.

Did your mother ever tell you this house has been in her family since it was built in the late 1700s?

No, she didn’t tell me. Keri rolled her eyes. Since when does Mom tell me anything about anything?

Let’s not get started on that again. Stop blaming your mother for everything.

Why not blame Mom? If she wasn’t in that dumb hospital, suffering from yet another major depression, I wouldn’t be forced to spend the summer with some old women I’ve never even met.

Dad parked the car, turned off the ignition and pointed in the direction of the house. Look, there’s your grandmother.

Keri glanced over and saw a white-haired lady waving enthusiastically from the front porch. She did a quick calculation and figured her grandmother had to be damn near seventy years old. How could her parents honestly believe she was better off staying with an old relic—who could drop dead at any moment—than being at home alone?

Her father hurried out of the car and sprinted to the passenger side, waving and calling out his hellos. He opened Keri’s door and motioned her out. Come on. Your grandmother is waiting to meet you.

Keri didn’t budge. She sighed deeply and snapped her head in the other direction.

Her father’s voice became dangerously low. He spoke slowly, emphasizing each word. Okay, Keri Abigail Lawrence. I have had absolutely enough of your attitude. I’m going to go say hello to your grandmother, and I expect you at my side within the next thirty seconds.

She knew he meant it, too. It took a lot to push him to the point where he cursed at her and used her full name. She thought better of continuing her defiance, at least for the moment. She watched as her father and grandmother hugged. Reluctantly, Keri stepped out of the car and, with leaden feet, forced herself to take the first steps toward them.

As she studied the house, Keri was struck with a queer feeling something about it wasn’t right. A shiver ran up and down her spine. She reached deep into her memory searching for the nagging piece of lost information that might explain the strange sensation. The excited, shrill voice of the old fossil interrupted her thoughts.

My goodness. Just look at you. She approached Keri, arms outstretched, surprisingly spry for a woman of her age. You’ve gone ahead and grown right up on me. She pulled Keri into her for a hug.

Stiffening, Keri kept her arms glued at her side. She didn’t know this woman and she was acting like they were long lost friends. As soon as her grandmother loosened her hold, Keri pulled away and took a step backward, putting some much-needed space between them.

I’m so excited to have you here.

Keri questioned how excited she could be. In the nearly sixteen years of Keri’s life, this grandmother—who was so excited to see her—had never once come for a visit. And her parents had brought her to visit all of—oh let’s see—zero times.

Keri. This is your grandmother, Martha Jefferson. Keri’s father placed his hand gently on Martha’s shoulder. I can’t tell you how good it is to see you. It’s been far too long. You look wonderful.

Wonderful? How does he figure? She’s old. She has white hair, wrinkles, age spots and glasses. What’s so wonderful about that? Unless not being dead is the only qualification one needs for looking wonderful.

Her grandmother chuckled with appreciation and waved her hand at him. Ah, Donald. You always were full of the compliments. It’s no wonder Julie fell in love with you.

GAG!

Well, come on, Martha said, clapping her hands together. Come inside. Let’s not stand out here all day. She led the way up the stairs and into the house, all the while muttering to herself about how grand it was to have them here after all these years.

Keri huffed and followed Dad and Martha into the house. She stepped through the front door and, without thought, started toward the winding, ornately carved, dark oak stairway to her right. She had taken the first few steps onto the burgundy carpet runner when her dad interrupted.

Keri? Where are you going?

To my room. Grasping the railing, she stopped in her tracks, all at once realizing how ridiculous she sounded. What made her think she knew where her room was? And why was she interested in going to it anyway—other than escaping Dad and Martha, of course?

You might want to wait until it’s offered. His disapproval was evident in his tone. Perhaps you might even want to visit with your grandmother for a while first.

Keri stepped off the stairs, properly reprimanded, and properly pissed at her father for embarrassing her. She hated when he treated her like a child, like she didn’t have any manners. Maybe I don’t feel like visiting right now, she snapped. Maybe I don’t even want to be here at all.

She saw the hurt look on Martha’s face, but she didn’t care.

Keri! Dad said, sharply. That’s enough.

Oh dear. Martha sighed, placing her wrinkled hand on Donald’s arm. It’s okay, Don. If Keri wants to go to her room, that’s fine. Maybe she needs to get settled. Why don’t you go have a seat in the living room and I’ll show her to her room.

You don’t have to do that. Just tell me where to go and I’ll find it myself.

Dad scowled at her, but didn’t say another word.

Well, sure. Of course, Martha stammered. It’s up the stairs, second door on the right.

As Keri made her way up the stairs, Martha called up behind her, I bought a computer for you. It’s in your room. There’s a TV and DVD player in there too. I want you to feel at home here.... Her uncertain voice trailed off as Keri rounded the corner at the top of the stairs.

The last thing she heard was her father’s voice, once again apologizing for his daughter’s rude behavior. Keri’s face heated up as she entered her room, slamming the door behind her. It’s not fair. She thought about her best friend, Rachel, wishing she were spending the summer with her instead. But they wouldn’t be back from their European vacation for a month. At least Rachel was going to come for a visit for a couple weeks at the end of the summer.

Keri checked out what would be her prison for the next two months. The room was spacious enough, but the decorating was too grandmotherly for her taste. It had a double bed covered with a floral quilt, two dressers, a desk, a cushioned chair next to the window, and a small bathroom. And as promised, there was a computer, TV and DVD player. At least Martha had enough brains to realize a teenage girl couldn’t be expected to survive an entire summer without that stuff.

Keri looked out the window beyond the lush gardens of the property, half expecting to see a cotton field. The trees were so big—almost too big it seemed—to see much of anything beyond the property boundaries, but she could see enough to know there was no cotton field. Of course there isn’t. Just because this was a cotton plantation two hundred years ago, doesn’t mean it still is. What a stupid thing to think. They probably sold off most of the land ages ago.

Flopping down on the bed, Keri stared at the ceiling. It felt weird to be here, to be in the house where her mother grew up. Though the home, for the most part, seemed completely foreign to her, an unexplainable feeling of familiarity nagged at her. It didn’t make any sense.

She thought, not for the first time, how strange it was she’d never even seen a picture of the house. Mom had lived here right up until the time she married Keri’s father. And yet, Keri couldn’t recall having ever seen a picture of it. Nor had she seen many pictures of her mom from before the time Keri was born. It was almost as if that time in Mom’s life hadn’t existed.

Keri suddenly had a strong urge to write in her journal. Damn, she muttered when she realized it was packed away in her suitcase and still out in the car.

She had been journal writing regularly since she was ten years old. Rachel often teased her about it, saying it was so old fashioned to write in a diary nowadays. Rachel simply couldn’t get it through her head that there were some things she just didn’t want to plaster on her My Space site for the whole Internet world to read. It didn’t matter that she could control who was allowed to read it—she didn’t trust her deepest thoughts wouldn’t end up out there in cyberspace. Besides, there was something comforting in writing in a journal, something she felt deeply compelled to do.

But since she didn’t have her journal to write in, she opted for the next best thing—an email to Rachel. She needed to blow off some steam anyway. She started up her computer and logged onto her Hotmail account, started a new message and began to type.

Hey R,

How’s the vacation going? Meet any hot European guys yet? I can’t believe I have to spend an entire summer in hell, all alone. I arrived at Martha’s (my grandmother) a while ago. It so sucks. She did buy me a computer, though. Thank goodness. If I can’t see you, at least I’ll be able to write. Hope you get a chance to check your email soon.

So, my dad is all pissed at me. But I don’t care. I’m not exactly thrilled with him right now, either. We fought the entire way here. And my mom—don’t even go there. I’m so sick and tired of all her stupid breakdowns and mental problems. Every time she pulls this crap, I’m the one who pays for it. What the heck does she have to be so depressed and miserable about anyway? She has a family, a husband (who sticks around and supports her through all her shit). She doesn’t even have to work.

I’m tired of her acting like she doesn’t even have a daughter; going about her life ignoring me and then throwing in a big ‘poor me’ breakdown for good measure every few years. If anyone deserves a mental breakdown, it’s me. Not that I’m looking for one.

Anyhow, the house is big—really old. I had the strangest feeling when I first saw it. I can’t explain it. It creeped me out enough for me to rethink my opinion about ghosts. If any place could make me a believer, I think this is it. Ooh, I don’t even want to think about that.

Gotta go. My dad’s knocking at the door.

Hope you’re having a better time than I am.

K.

Her dad knocked on the door again. Keri, can I come in? I have your suitcases.

Yeah, she muttered. She hit send on her email and logged off.

Dad entered the room and set her suitcases down next to her bed. He rubbed his chin, eyebrows furrowed. He sighed heavily, like he wanted to say something but didn’t know how to begin. Whatever it was, Keri was sure she didn’t want to hear it. She remained silent, still angry.

I wish you would be more understanding about things, he started softly. I know this hasn’t been easy for you, for any of us. But behaving like this isn’t going to make things any easier. You need to accept the situation and you need to get yourself downstairs and visit with your grandmother.

Keri glared.

Dad shook his head. Why do you have to be like this? I’m leaving first thing in the morning. I have to get back to Mom. It would be nice if you came down and spent a bit of time with us before I go.

Keri threw her arms in the air in frustration, blood flushing her cheeks. "Just once I wish somebody would think about me for a change! Everything is always about Mom. It’s all her fault I’m stuck here. And you, you’re going to dump me here too, abandon me with some old lady I don’t know and then try to make me feel bad that I’m not thinking about you. It’s not fair. How can you do this to me?"

Keri, be reasonable.

I am reasonable! She took a step toward him, her voice rising in pitch. If you’re going to leave, why don’t you just go? Who needs you anyway?

Ker—

Leave me alone. Go away.

Keri.

I mean it. Get out!

Okay. If that’s the way you want to be, I’ll leave.

Good. She followed him toward the door. A lump filled her throat, and she swallowed hard.

Dad paused and looked at her, a combination of anger and sorrow in his green eyes. I hate for things to be like this between us. When he realized she wasn’t going to respond, he sighed and headed down the hallway toward the stairs. I’ll be downstairs with your grandmother, if you change your mind.

She wasn’t going to change her mind. She wanted to be left alone. Keri slipped out into the hallway behind her dad and stood at the top of the stairs, staring down at him as he disappeared into the living room. She could hear the muffled voices of her father and Martha, suspecting her father was making some excuse for her unusually rude behavior. A tear escaped her eye, which she quickly wiped away.

Spinning around, Keri shuffled toward her room. A closed door at the end of the hallway caught her eye, and she continued past her room, past four more rooms—two on either side—to the end of the hallway. She looked on with curiosity at the only door on the upper level with a deadbolt lock on it. For some reason she didn’t understand, her heart thumped as she reached her hand slowly toward the brass doorknob and grasped it. A tingling sensation prickled her fingers and inviting warmth crept through her fingertips, spreading through her hand and up her arm. Her heart quickened. What’s happening? She paused, counted to three, took a deep breath and turned her hand.

The door was locked.

CHAPTER 2

Keri woke with a start, her breathing quick and labored, and her skin clammy. She sat up, rubbed her aching neck, and cursed the dull, persistent headache. The neck problem was old news; she couldn’t remember a time it hadn’t pained her. The frequent headaches, however, were new. Over the past few years they’d been worsening, and lately, becoming more the norm in her life. The worst ones occurred after particularly troubling dreams, like the nightmare she’d just woken from.

The nightmares, as the headaches, had been occurring more often. So much so, that Keri had taken to keeping a second journal—a dream journal—to keep track of the strange dreams she’d been having. She grabbed the book from the nightstand next to her bed, flipped it open to the first blank page and began to write.

July 6, 2008,

This morning I woke from a dream that seemed so real, it pretty much scared the ever-living crap out of me. It was a new one, not like some of the other reoccurring ones. And it seemed even more real than the others. I was at a party, and I was very upset. Upset with a guy; upset with my life and myself. I felt desolate and was overcome with a feeling of desperateness. Everything was hazy and the noise around me was distorted. The