18 Fletcher Strawberries—Caamp #2
The pills are bitter as ash on my tongue. Swallowed dry, they slip down my gullet. I press out a bigger handful from the blister packets and turn them over in my palm, ignoring the way my heart rate kicks up.
No room for panic. I’ve started now.
Can’t stop. Not until it’s done.
Hand halfway to my mouth, I stop dead at the sound of a twig cracking behind me. Military training kicks in. I’m on my feet with fists raised faster than rationality can catch up. Only it isn’t an assailant creeping up on me.
“Hi, Fletch.” Eden spreads her hands, raised in surrender.
Seeing her causes me to halt dead.
“Look, I just want to talk.”
The pills fall from my grasp, her eyes tracking the movement. I don’t know how long she’s been watching me. Long enough. If I were in the right mindset, I would’ve noticed, only I didn’t expect to be followed.
“I saw you leaving the house,” she explains.
I grimace, cursing my stupidity.
“You seemed pretty shaken up, so I decided to follow you. Though I wasn’t expecting to find this.”
Keeping her hands raised so as not to startle me, I recognise her calming tactics. It doesn’t stop me from bristling when she attempts to step closer, then halts, realising her mistake.
“How many did you take?” Her gaze moves to the bottles on the ground.
I shake my head, nonplussed.
“It can’t have been many. How you planned to swallow all those without any water, I’m not sure. Didn’t seem like you were planning that far ahead.”
Hah. Bloody hilarious.
“Can we please talk about this?”
Another headshake. Nope.
“It’s just us,” she attempts to reassure. “No one else is coming.”
Yeah, still no. I’m not interested in talking this out.
“I thought we trusted each other.”
Anxiously bobbing on her feet, Eden scans over me. I don’t know if she’s searching for any signs I’m about to keel over or simply reassuring herself that she isn’t too late. Either way, it’s unwelcome. I don’t want her to see this.
“Please, Fletch. Just give me five minutes.” Eyes round, she begs me. “If after that you want to be left alone, I won’t stop you. I’ll walk away.”
My mouth falls open. I’m not sure whether to believe her.
“You have my word,” she promises. “I won’t get involved.”
Contemplating her offer, I snap my mouth closed.
“Please,” Eden begs.
When I reluctantly gesture for her to sit, her smile is weak at best. Both sitting on hard ground, we face the lake together, partially obscured by swaying tree branches. My skin feels hot and tight under her attention.
“Fletch, I want to tell you a story.”
Eden picks up one of the medicine boxes, scanning over the label. I find myself watching her in bemusement. She isn’t shouting or screaming at me. In many ways, she appears perfectly calm, despite finding me out here with clear intentions.
“It’s about a woman who lived a lie. She married young and woke up in a prison the world couldn’t see. The kind of prison that breaks a person, piece by piece.”
She places the box back down, pulling her knees up to her chest.
“You see, her husband was evil incarnate hidden behind a suave smile. His power and influence only enabled his abuse. It terrified her when he screamed in her face, dominating every aspect of her life. Her friends. Her diet. Her clothing. Her very existence revolved around him.”
Eyeing her, I cock a brow in confusion.
“So she took pills to mask the pain too.” Eden nods towards the boxes. “When that didn’t work, she sliced the soles of her feet with an old razor blade. It was the only place he wouldn’t look.”
Hearing her detached, monotone tenor causes deathly fingers to trail down my spine. I don’t like this story. Not one bit.
“Her husband thrived on control, you see. He spent years torturing her, breaking her down, and keeping her isolated until she was little more than a ghost.”
My breathing falters. Dread blooms. Now I’m clinging to every goddamn word, hoping this is fiction. But her rapidly paling face tells me I’m wrong.
“One day, this woman snooped where she wasn’t supposed to and found something no one was ever meant to see. But she wasn’t strong or brave. She didn’t have the courage to tell the world what she uncovered.”
Her voice cracks, full of anguish.
“So instead of fighting for justice . . . she fled into the night. Penniless and alone. She left her old life and that monster behind to find somewhere safe to hide.”
Head turning, Eden hits me with a teary smile.
“And she tried to forget the past.”
My fingers twitch with the urge to reach for her. I barely hold them back.
“Now I want to tell you a secret,” she whispers, staring straight through me. “This woman knew she had to stay hidden if she wanted to forget. So she chose a new name, a new story. She built a new life.”
No . . . it can’t be.
In the copse of immutable trees, all her secrets are laid bare. The shadows I’ve watched writhe in her hazel eyes for all this time. Hints of darkness I could never quite name but recognised and felt drawn to.
“She became Eden Coles.” Silvery streaks break free to trail down her cheeks. “And she found a home where she least expected it. But she never, ever planned to fall in love.”
Her revelation fires far louder than any explosive. An IED blasting apart my senses would hold less impact. I reel in silence, watching her wipe tears aside like they’ve betrayed her by existing.
She lied to us.
Disregarding the pills resting between us, I point a finger at her chest. It doesn’t take her long to understand my question. Eyes shuttering, Eden looks down at her tangled fingers.
“My real name is Everleigh,” she reveals barely above a whisper. “Everleigh Banks.”
My recoil induces whiplash.
Her name is Everleigh.