Eve stared accusingly at the stuffed bear on her nightstand. She rubbed her eyes, sitting up in the hospital cot. Even at four a.m., the smell of cheap coffee wafted into her room. Her door was only slightly ajar, propped open by the booted foot of a police officer. Eve didn't mind – she never wanted to be in complete darkness again.
Still, she couldn't blame the hallway light or the hospital sounds for her sleepless nights. That was uniquely the bear's fault. She frowned, facing the gift away from her. A week had passed since she'd officially regained consciousness. That made for an entire month since they'd been found. Dean and his crew were probably miles away by now. The media sure seemed to think so.
Eve had denied all requests for comment. She wasn't interested in a breakfast television feature any more than she wanted to moonlight on a grisly true crime podcast. She'd caught snatches of Valerie and Lucy giving interviews on the local news, always before Nurse Deliz swept in to change the channel. The nurse didn't have to intervene much, their kidnapping was already yesterday's news. Because really, the girls had only been missing for two months, and anyway they'd all lived – so was there anything more to discuss? Even having the culprits on the loose wasn't enough to hold the public's attention without any leads.
All but Sherriff Franklin seemed to be losing hope. Another dead end, she'd heard officers buzzing outside of her room, no leads, already crossed county borders, and then how long is the Sheriff going to leave us bench-warming? As far as they seemed concerned, the threat had been successfully run out of town. Megan had told them about the sedan's New York plates, and most seemed convinced that the crew had already disappeared into the city. Valerie's father could hardly extend his jurisdiction to the metropolitan crime hub.
Eve hoisted her legs over the side of the bed. The pads of her no-slip socks squeaked against the clean linoleum as she stood. She walked to the window, parting the thick curtains with one hand. Outside, the parking lot was blanketed in a thick layer of snow. Light flurries caught against the glowing streetlamps as they fell. It would've been pretty if Eve could think of anything other than her mother shivering at home.
She folded her arms across her chest. Her health hadn't fully returned – Nurse Deliz warned her that the muscle spams might persist for months even – but she was well enough. She could walk and talk, and that meant she could go back to work. As much as she wanted to stay in the hospital soaking up every luxury the state charity fund extended her way, she knew it was time. Reality could only be ignored for so long.
×××
Wind lashed against the tips of Eve's ears. She huffed into her palms, warming them against the crisp winter air. Fresh frost crunched under the tread of her new boots. Nurse Deliz had been disappointed when Eve requested her medical release forms, but even the nurse could sense that the world was moving on. Eve suspected Deliz was the one responsible for her new boots. The shoes didn't match the threadbare, musty quality of the other donated clothing that the hospital had provided, and Eve certainly hadn't missed the way Deliz had smiled when she put them on.
Sunny Acres was well into hibernation. Rows of shuttered windows and padlocked doors stared back at Eve as she shuffled home. There was no sign of tourists now . Still, she felt her heart soar. Home. She was finally home. There would be no more poking by doctors or prodding from police officers. Life could finally return to normal.
"Mom!" She couldn't resist from yelling as she hurtled up the rickety steps of her trailer. "Mom, it's me! It's Eve!" Her knuckles rapped excitedly against the door.
She listened to the familiar clatter of her mother climbing out of bed. Ear pressed against the door; the warmth of familiarity was quickly dashed by the sound of the lock turning. A sudden panic clawed up Eve's throat. She felt like she was back under the stairway, sick with fear over Winston's return. Does he have the knife with him? Will he kill me this time? Dread turned her stomach as the door creaked open.
Not Winston.
Her mother released a small sound of surprise. She pulled the door open, staring at Eve with pale blue eyes. Not black. Not Winston.
The residual terror was impossible to shake.
"Eve?" Her mother asked with disbelief. "Are you okay?" She stepped back from the door, "what's that?" she pointed at the plastic pharmacy bag hooked around Eve's elbow.
"It's, uh, medicine." Eve shook her head, grounding herself back in reality. She'd imagined this meeting several times during the long walk home. Her mother would answer the door and Eve would run into her arms. They would hug for a long time, neither ready to let the other go. Then they'd sit down on the narrow sofa bench and her mother would fill her in on everything she'd missed. There would be drunk stories and teachable moments, just as there always was, and then they'd sleep snuggly in their bunks. Safe. Warm enough from the alcohol. The fantasy evaporated as her mother slammed the door behind her, clicking the lock back into place.
Eve's shoulders were tense, her legs stiff as she stood awkwardly in the entrance to her own home. It was nearly colder inside than it had been outside. Her mother stood quizzically before her, a brown coat hanging off her shoulders like a cape. She looked so small. Had she always been this fragile? The trailer keys dangled from a lanyard around her neck. The thought of being locked in the trailer was suddenly strangling.
"What's wrong?" her mother eyed her up and down.
"I'm fine." Eve tried to convince herself, "everything is fine." She was finally home – everything should've been perfect. Why wasn't it? Her fingers reached out, quickly unlocking the front door once more.
Her mother frowned, "where have you been?"
"I-" Eve choked up on the explanation. I was kidnapped. I've been in the hospital for weeks. She didn't want to talk about it. Her days of being a victim were in the past – nobody needed to know the details.
"Are those pills? Are you using?" She eyed the bag with distrust.
"What? No."
Her mother sighed with relief. "Well come on in then," she shuffled over to the fridge. "Tell me what happened." She pulled a dented beer can from the sparse shelves.
"I... ran away. I'm sorry."
Her mother eyed the hospital scrubs. "Is that all?"
Eve nodded.
"Hmmm," her mother handed her the beer, moving on to the cabinets where she stored the hard liquor. "Was it because of that Miller boy? I always knew there was something rotten about him, just like his filthy father, that one."
"No, no," Eve shook her head. "It didn't have anything to do with Toby." She rolled the can between her fingers. "Can we not talk about it?"
Her mother scowled but said nothing.
"It's...complicated." Shame heated Eve's cheeks. She wanted to pretend that nothing had ever happened. It was clear her mother hadn't seen the news. Everything could go back to normal. Nobody would have cause to treat her any differently.
"Ah, young love," Her mother replied sourly. She took a swig directly from an old vodka bottle. "Well it's better you learned it now: men don't stick around. They'll suck you dry, promise you all sorts, stick you with a baby, and then" she waved her hands in the air, "they get on the next bus out of town."
Eve wrung the plastic bag between her hands. The stuffed bear seemed infinitely heavier now that she'd carried it home. Nurse Deliz would've been too suspicious if she'd left it at the hospital. Worse, she might have tried to return it in-person. Still, Eve was plagued by questions. Why hadn't Dean got on the next bus out of town?
"Look," her mother continued. "You're, what, twenty-something now?"
Eighteen, Eve bit her lip. There was no use in correcting her.
"Well just know that as long as you're under my roof," her mother waggled one thin finger, "you better be paying your share."
Eve nodded resolutely. "I'll call the gas station in the morning. They might be willing to take me back." If not, she'd try the grocery store, or the post office, or any number of convenience stores littered around town.
"Right then," her mother clinked the bottle of vodka against the can in Eve's hand, "to your return."
Eve forced herself to smile. It was exactly what she had wanted, and yet the moment felt empty somehow. She took a sip of her beer, hoping the alcohol would make her feel whole again.
It didn't.
