2. VERENA GRAVENHURST
TWO
VERENA GRAVENHURST
Rounding the corner of my apartment building, a cold ache burrows deep into my bones as icy droplets cascade from the midnight sky.
The air is frigid, and I clench my jaw to keep my teeth from chattering.
Of all nights to be in such a foul mood, Mother Nature has taken it upon herself to make my journey abundantly more dreadful, as the wind whips at my already struggling body.
Just a few more steps.
Trudging up the stairs of the apartment complex, I fidget with my keys, my fingers trembling, as I anxiously try to unlock the building door.
After multiple failed attempts and fumbling my keys twice, I unbolt the lock and scurry inside, shielding myself from the brutal elements.
Brushing off the excess rain, I check my mailbox and grab the stack of letters I’ve been avoiding for weeks now, before ascending the never-ending staircase to the tiny space I call home.
Crossing the threshold, I take a deep breath, purging the bar’s negativity and toxic masculinity from my body.
The safety of my apartment calms my nerves as I shut the door behind me, quieting the world beyond it.
I lock the deadbolt and rest my head against the back of my door, thankful to finally be home.
It’s over. I no longer have to put up with the groping hands of putrid men, no longer have to obey the monster who wouldn’t bat an eye to protect his staff against the evil he welcomes through his doors. I exhale, feeling my shoulders relax.
My apartment is quaint. To some, it may look like a hole in the wall.
Water stains and God-knows-what drip down the windowsills, and the wood along the trim of the walls is beginning to rot.
But to me, it’s the place that shields me from the horrors of this world.
My sanctuary. A place where I am untouchable. It’s mine, well, for the time being.
My bills are long overdue, and I’ve barely made enough money to nourish myself with a hearty meal for weeks now.
The Garnet Cavern was an insufferable place to work, but it was the only thing keeping this roof over my head, and without tonight’s pay, I’m completely fucked.
Dropping the pile of letters onto my dinette table, I grab a glass from the kitchen cabinet and fill it with the only beverage at hand—murky water from the tap.
In one swift gulp, I drink it down, grimacing as the bitter taste lingers on my tongue.
Better than nothing, I suppose.
Setting my glass in the sink, I contemplate what to do next. There’s no food in my refrigerator to cook a warm meal, and I’m in no mood to bathe without having any hot water to soothe the ghostly chill that still gnaws at me.
Feeling mentally and physically exhausted, I slouch down onto the wooden dining chair, resting my head in my hands, allowing myself a moment to recover from the day’s events. I glance over to the mountain of mail across the table and decide that it’s time I face my responsibilities.
Reluctantly picking up the stack, I sift through the miscellaneous letters and final notices from those to whom I am indebted. My body stills when I come across a white envelope from my landlord, with large red letters scrawled across the top.
URGENT.
My heart picks up pace as I tear it open, and I dread the words that I know I’m about to see at the top of the page.
NOTICE OF EVICTION.
I study the letter, reading it over and over again.
The date to vacate the premises a mere twenty-two hours from now.
“No,” I mutter in disbelief, flipping it over to see if there’s any information I missed, anything else I could possibly do to prevent this from happening.
There isn’t. I’ll lose my apartment by tomorrow if I don’t come up with the money by the end of the night.
What am I going to do? I have nowhere else to go.
A storm of thoughts swarms my mind as I struggle to accept the fate that has been laid before me.
I flitter through a string of emotions from the never-ending cloud of doom that has plagued me my entire life.
Sadness, pity, and anger course through me in a matter of seconds as I think about the hand I’ve been dealt and the challenges I have had to face alone for so long.
The death of my mother, the lifelong feeling of abandonment from a father I’ve never known, and the eternal hopelessness the world has dropped on my shoulders with every new obstacle thrown in my direction.
I’ve never had any semblance of consistency in my life.
A friend to lean on during hard times, a family to go home to when the going gets tough, and that realization blankets my heart with a sadness so deep it would take something short of a miracle to climb my way out.
I lash out, letting my rage get the best of me.
With a hard shove, I send the small table flying across the room, and the rest of the letters topple to the floor.
Sitting back down, I rake my knees tight against my chest, embracing myself, and let loose a sob that has been scratching at the surface of my heartache, clawing its way through my core, no longer able to stay buried within.
I don’t know how much time passes as I sit folded in on myself.
Minutes, hours, it all blurs together as a numbness floods my body.
When all the tears have expelled from my eyes, I gather myself and pad over to the sofa where I’ve rested my head on so many nights.
Pulling a blanket over shaking limbs, I curl up, my lids growing heavy, and let darkness pull me under, leaving my troubles and worries for the morning to come.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” I mutter to myself after placing a tarot card face up on the coffee table before me.
My legs are tucked beneath me, and on a huff, I lean back into the sofa, crossing my arms. I don’t know why I thought it was a good idea to do a reading today, when fate has already been playing games with me all week.
I glare at the reversed death card, and it stares back at me, taunting me like a bad omen.
It symbolizes the refusal of change, and I scoff when the next card I pull is The Lovers.
I smack it down onto the table and laugh.
If I know one thing for sure, it’s that a soul-crushing love is not something this universe would ever allow me.
With a sigh, I force myself upright and glance at the chaos I’ve wreaked around my living space.
Gathering loose strands of hair and tying them into a messy bun, I push myself up from the sofa.
After recentering the table and adjusting the chairs, I begin picking up the scattered papers and envelopes from the floor.
When I think I’ve gathered them all, a glint of purple catches my eye in the far corner of the room where my laundry is folded, waiting to be sorted into my dresser.
I saunter over and pluck the envelope off the top of the folded fabrics.
I don’t remember seeing this one last night.
It’s an elegant envelope in the deepest shade of violet, with stencilled flowers around the border.
In the centre rests a wax seal with what looks to be a crest belonging to someone important.
I pad my thumb over the seal, my curiosity piqued as I’ve never received a letter that looks like this before.
Situating myself on the sofa, I tear past the seal and pull out the letter addressed to the name only a select few know was given to me at birth: Verena Gravenhurst.
Miss Gravenhurst,
I regret to inform you of the passing of your grandfather, Ambrose Theodore Gravenhurst. We send our condolences in these times of such sorrow. Mr. Gravenhurst has left a detailed list of instructions to be given to you at your earliest convenience.
Among his passing, he has ensured your position of rightful heir to his exceptional legacy—Hollowcrest Academy the urge to push away any semblance of hope is overpowering my ability to think with a clear mind.
I don’t have any choice but to leave my safe haven.
My landlord made that quite clear, but I’ve learned to work for everything I own, and accepting a handout so willingly would be an injustice to my character.
After hours of inquiring about jobs listed in the newspaper and scarfing down nearly an entire box of cereal, I admit defeat.
Peering around the room that will no longer be my home in the next few hours, I let out a sigh, reaching for the letter that’s been staring me down all evening.
With nothing left to lose, I gather as many belongings and keepsakes that I’ve managed to hang onto over the years, and dial the number scribbled on the back of the letter to pick me up and bring me to Hollowcrest.