phoe•nix
a person or thing regarded as uniquely remarkable in some respect
or
symbolizing immortality, resurrection, and life after death
[ mini series - novella to THE MANDELA EFFECT & DEJA VU ]
au
lower case intended
ft. the corey's, river phoe...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
warning: violence, blood, mention of weapons
THURSDAY, JUNE 15th 2023
kennedy white's point of view
the key clicks into the lock and then i turn it to the right, unlocking the front door to james' beach house.
i push the door open, all the lights inside are off and the air conditioning is pumping at full capacity making a layer of goosebumps rise onto my skin as i step inside.
"are there cameras?" river whispers from behind me. "this place looks like it'd have cameras."
his footsteps, jason's, and winona's clunk against the hardwood floor as they follow me into the foyer.
"honestly," my voice breaks the silence of the home i haven't been in in so long. "i don't know, but at this point, who cares. okay, let's split up. i'll take the master bedroom and office, jason check the bathrooms, winona and river, you take the kitchen and living room."
the plan is to look for any signs of cheating to back up winona's spotting of james with another woman who was not me—receipts, articles of clothing, women's shower products, condoms, anything.
the plan in my head however, has been slightly skewed. for the past few days, all i've been thinking about is the ping received from nevada. i try to push the wandering thoughts down, but they keep creeping back up.
luca informed me that the ping came from a place called sandy valley, nevada—about four and a half hours north of us.
he and the rest of our team are going there early tomorrow morning to check it out and see if anything's there.
anything, meaning corey.
i walk down the hallway to the master bedroom with jason behind me. everything here is exactly the same as i last saw it a year ago. there are no new decorations and all the furniture is the same, in the same spot.
as jason heads into the bathroom, i kneel beside the bed, pulling open james' nightstand. there's nothing in there besides sheet music, hand lotion, and one of his watches.
i check under the bed—nothing.
in the nightstand that used to be mine, nothing as well, it's empty.
"jason?"
"bathroom's clear." he flicks off the light, heading out. "i'll check the one in the hall."
"i'll be in the office." i tell him before heading to the room next to this one.
i keep the light off in here, worried that a neighbor could see and think someone broke in—even though we did do exactly that.
on the dark, almost black, mahogany wood desk centered in the middle of the room sits james' checkbook. i take it into my hands, flipping through the pages to see entries dated up until 5 days ago.
