Chapter 1

Hell is not a place. Hell is a state of mind.

In Hell, it’s hard to breathe, as if a shroud is wrapped around your body so tightly your chest can’t expand. In Hell, everything is difficult. Simply getting out of bed or choosing clothes is a Herculean task.

In Hell, food has no taste, appetite is suppressed by pain.

In Hell, there are ghosts everywhere; Addison sitting at the kitchen island counter chatting away, Addison laughing, Addison at my side watching TV and eating ice cream out of the tub, Addison cuddling in bed, Addison loving me ... Addison everywhere.

In Hell, the world is pale, filtered through pain so colours are wan, sounds dull, life around you detached, apart, alien.

In Hell, there is no joy or laughter, no highs, just endless lows. In Hell, you’re an emotional cripple.

Hell is a state of mind and no one could help me. No one could save me. I was trapped by memories, the only memories I had - six months of Addison four years ago. I had no other memories to distract me.

In this Hell, I adapted. I’d learned to lie. I’d learned to fake social skills, pretend interest; I’d learned how to survive, not live. I worked out daily hoping the endorphins would assuage my soul. They didn’t - gone before I left the gym. I kept up appearances, maintained the same very short beard Addison had so liked.

I’d discovered McEwan’s, a gourmet food shop in Don Mills and, like now, I browsed for premade meals, not that interested, not that hungry. Food was fuel, nothing more.

Since her passing four years ago, I’d hired a house cleaning service to do that which I found impossible - to care. The house, garden, and pool were in fine shape, tended by others. Like a veneer, it showed the world I was fine. I wasn’t. I’d never be fine again.

A pleasant server at McEwan’s looked at me and smiled. “Can I get you anything?”

I pointed at the barbecued salmon. “That, and some rice, please.”

From behind me, a voice: “Mr. Roth?”

When I turned, I saw a tall, elegant woman, her dark mahogany hair brushed and glossy, thick and falling to her shoulder blades in waves. Underdressed in tight jeans, flat shoes, and a colourful silk blouse tucked in, she exuded class. I saw her eyes; stunning emerald green. She seemed familiar.

“Hello,” I said, wracking my brain. It’s not as if I had a lifetime of memories to search through.

She laughed, her smile stunning, and extended her fine-boned hand. “Kimber McBride. We met at your pool years ago. I was...” Her smile faded. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to ... Addison was one of my best friends in middle school.”

“Kimber? That Kimber? I remember you.” My mind did a quick calculation. She should be, what, eighteen or nineteen now? “How are you?”

Her smile returned. “I’m fine.” She looked me up and down. “You look like you’re doing well, too.”

“Looks can deceive.” From behind me, the counter server got my attention, passing me the precooked meal to take home.

Kimber moved closer and studied the gourmet foods displayed perfectly. “Would you like to get a coffee?” she asked.

Not really. Socializing was a chore for me. She smiled again, her intense green eyes quite captivating. “Sure,” I found myself saying.

We strolled towards Starbucks. Late spring weather was perfect, warm in the sun, cool in the shade.

“What are you doing now?” I asked. “Didn’t you model back then?”

She laughed lightly. “I still do, although less now.”

In Starbucks, we ordered. I paid. Once served, we found a small table. Kimber set her things down next to her, crossed one knee over the other, and leaned forward. Her eyes were remarkable; deep green, so sharp they glowed.

“I haven’t seen you around,” I observed.

She smiled. “I’ve just returned. I’m starting at the University of Toronto in the fall.”

“Returned from where?”

She sipped her coffee carefully, then set it down. “For the last four years I’ve been living in Europe and modeling. It’s tiring work, especially when I had to study at the same time. I missed Toronto.”

“So you’re, what? Studying and modeling?”

“That’s the plan.”

“Good for you. A career and education. I’m impressed.”

Kimber leaned back. She brazenly studied me - head to toe - taking all of me in. “You look fit and healthy, just like I remember.” She studied my eyes. “But, you’re not, are you?”

It was uncomfortable. I thought my carefully constructed mask was perfect.