Prey Drive by Jen Stevens
Chapter 1
the lamb - present
for you to stay in the apartment,” my sister, Halen, reminds me, peeking her nose through the thick curtains covering the sliding glass doors to gaze out at the private, misty lake.
One look at her wife standing beside her tells me they’ve already discussed having me extend my stay in their finished basement and didn’t land on an agreement.
“I'll be fine,” I assure through an uncomfortable laugh.
It’s not that me and Kennedy don't get along. In fact, it's the opposite. Ever since my… accident, my sister has been helicoptering my every step. Kennedy knows I need this. I need my freedom back, whether Halen thinks she can trust me with it or not.
Halen steps away from the view and stands beside Kennedy, subtly nudging her in the side in a silent urge to step in. I still catch it, though, and my stomach turns in response, the way it always does when I see that look of concern cross her face. She shouldn’t be worrying about me like this. No one should. But spending three months in a rehabilitation facility for attempted suicide makes people think they need to take ownership of your well-being.
Even if it was all built on a misunderstanding.
“It is really creepy out here,” Kennedy agrees, her nose scrunching as she looks around at the backyard.
It's not creepy. It’s just quiet. Isolated. And very different from their townhouse in the small city we've always lived in.
I love it. The view is beautiful, and the privacy is exactly what I've been craving after spending six months post-rehab, holed up with Halen and Kennedy, and the past seven years with my ex-boyfriend or various roommates as I struggled to get on my feet and finish community college. And the rent is an amazing deal.
“It's secluded,” I amend, walking over to the door that Halen just left to push the drapes open and let some sunlight into the large dining room.
Specks of dust puff out of the luxurious fabric and float all around us, settling into the small layer that seems to coat everything else in the home.
The surrounding trees create a canopy over the house that blocks most of the natural light, but it also keeps it cool in this blazing summer heat. Besides, there’s a private beach at the end of the small strip of grass that's been cleared from the yard to create a hangout area. If I want sun, all I have to do is walk twenty feet out my new back door.
“I'm just afraid you'll be lonely,” Halen whines, pivoting her approach. She swipes her finger along the buffet beside her and gapes at the amount of dust that she picked up before quickly dragging her hand across her jeans to wipe it off.
“The owners said they haven't been able to get out here in some time. It'll just take a Swiffer and a vacuum to be good as new,” I defend, irritated that she’s being so nit-picky at this point. The decision has already been made. “And it's not like I'm moving out of the country. You'll only be twenty-five minutes away. Close enough to reach me in case of an emergency.”
Twenty-five minutes can feel like a lifetime when it comes to emergencies, and Halen knows that just as well as I do. Still, she should be grateful, that after all the suffocating she’s done in the past few months, I’m not moving out of the state. Or even the country, like I said.
The house is owned by some ridiculously rich couple from New York. He runs an investment company and works far too many hours, according to his wife. They said they haven't been able to get out here in a couple of years and figured it was time to see the place get put to good use.
That's it. No weird ghost stories, no dead bodies buried in the backyard. No dangerous foundation issues. Just a busy couple.
It’s perfect for me. A fully furnished home, three times the size of any apartment in the city, and half the rent. I have a private beach on a small, crystal-clear inland lake, and don't have to deal with the constant hustle that overwhelms me in the city. With all utilities included, all I have to do is pay the deposit, pack a bag, and swipe a damp rag over all the neglected, custom-built furniture. It would have been stupid to pass up.
“I'm glad you're finally getting back on your feet,” Kennedy says a little more brightly. She’s trying to ease the tension radiating off my sister, though she should know by now that’s an impossible feat.
As best-friends-turned-lovers, Halen and Kennedy are the perfect balance of yin and yang. They know each other on a level far beyond anything in this physical realm and they play to each other’s strengths perfectly. They’re lucky as hell to have found each other. But that kind of connection doesn’t come without qualms. They usually have two very different perspectives on things—namely me.
“There could be a serial killer hiding out in those woods, and you'd have no idea. Look at how big this window is! Anyone could be watching you from out there.”
Halen scurries over from the dining room to the family room, holding her arms out to show the floor-to-ceiling wall of windows that overlooks the lake and surrounding trees. I admit, it’s a little intimidating to think about being fully exposed like that, but the lake is private and it’ll be off-season for tourists in no time. No one will even be in any of the neighboring homes in a few months.
But Halen is justified in her fears about leaving me alone. I'd be the same way with her if I'd been given the same story she was.
Still, I tell her, “I'll get some curtains.”
“You're not going to back down, are you?” Her tone is dejected, her shoulders slumped when she turns her attention back toward me.
Shaking my head, I offer a small smile. “I need to do this, Hales. It's time.”
She can claim to fear serial killers and dust and loneliness all she wants, but what she's truly afraid of is losing me to the darkness that she thinks hangs above my head. The demons she's convinced whisper temptations into my ears.
They don't.
No matter how many times I scream at her that I don't want to die, she doesn't listen. No one does. Because of that one night that was completely out of my control. The one night that destroyed the life I loved so much and led to three months in real hell, I've been labeled the girl who doesn’t want to live. I haven’t told anyone the truth to protect my attackers—the people who have stolen all my credibility—but this is the first step to gaining my confidence back and reclaiming my life.
One day, she'll hear my words and find the truth hiding between them.