The Tragedy of Eden's Gate

9 - A Tragic Accident & Other Lies

Given my mum is recovering from a night shift and the rain is quickly becoming torrential, I opt for taking the car instead of suffering through a twenty-minute walk down the winding lanes towards Eden's Gate. I send a quick message to mum, so she doesn't think that the car and I have both spontaneously disappeared into thin air, and promise to be back in time if she needs it to get to work.

I leave Sam with the assurance I'll find out what I can, alongside a warning that I can't make any promises that this will end well. I can't point my finger at his old friends — who, by now, are nearing their fifties — say 'I know what happened to Sam' and have the police arrest them all. I have no concrete evidence, and I'm not sure 'seeing dead people' will fly in court.

Still, I've got to try and find something. Because, if I were in Sam's shoes, I'd want someone to help me, too. I wouldn't want the world to think my death was an accident.

I drive out to Lindenbridge, with my phone calling out directions to Nathan's gym. My thoughts are ablaze, considering all the disastrous ways this confrontation could go.

It's a whole lot nicer than Eden's Gate, I have to admit; there's an aura of simple peace compared to the jarring, unwelcome, and frankly hostile atmosphere choking my new home like a dense fog. The people here look genuinely happy to be alive, which is always a bonus. If the townsfolk of Eden's Gate are dawdling their way through life, trudging on like soldiers marching to an inescapable doom, then the residents of Lindenbridge are skipping.

It's quite the breath of fresh air, and I'm not surprised that Nathan and Emily seem to have packed up their lives and moved here. A fresh start in a shiny new town, leaving all their ghosts behind.

Or, rather, one ghost in particular.

I park up, double-check online that the gym does indeed belong to Nathan (it does), and head inside. Hopefully the morning rush will have died down by now.

I can only hope. I don't want an audience if this goes badly.

The gym is all glass and concrete and encouraging posters of people climbing mountains, with glaring spotlights that pierce through my skull and a two-storey lobby looking in at a bunch of people working out on machines lined up specifically for studying from an outside perspective, as though the exercise doesn't count unless everyone has to watch them do it. The gym at my old home was a little more private, a little more inviting, and I definitely prefer it to this.

I recognise the woman behind the counter after a morning of hasty social media scouring. This is Emily Hayes— the goody-two-shoes of Sam's friendship circle. The oblivious competition for Nathan's attention.

Middle-aged and wearing her decades in laughter lines pinching her eyes and the corners of her lips, she tucks shoulder-length platinum blonde hair behind her ears and checks in a customer.

When he wanders off towards the changing rooms, and I step forward, she offers me a welcoming smile.

"How can I help you, doll?" she asks, typing away on her computer. "D'you have a membership card?"

This is going to be awkward.

I clear my throat and idly study the racks of water bottles. "Um... are you Emily Hayes? Formerly Jenkins?"

The clacking of her keyboard goes quiet. "Yes, I am."

I risk a glance and find her watching me cautiously. Her smile has fallen. "I'm from Eden's Gate—" That feels weird to admit— "and I'm doing a project on Solus Estate for college. According to people in town, you knew the boy that died there. They told me I could find you here. Can I ask you some questions? It won't take long, I promise."