Addie Baxley ran away from her hometown when she was eighteen. Twelve years later, she came back. So has the terror. I had returned home to lay my mother to rest and settle her estate. To do this most efficiently, I devised a simple plan I would stick to. Get in. Get out. Sounds simple enough, but before leaving home, I was the prime suspect in the murder investigation of a girl at my high school. She was also my bully. The town believed it was a revenge killing. While I may have been cleared, that didn’t mean I wasn’t guilty. I’d been terrorized for ten years. It’s hard to forget and forgive. Standing on the front porch of the house where I grew up, I took a moment to prepare myself for what lay ahead. I drew a deep breath as I eyed the neighborhood and wondered if anyone would dare to repeat the past. By the time I caught sight of the shadowy figure standing by the hedge, saw the person run past my basement, or noticed the man watching my bedroom window, I had my answer. While my mother believed the terror ended the day I left home, I wasn’t foolish enough to buy into that. Nightmares don’t disappear. They simply wait for you to crawl back into bed.