Prey Drive by Jen Stevens
Epilogue
the lamb - 2 months later
with us for a while,” my sister suggests for what feels like the millionth time as she and Kennedy walk through my new home. “At least until you can afford something in town.”
By some strange twist of fate, I managed to find a furnished, three-bedroom house, situated perfectly on a private lake with all utilities included. It's a deal I couldn't possibly pass up. Halen and Kennedy have been letting me stay with them since I got out of Sunnybrook a couple of weeks ago, but I knew that wasn't a sustainable living arrangement.
Regardless of how many times I tell her, or how many doctors sign off on my psych evaluations, or that fact that I was released from the facility early after I explained what Gabe did and they determined that I'm not a threat to my own well-being, Halen refuses to truly believe that I didn't try to kill myself.
I can't really blame her. Gabe planned that night out well in advance, slipping me low doses of various drugs every day to build them up in my system so that when I inevitably landed in the hospital, my blood panel would look like I truly had a problem. Halen struggles to separate me from my mother now, her brain convinced we share the same addictive personality.
I don't remember anything that happened that night after I stepped into the shower. Not the ambulance ride, or the emergency room, or the first two days they kept me hooked up to machines to ensure my organs wouldn't fail on me.
It's just lost time I'll never get back.
But I can't move on from this nightmare if I'm in an environment like Halen's, where I feel like I have to prove myself at every turn. So I started looking at places to live right away. I never expected to find such a perfect deal this quickly, especially when I've hardly begun working my new job at Old Soul Cafe. But I couldn't pass it up.
Recently bought by a property management company based in New York City, the home was once a vacation spot for some rich family who can't make it out here anymore. It works out perfectly for me, since my asshole ex-boyfriend is still holding all my worldly possessions hostage because I refuse to speak to him after what he and my mother did in a psychotic effort to try to control my every move. Hopefully, we’ll be assigned a court date soon, and I can prove to a judge what an insufferable, abusive asshole he is. Besides, everything in here is worth at least ten times what I have, so it's a win-win.
“I've already signed the lease, Hales,” I remind her patiently, resisting the urge to throw her out when she runs her finger along the surface of my kitchen table and her face contorts into a look of disgust.
Swiping the dirt onto her jeans, she peers through the sliding glass doors and into the shady backyard.
“It's just so far from home,” she whines, looking back at Kennedy for backup. “We would hate for something to happen again and we wouldn't be close. Besides, it's really creepy out here.”
“It's not creepy,” I interrupt her before she can start spewing a bunch of nonsense about serial killers or something.
Halen sends an exasperated look to Kennedy, silently begging for her to step in, but her wife just shrugs it off.
“It is a little creepy,” she agrees, and Halen can't nod her head fast enough, latching onto that point for dear life.
With wide eyes, she points her finger toward the woods. “You have no idea what could be lurking out there. There could be a serial killer–”
“Okay, I think you guys have seen enough,” I cut in, this time with my voice a little higher. I grab each of them around their shoulders and usher them toward the front door. “I've got a bit of cleaning to do before we bring my stuff over this weekend, so unless you two want to grab a rag and get to work, you should head on out.”
Neither of them volunteers, just like I knew they wouldn't. With a rushed goodbye and a death-grip hug from my sister, I promise them I'll be back home in a couple of hours, then close the door and get to work.
It's really not as bad as Halen thinks. Everything is just coated in a small layer of dust, but once I get all of it cleared away, the home looks ten times as beautiful. I've been having odd bouts of deja vu all evening and can't seem to shake the feeling that I've been here before. Like this place truly is my real home. There have already been quite a few times I was looking for something and instinctively knew exactly where to find it. The familiarity only further convinces me that this was all meant to be.
I wish I could spend my first night here tonight, but I know the impulse decision would only send Halen further into a tizzy. Plus, I don't have any of my things, and I’ve got a shift to work tomorrow. Instead, I resign myself to waiting just a few more nights.
In a silent resignation, I put away all my cleaners into the linen closet, throw my new comforter onto my bed, and then turn to head out. I'm just about to flip the kitchen lights off, when a speck of purple catches my eye on the dining room table that I just cleared off. I huff out a breath, irritated with myself for not properly cleaning up my garbage, and stomp over to it.
But my steps slow as I realize it's not garbage, but a piece of fruit.
Not just any fruit, though.
It's a fig.