✓ THE SHIFTER, marvel

epilogue

epilogue

Torrance Avery smiled at the man across from her. 

He held up his cards, looking them over before pushing more chips onto the table. He was proud of himself, she knew that. But, she knew what was in his hands, how he was only bluffing to scare her. 

Three of hearts, five of spades.

She had skillfully shaken his hand, like the rest of the players at the table, once she had arrived. It was almost too easy from that moment on, having all of their mumbled voices betting and yelling against her open mind. 

She knew exactly what cards everyone had and now, with him and her being the only ones left, she could only grin as he echoed his cards like an anthem inside his big, crowded brain.

Three of hearts, five of spades. Three of hearts, five of spades. Three of hearts, five of spades.

Torrance pushed all of her chips forward. "All in."

The man frowned and she batted her eyes and gave him a nervous look that told him, perhaps she was the one bluffing. 

But, no such luck. She had a full house and everyone who stood behind her knew it too.

The man pushed the rest of his chips in and her stomach churned with joy. He laid his cards on the table as she did hers and his mouth fell open. She reached forward with a grin, dragging her winnings into her corner and into her arms with eager acceptance.

She had been on a winning streak...for the past week.

After work, which was usually just her sitting at a desk filing paper work for her asshole of a boss for hours, she'd come here and earn more than her paycheck would ever get her.

She returned home, to the little apartment over the bar, which she had taken the liberty of sprucing up. Being practically a century old, she knew a few things about renovating and she knew with enough money, and god did she have enough, she could do anything she wanted.

So, she tore down the walls to the apartment next door and created a huge loft for herself. The owner of the apartment across from her had been owned by a man named Santiago, at least that's what Donnie, the bartender and owner of the bar, had told her. He even mentioned that they had been friends, although, when he told her, he looked scared. Like something was going to happen to him if he told her the truth.

It didn't bother her, not much. She was just sad she couldn't remember the deceased man who might've been her friend when she tore down and completed her apartment through his. 

Her floors were white tile, not longer splintering wood. 

They got so cold at night that they felt like ice against her bare feet, so of course she had to buy a Persian rug. She even had a new counter top installed, along with new faucets, doors, windows, and a bed. She got herself a huge queen with an actual headboard. She slept in silk sheets, a luxury she used to never have.

At least, she thinks she never had it.

She had woken up a year ago without a single clue of how she'd ended up down by the river. It was like she had washed up there and her head ached, which only meant she must've hit her head somewhere. 

She knew her name, knew where she lived, and even knew who her parents and sister were, but she didn't know anything else. Like she was a complete and open book, and she felt okay with that.