6. Coffee Thief
six
Coffee Thief
Onyx: 2024
T he cottage is cold, reminding me I’m alone when I crawl from the safety of the warm bed the next morning. Last night, watching Nolan leave hit harder than I could’ve ever predicted. After the massacred reunion I was legally tricked into having with Mr. My-House-My-Rules, I was mentally drained.
I have no clue what I was thinking when I stormed out of there last night. Actually, no, that’s a lie. I thought I’d get to ride out this stupid requirement without seeing him for the next three months. It’s too bad he was already a step ahead, making me agree to his whacked-out dinner arrangement.
Staring at the bathroom mirror, holding my toothbrush halfway to my mouth. “Dumbass, now you’re gonna have to endure his face for twelve weeks. That’s fucking ninety days,” lecturing my reflection, hating every syllable of truth I’m spitting at myself.
The last time I was here in the cottage was when Mom and I stayed while she was taking care of the funeral arrangements for her parent’s sudden death.
Nerves mixed with chills vibrate over my skin as I struggle to get ready for a day I wished to never come.
I don’t want to see him , especially after our little meet and greet last night. I’ve told the universe repeatedly for years that I never wanted to see his lying face again.
Once I’ve finished getting ready and adjusted the thermostat, my heavy feet shuffle towards the kitchen in desperate search of caffeine. It’s the little things we take for granted that sneak up on us when our routines are messed with.
“Fuck,” I sigh loudly, leaning on the counter, face cradled in my hands.
Raising my head, running both hands through my hair, tired eyes gazing out the window overlooking the main house.
“Suck it up, bitch. Get in, take the coffee, and run. You don’t have to speak to anyone,” I whisper quietly, giving myself a pep talk for a mission I never imagined to be taking.
Last night sleep evaded me, turning my exhaustion into a hindrance along with my tossing and turning, which is why I’m crankier than usual this morning. I’ll be honest, I’m not a mornings-are-fun type of girl. Especially after coming to the conclusion that I have nothing in this cottage.
The frosty air clings to me as I stroll up the path to the main house. Tiny clouds appear as air leaves me, floating past my face. My spine stiffens, causing me to stumble. A sensation constricts my chest, faltering my breaths. My eyes survey the gloomily lit grounds, searching for whatever has shifted the atmosphere around me. But as usual, there’s nothing there.
I rush up the few steps, relieved to find the door unlocked, and hold my breath as I slip into the entrance. The heat starts to defrost me instantly while I listen for anything disrupting the silence. Quietly tip-toeing down the hall to the kitchen, prepared to pull out some serious hide-and-seek moves if I have to.
My hand flies to cover my mouth, gasping, “Who are you?” I question breathlessly, not expecting to find a woman standing at the sink.
She turns on the water to wash a teacup, not bothering to turn around. “Lisa,” she answers shortly.
I stand, eye-balling her head to toe. I’ve not seen her face, but I’m guessing she’s on the younger side. Maybe late twenties, early thirties. She’s a natural redhead with a decent build.
Shit, what am I thinking? I’m as average as they come and, thankfully, blessed with some decent curves.
My eyes leave her, scanning the room. “Where’s the coffee?” I blurt, unable to hide the desperation clinging to my words.
Placing the teacup in the cabinet. “Hendrix drinks tea,” she answers smugly.
Rolling my eyes hard enough for them to sting. “Of course he does,” I mock, charging to the fridge, hoping to find a bottle of water.
She turns around, watching me with squinty eyes. “Any food allergies?” she asks, sneering at me in disgust.
Like I’d tell her, she’d probably try to kill me.
Snatching a water, slamming the door hard enough things rattle inside. “Nope. Only to bitches and assholes,” I answer, biting my lip to hold in the giggles from her shocked face. “Tootles,” I snicker, wiggling my fingers and spinning on my heel.
I hear her following me close enough I can almost feel her breathing.
Has she heard of personal space?
What the hell am I driving into?
The narrow road is hidden, surrounded by a patch of woods, twisting and turning up a random hill on the outskirts of town. The whole thing has Wrong Turn vibes screaming at me to turn the hell around while I still can.
“For shit’s sake,” I sigh, filling the silent cab of the Jeep, staring at the huge wooden gate blocking the janky road.
I cautiously pull up to the white speaker box, wondering what will happen when I press the red button.
“Name?” a deep voice asks, startling the shit out of me before I’ve even had time to move my hand.
“Onyx Sterling,” I answer hesitantly.
“I’ve sent your code,” the voice in the box informs me at the same time I hear my phone vibrate.
How the hell did they get my number?
My fingers shake as I enter the code before I’m forced to sit impatiently waiting for the gate to slide open. At least they could make sure their weird obstacles move at a proper speed.
Who thought it was smart to lock a bunch of kids into a secluded space?
It isn’t long until the building comes into sight. Even from this distance, I can tell the brick-four-story-square-structure is old and aged by the climate, reminding me of an abandoned place you’d find in the sketchier parts of a city.
“Welcome to The Edge of Hell,” I mock, seeing the white wooden sign reading — The Edge Academy — as I pass.
Once I’m inside the monstrosity, nervous chills vibrate over my skin while I stand examining the large map framed on the wall. I take a moment, scanning the interior, before returning my attention to the map.
Let’s take a second to talk about this monstrosity… Or, should I say, the sterile maze of arrows and signs pointing to stairways and halls that all look the exact same.
Dingy ass-stab-at-your-cornea white!
Everything’s pristinely polished to give the illusion of being elite. When really, it’s an overpriced school with academy slapped behind the name. Honestly, I’ve never seen a place more uninviting. I mean, even hospitals splurge on some boring ass blue or dirty cream paint. The lighting alone wreaks havoc on your skin. Not to mention, the entire vibe of the place shreds your mood within seconds. It’s no wonder everyone’s walking around like tripped-out zombies. Their souls are being cooked by the fake UV burning their skin.
I gotta get a sunscreen routine, ASAP!
After concluding that I’ve completely lost myself in my rant, I stop in the middle of the hall, reading the painted label on the glass: Office .
The door barely clicks behind me when someone says my name, “Onyx.” An older woman stands in a doorway to my left, motioning me into her office.
Cautiously, I make my way towards her, slipping inside. She shuts the door, strolling to the large wooden desk, pointing at a chair in front of it for me to sit. I lower myself into the seat, waiting for her to speak.
“Welcome to Edge Academy,” she finally says calmly, studying me like a caged animal that’s been released into the wild.
I really wish I had some coffee.
“Thanks,” I stiffly answer.
She laces her fingers, resting her elbows on the desk. “I’m Mrs. Jones, the counselor here at Edge. We were sorry to hear about your loss. I’m sure it’s been a struggle for you.” She smiles sweetly, gazing at me questioningly.
The lady reminds me of Betty White. Wonder if she’ll make me chant in the woods?
“I’m good,” I answer shortly, never the one to talk about my feelings.
I was raised to hide my emotions because no one needs to see your weaknesses. It’s pointless to spill your problems on strangers when they have their own problems to deal with. Feelings and emotions are meant to be private. Opinions are for sharing. I sit, recalling Mom’s numerous lectures.
She scowls at my answer, scratching her head. “How are you adjusting to your new location?” she pries, shifting to a more direct tactic.
Scooting forward to the edge of the seat. “I’ve not found any hidden bodies, if that’s what you’re asking,” I answer softly as though I’m sharing a great secret. Wanting to laugh when her eyes grow wide.
She quickly corrects her shocked expression. “I’m here to listen. This is a safe space for sharing,” she explains slowly, driving home every word.
Tilting my head, humoring her for a second, pretending to think over her declaration. When really all I want to do is show her the bird and escape this nest.
“Here’s the problem. I didn’t think about packing coffee. Annnd , why would anyone pick tea over coffee ? I don’t know. But, obviously, he does . And I really just want some coffee. But I’m stuck here, talking to you. See the issue?” I ask, staring daggers at her squinting eyes.
She shoves from her desk, stands abruptly, and slides a piece of paper across to me. “Here’s your schedule. Let me know if you have any serious issues,” she hisses politely, ushering me to the door when I stand.