"What's your name?"

There's no life in this house. There's no pictures on the walls, no colours, no flowers, nothing to show that there's someone living here.

There's no way anyone can know that there's someone living here.

"Vanessa Montgomery."

Well, it's not possible to stay entirely hidden. She can't shut herself in this house forever. And that's not asked of her either.

However, there is still no way that anyone can know who is really living here.

"And what is your occupation?"

She sighs as she runs a hand through her hair, clipped short in a bob, and looks down at her clothes. A simple black tank top and simple jeans. Everything about Vanessa Montgomery is simple.

"I used to work in communications, but when my daughter was born, I decided I needed a change, so I packed up and moved here and now I'm living from my savings."

Oh, how she wishes that were the truth. How she wishes she had packed up and left before it was too late.

How she wishes she hadn't become involved in this nightmare in the first place. How she wishes she had tried a little harder, worked a little harder, dreamed a little harder. How she wishes she hadn't given up and instead settled for money and a charming smile.

If only she had known what that was hidden beneath that smile.

Sighing, she stands up from the chair she's sitting in and walks over the cradle, watching her sleeping daughter and softly ghosting her finger along the infant's face.

"What's her name?"

Sabrina.

"Iris."

The marshal seems to have noticed the bitterness in her voice, sighing behind her as she keeps staring at Sabrina.

Beautiful, innocent Sabrina, who doesn't even know what is going on. Beautiful, innocent Sabrina, who doesn't deserve to be in this mess.

"Mrs. Williams–"

She turns around to face the marshal, feeling her blood run cold at the mention of her husband's name.

"Ms. Evans is fine," she snaps, swallowing as the name rolls of her tongue. She hasn't used that name in so long. Once a source of pride, it now feels foreign, as if it doesn't belong to her.

As long as she's here, it will remain that way.

The marshal doesn't respond to her outburst. He just stands there, tall and stoic, his arms crossed over his chest as his gaze drills into her.

He doesn't appear affected by her, by any of this, in the slightest and she finds herself envying him. She has mastered this cold and detached façade, but truthfully, she's bursting at the seams, she's drowning, she's screaming for help.

"Ms. Evans," the marshal corrects himself, politely, before pausing as he studies her. "Sharpay."

Sharpay's eyes clench shut as she realizes this might be the last time in a really long time she'll hear her real name.

"I know how hard this is. I know what you've been through," he continues and Sharpay grimaces, refraining from scoffing.

He doesn't know half of what she's been through. And even if he did, how could he possibly know how much the fear and the loneliness are clawing away at her?

However, as emotionless as he appears, she can see in his eyes that it's not the same lack of emotion that she's become accustomed to. There's no danger or darkness in his black eyes.

She swear she can see a hint of genuine sympathy instead.

"I promise that this is what is best for you and your daughter and that you'll both be safe here. You have my word."

She purses her lip in response as she ponders his words. Despite their mutual lack of emotional attachment, she knows he is all that she has right now.

He will be all she has for a very long time.

Therefore, she has to trust him. And she thinks she does. She knows a bad man when she sees one and she knows this man isn't one.

"Thank you, Marshal Anderson," she replies quietly and Anderson merely nods in response.

"I'll leave you alone now," he replies, gathering the paperwork that he has left on the coffee table and offering her another curt nod before making his way out of the room.

She flinches as she hears the front door shut.

She's alone now.

Alone. Alone. Alone.

Turning back to the cradle before her, she grimaces.

She doesn't believe Anderson. She can't shake the memories of the imminence of danger, she can't shake the feeling that she's not safe.

She can't shake the feeling of utter loneliness and the longing to be anywhere but here.

She can't help but feel that this is not what's best for her, although she's also not sure what would be better at this moment.

Yet, as she watches the most precious thing she possesses, she decides to push her own feelings aside.

Because this is what is best for Sabrina. And she'll always put Sabrina first.


She should be able to do this.

Once upon a time, in a distant past, she was an actress. Performing was her passion and her dreams of a career in theatre fuelled her will to live.

This is the greatest performance she would ever have to give. Possibly and quite probably, it is the greatest performance she would ever have the opportunity to give.

She should be able to step outside, to play the part, to live a life outside of these plain walls.

Yet she holes herself up in her new house for the first couple of days that she's here, afraid to leave the confines of the only place where she's safe.

Logically, she knows that, if she keeps enough caution, she will be safe, even outside of the house. Nobody knows she's here and anyone who will know she's here, won't know who she is. There's nothing to be afraid of.

However, there's also no real reason to leave the house. The marshal has made sure that the fridge is stocked and there is a stack of magazines and a pile of books to go through and there's more than enough unwatched content on Netflix. She has everything she could ever need.

Except life in this dull house is monotonous. Performing the same routine every day becomes tedious.

As much as she had wished for more normalcy before the night her life fell apart once and for all, she has never enjoyed the mundane. She has always thrived on the unexpected, hungered for a life of glamour and constant excitement.

While her previous life hadn't given her the excitement she had always imagined for herself either, at least it wasn't as boring as this life is.

But in here, she's safe. In here, nothing can happen. So, she stays. She keeps performing the routine and she ignores the feeling of the walls closing in on her.

When she finds the fridge empty by the fourth day – a Thursday, she believes –, she realizes it's impossible. She has to get out one way or another.

So, she places Sabrina in the stroller and hopes for the best as she leaves her new house for the very first time.


As her luck would have it, someone addresses her the minute she steps onto the pavement and closes the gate behind her.

"Hi."

A woman is staring at her. She's in her mid-40s, Sharpay guesses, ginger curls framing her face. Her fashion sense is terrible, Sharpay thinks as she takes in the woman's orange and ill-fitting dress, and if she wasn't supposed to be playing a part, she probably would have made a snide comment.

But Vanessa Montgomery doesn't do that.

"Hi," Sharpay replies, offering the woman the nicest smile she can muster, before shooting a wistful look at the dog that is sitting at her feet.

Sharpay misses having a dog. She misses Boi.

The woman narrows her eyes at her, studying her in return. Her eyes shift to the stroller for a moment, before she sticks out her hand. "Debbie Fisher."

"Vanessa Montgomery," Sharpay replies, shaking Debbie's hand and noticing how firm the older woman's grip is.

"You just moved in here?" Debbie asks and Sharpay narrows her eyes at her as she nods in response, noticing the hint of suspicion in Debbie's tone.

"I live on the corner of the street," Debbie continues, pointing behind her. "How are you liking it here so far?"

She hates it.

"It's nice," Sharpay replies shortly, flatly. As Debbie's eyebrows rise, she quickly adds, "I haven't seen a lot of the neighbourhood so far, though. I'm still trying to get used to the new house."

This answer seems to please Debbie, the apprehension suddenly disappearing as she smiles at her excitedly. "Well, if you want to get to know the neighbourhood, you've come to the right person. My husband is on the city council and I participate in and organize a lot of the activities around here. We're actually staging Hello, Dolly! at the community theatre soon. You should come see it! Maybe you could get to know some more people."

Watch a bunch of middle-aged amateurs butcher a musical is fun, Sharpay supposes. However, she's not here to make friends, especially not with suburban soccer moms like Debbie. At least, Debbie seems like the type to be a soccer mom.

A ding sounds from Debbie's phone. Taking it from her pocket, she frowns. "I have to go. I have to pick up my son from soccer practice."

Sharpay contains the smirk that threatens to form. Bingo.

Pulling the dog with her, Debbie shoots Sharpay another fake smile as she walks away. "Let me know if you'll come or if you're interested in anything else! You know where I live!"

Sharpay waves after her, before sighing as she's sure Debbie is out of sight and earshot.

That's the first of many performances as Vanessa done.


At the grocery store, she tries to stay hidden as much as she can. Thankfully, there are not a lot of people around. There's only two women talking by the bread section, their backs turned to her.

Something about one of the women seems familiar to Sharpay, but she can't place it. She chalks it up to paranoia caused by the situation she's found herself in.

She manages to stay hidden and when she arrives home without any other neighbours trying to speak to her, she breathes a sigh of relief.

That wasn't as bad as it seemed.

She still prefers to remain safe inside, though.


The next day, the urge to go out again strikes again. Only, she has no idea how to go out without purpose and stay hidden.

She does remember the diner she walked past on her way to the grocery store. She looks at the clock. 2.11 pm. With a bit of luck, there might not be many patrons at this hour.

As she walks into the diner, she feels relieved as she realizes she was right. There's only two people – the bartender, an older man who probably owns the diner – his nametag matches the name of the diner –, and a middle-aged man nursing a beer.

The middle-aged man ignores her, fortunately, but she realizes as she locks eyes with the bartender, Todd, that it might not have been a good idea to hide in an empty diner.

"Are you new here? I've never seen you before," Todd says as he takes her order and Sharpay nods.

"I just moved here."

"Where from?" he asks as he sets a cup before her and pours coffee into it.

"Rhode Island," she replies. She doesn't think that is part of Vanessa's backstory, and it is actually Sharpay's truth, but she doubts that anyone would trace her to a place she hasn't been to since she moved to Albuquerque at the age of twelve.

"That's far away," Todd remarks and Sharpay shrugs, before launching into the spiel she's rehearsed so many times over the past few days, furrowing her eyebrows as Todd chuckles when she tells him she wants a new start.

"This is not really a place people come to when they want a new start," he explains. "Well, at least, it's not a place I would think of."

It's not a place she would think of either.

"Well, California seemed like a nice place to start over."

She can think of a few people who have started over here. She grimaces as she wonders how they are faring. They're probably happy. They always seem to be at their happiest when she's at her most miserable.

Life is unfair like that.

"California in general or Los Angeles or San Francisco, sure," Todd says with a casual shrug. "But this place? Not really. Don't get me wrong, I've lived my entire life and I love it for what it is, but this place is boring."

He sighs wistfully. "You know where I've always wanted to live? New York. That place seems so glamourous and exciting."

It is, Sharpay thinks. She misses it, the bustle and life of the big city.

"Maybe you could still go," she says, taking a sip of her coffee, and Todd shakes his head as he grabs a towel and starts cleaning the counter.

"I have a diner to run," he replies, before turning to her with a smile. "But I bet someone like you could."

She hopes that someday, she'll get to go back.

"So, how old is your baby?" Todd asks, changing the subject and Sharpay smiles at him, before turning to look at Sabrina, who has just woken up for a nap and is cooing at her mother.

"Four months."

"Nice," Todd remarks, smiling at the child. "My grandson just turned six last month. He's grown up so fast. I miss when he was this small. Don't take it for granted."

"I won't," Sharpay says as she takes Sabrina into her lap and kisses the top of her head as Sabrina tries to grab the cup of coffee.

A lump rises in her throat as she realizes how true that is. If there's anything she's learned from her recent experiences, it's never to take anything for granted. Especially not her precious baby girl.

"I'm Vanessa," Sharpay states as she reaches out a hand to Todd, who shakes it. "And this is… Iris."

She mentally chastises herself for her hesitation in introducing Sabrina by her new name, but Todd doesn't seem to have noticed, and if he has, he doesn't mention it.

"Todd."

"I know," Sharpay says, smirking as she points at this nametag. Todd rolls his eyes good-naturedly, before shooting her another friendly smile.

"Welcome to the neighbourhood."


When Sharpay returns home, she doesn't feel so miserable anymore. Todd is nice. Todd is her friend.

It doesn't matter that Todd is really Vanessa's friend and not hers. It's good to know that there are nice, good-hearted people here and that she doesn't need to be constantly on her guard when she's out and about.

And it's nice to know that she can come back to her house and doesn't have to feel afraid of having to go out again.

As she's settled in her chair with a magazine, the doorbell suddenly rings and she flinches at the sound.

She knows there's nothing to worry about, that it's probably just a friendly neighbour coming to say hi, or a salesperson she can tell to leave, but the sound still instils a paralyzing fear in her.

The doorbell rings again, the sound echoing through the house and she sighs, deciding to get up and answer anyway.

With a slightly trembling hand and apprehension bubbling in her stomach, she slowly opens the door.

The sight before her makes her body go rigid.

"Hi, we're– Sharpay?"


A/N: DUN DUN DUN. Wonder who that could be... ;)

Also, yes, the choice for the name Vanessa was deliberate, thanks for noticing my lame joke.