Fenrik’s Fate (Abandoned on Niflheim)
Chapter 1
CHAPTER 1
TRACY
T uesday night, all the girls decided to get all dressed up and head to the local bar. I’d worked at Coco’s for almost a month and was finally starting to feel comfortable in San Diego. I had no fear of Gabe finding me. I had a steady job and a cozy place to live, even if it was always a mess. I’d made a solid group of girlfriends at my hostess job. When I’d showed up at a motel with a black eye and fifty-two dollars to my name, Trish helped me find work. She wasn’t the warmest, but she saw a girl in need and stepped in. She helped me get the job at Coco’s. One night, as I returned to the motel, Trish offered me her old roommate’s room—she was moving in with her boyfriend. As prickly as Trish was, I didn’t hesitate.
That’s how I ended up in a worn-down bungalow right on the ocean on the outskirts of San Diego.
I’d had to borrow clubbing clothes from Stacy, since, having fled from Gabe when I saw my chance, I didn’t have time to pack much. And given my former life, I definitely didn’t have clubbing clothes. My parents raised me in a high-control cult on the outskirts of Boulder. If Gabe, technically still my husband, understood me at all, he’d know that I had not only fled our small town, but I had fled the state—on an Amtrak. Yet, he was dumb as a pile of rocks, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he were currently scandalizing the small community I grew up in by trying to find me in the neighboring towns. Now, over a thousand miles away, the past felt like a separate country. I was determined to leave it there. Here, with Trish and my girls, I felt safe for the first time in a long time.
I looked at myself in the mirror. I was in an electric pink dress far shorter than I would have picked out for myself and black kitten heels. I had to acknowledge I looked cute, even if it didn’t feel me. I’d never owned a dress that didn’t go to my ankles. This pink, slinky thing highlighted all of my assets, which was new to me. I felt hot and uncertain at the same time.
“It’s perfect,” Heather squealed, clapping her hands together.
Heather was twenty-one and a ball of energy. She was the ringleader of our little crew. Steph was the oldest and volunteered to stay sober even though we all lived within walking distance of the club. I put my ID, cash, and a tube of lipstick in a clutch I’d borrowed from Heather and was ready to go. The walk was short, and it was late August. The air was balmy and comforting. I could get used to summers in San Diego.
At the club, the bouncer carefully checked all of our IDs. I didn’t blame him. We all looked right on the edge of twenty-one. I had turned twenty-two in April. Only when I started making new friends did I learn getting married at twenty was not the norm.
We headed into the bar with the sounds of “Material Girl” blaring all around us. At least they had good music. We grabbed one of the tall circular tables near the dance floor while Heather got us three cheap wine coolers and a Diet Coke for Steph. The club was busy for a Tuesday, but it was ladies’ night. All our drinks were half off. This ensured that plenty of women and men showed up. But I wasn’t on the market. I was just there to have fun with my girls. I didn’t know when I’d be ready to date again, but it wasn’t tonight.
I took another sip of my drink and enjoyed the slight tipsy feeling I was starting to get. I was a complete lightweight, mainly due to having minimal experience drinking. Not only did Gabe disapprove of it, but our church also maligned alcohol. I always wondered what that meant since the Bible had stories of Jesus turning water into wine—but I was too afraid to ask. As that thought flitted across my mind, I took another big sip. Gabe wasn’t here. I was free. I could do whatever I wanted.
Three wine coolers later, and we were dancing our hearts out on the dance floor. While I hadn’t told any of the girls the sordid details of my past, they knew I’d fled from my ex and had no interest in being found. They were aggressively deflecting any male attention, and I appreciated it immensely. I was drunk but still coherent and having more fun than I’d had in almost a year.
But I needed to pee, so I grabbed Steph’s hand. “Come to the bathroom with me?” I asked.
“Sure,” she said, heading with me to the bathrooms at the back of the bar. “I’ll wait outside for you and make sure no one creepy goes in.”
I gave her a sloppy, drunk hug. “Thanks, Steph.”
I headed in and did my business in the dimly lit restroom and was finishing up when the lights went out. I was plunged into complete darkness. I screamed and heard shouts come from all around me as if the entire club had been plunged into a bad slasher film. I took a deep breath. There must be a power outage . I wiped and pulled my dress down, not bothering with flushing or washing my hands. I needed to find my friends. As much as I didn’t want to put my hands all over the bathroom walls, I needed to use them to help me find the door. I reached out in front of me for anything solid to help me get oriented. Finally, after taking a few blind steps, I found the wall and started walking toward what I hoped was the exit. The screaming had stopped, and it had gone eerily quiet.
Before I could get to the door, I heard it creak open. It was still pitch black.
“Steph?” I asked.
No response. I sensed there was someone in the bathroom and started to panic.
“Steph? Heather! STACY?!” I cried into the silence, but no one answered.
As I started to lose it completely, an icy hand with long fingers wrapped around my wrist. I tried to wrench back, but the hand was stronger, and I was pretty drunk. Whatever it was pulled me closer. I struggled and screamed and then felt something cold press against the side of my neck. The darkness closed in on me, and my mind went blank.