Page 44 of Traithorn

The deep aromas of the drink filter through my nostrils, bringing me back to the present and heating my already cold body. My fingers flex around the mug, savoring the warmth. There’s a kind of nostalgia in the scent as it fills the small café. Comforting and familiar. A balm to my broken soul.

Settling down in my usual spot by the fogged-up window, I set up my computer and enter the meeting. I’m still able to make a living by doing tarot card readings online. This spot is the perfect one. At the back of the café, there’s no one around me to sneak a peek at my screen, and it allows me to have an overview of the rest of the space, along with the street outside.

After every horrible thing I’ve endured, I’ve become more paranoid. Always needing full control of my surroundings, or it feels as if I will suffocate.

The town shuffles awake with people getting ready for work. A young boy swishes past on his bike, handing out the morning newspaper while not reallyhandingthem out. More like throwing them at people’s doorsteps. But no one cares.

There’s familiarity in his movements, and there’s a sense of comfort in the way everyone always expects him to do it. Theyknow to move away from him now.

A man with a dog walks by, and I smile as another woman comes up to greet the dog.

It’s peaceful here. Serene.

A sense of belonging, while still being an outcast. I enjoy people-watching, getting to know people before they’ve even met me. I’ve even grown to love this town. No one knows who I am or my haunted past. I think if they did, they wouldn’t be as welcoming.

That’s not to say I don’t miss Vexglade, because I do. It’s a deep-rooted longing aching in my soul, a calling wanting to take me home despite all the trauma I endured there. Even if horrible things happened between the borders of the morbid town, it’s still my home. Always will be, no matter where in the world I venture.

But I did what I had to do to survive, and that included leaving.

I even filed for a restraining order the moment I left, made sure they couldn’t reach me again. Ever. It wasn’t easy, and it still isn’t. But I survived. In Silver Creek, I’ve finally found myself. Started therapy. Become self-independent. Stronger. More self-assured.

And yet…there are still days when I miss them. With an ache tugging at my throat like the need to vomit. Nights when I wake up from nightmares where they’re no longer with me, only to wake up and realize that that’s my reality.

They were my second half before I sent them to prison, and there’s a part of my heart that will always belong to them. But they taught me how dangerous love can become.

How obsession can fuel someone into vengeance.

And I can’t give my heart to someone when I’m still trying to stitch together the broken pieces of it.

Now? I think I miss them more than ever. The thrill. Thechase. The feeling of being wanted so fiercely.

I don’t wish to go back in time. I did what I needed to do for my own survival. I needed to move on. But a part of me wants them back.

Some scars, you just have to learn to live with. No matter how much it hurts.

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THE MOMENT I ENTERmy apartment after my meeting with my clients, it’s already pitch dark outside. After helping out Janet with closing the café to occupy my thoughts from the reality that it’s exactly one year since I left them, I’m tired and ready to take a bath with a glass of wine in one hand and a movie playing in the background.

My keys jingle as I close the door behind me, breathing out a heavy sigh of relief.

It’s quickly replaced by an atmosphere of something being distant—off.

The faint scent of a feminine perfume, strawberry-like and sweet as honey, filters through the hallway and leaves a shiver wracking over me. That odor wasn’t there before I left earlier.

Swallowing the lump growing in my throat, I quietly lock the door behind me, gripping the keys tighter in my hands. If things come to it, they’ll have to be a makeshift weapon.

With tentative steps, I tiptoe my way through the corridor separating the living room from the kitchen. Everything is as normal, the black sofa—bought second-hand when I moved here—stands as neatly with the cushions as I left them. A coffee cup from yesterday stands on the glass table before the sofa. Glancing over at one of my cardigans hanging from the armrest, I’m about to brush it off and move on when I realize it’s been nudged.

Only a fraction of an inch, but it moved nonetheless.

Suspicion makes panic crawl from the roots of my soul, the gut feeling of something being even more wrong fills me. I venture deeper into the apartment, careful not to make a sound.

This apartment is larger than my last one, with its own hallway, a separate space for the living room, and a separate bedroom that’s on the furthest end of the apartment with a balcony.

When I left Vexglade a year ago, I only stopped to get my personal belongings, leaving everything else behind. I terminated the contract with the landlord and stayed at a hotel until I found an apartment I could rent in Silver Creek.

Nothing is amiss in the kitchen, but that scent of perfume is even stronger here. Lingering in every corner, on every furniture.

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