Hellbound - 001/Henry Creel/Peter Ballard

023

Eve 

As I navigate myself through the house, exploring every room, nook and corner of my new safe haven I find myself thinking that it's beautiful. The dark browns and the light greens of the furniture and decoration speak for themselves, showing me that the past owner really cared about it. The decor is harmonic, everything working together to create an aesthetically pleasing home that was once lived in and cherished. 

The tips of my fingers brush against every surface as I take in every detail, memorizing and snapping pictures of this place in my head, leaving behind trails of brushed-away dust. I find myself wanting to store this moment in my brain, I find myself agonizing over the fact that if I lose this house one day I'll be devastated. 

And then, I find myself wondering what happened to the owners, and why they left their home. Were they chased away? Were they forced to leave on short notice? Did they lose their way back? Did they die with no relative to come and take care of their legacy? 

I'll take care of this beautiful home for you. 

I find myself promising to a stranger with an unknown story in my head, thanking them for this blessing in disguise. 

As soon as I am done with the first floor I head up the staircase, to the second floor where the rooms must be located, eager to find the perfect room for me, eager to build my own space that's not a barren room with one bed, one sink and white sterile walls all over. I want to decorate the room to the point of suffocation and make something of my own where no one else has a say. 

I cringe away from the dirt sticking to my shoes and the stale smell of wood. I need to do a lot of cleaning up here, maybe even leave my own imprint on someone's past life. 

As I climb up the last pair of stairs I am faced with a hallway full of doors, hiding behind them mysteries I can't wait to unfold, six in total, six rooms to choose from. But then the thought hits me, five rooms. One is Henry's. 

I wonder which one he chose, I wonder if I'll stumble upon his room, I wonder what he's doing. I shake my head, in an attempt to shake the thoughts out of my head. We have both harmed each other enough today, I need peace and rest. 

I head to the furthest door to my right and twist the doorknob in my hand. Immediately I am faced with an unpleasant smell that makes my nose scrunch upwards in disgust. I need to air this whole house out as well. I wonder how many months or years the house has been abandoned. 

I spot two twin-sized beds, each one on either side of the wall with a bucket full of old toys between them. Children's drawings litter the walls and soon I am faced with the realization that a family once lived here. 

What happened to them?

I push open the door next to the children's room, being faced this time with a desk that overlooks the garden of the house, papers discarded all over the polished wood, a floor-to-ceiling bookcase overfilled with well-read books and a worn-in leather chaise. An office. 

I walk inside the room, pick up the paperwork, and start to read them, but I soon notice that my reading is very poor. 

I have forgotten how to read. 

Not wanting to face that problem of mine right now, I flee to the next room that features a queen-sized bed, a dresser three times my size and a small desk with a pile of notebooks and stationery supplies, and the only room with a balcony. This must be the room with the balcony that I saw when we were on the front porch of the house. 

Immediately I know that this will be my room, it must. It speaks to me in a way that no other has, it calls my name and begs me to inhabit it, to leave my imprint on it. 

I head to the balcony, and lean on the marble railing, looking out on the driveway and the ends of the forest in front of me. 

It's perfect. It's mine. 

I feel the first sprouts of love grow in me, the protectiveness rise in me like a tall and proud tree. Is that what it feels like to have a place to call yours? Something that screams your name? Is this what it feels like to have something belong to you? 

I walk to my bed and fall headfirst on it. The mattress bounces back and for the first time in a while, I smile. I have a bed, I have a room, I have a house. 

I laugh, I laugh with all my might until it's all I can hear. I laugh until my lungs feel raw and my tongue dries but despite that I am happy, I am so glad that I fulfilled the only dream I had. I might be alone, but I made it nonetheless. It would be better if Henry was with me right now, I would love to share this moment with him, but regardless of that, I am still happy and nothing can take that away from me right now. 

For the first time in my life, it's just me. I am all alone and I don't mind, in fact, I prefer the solace of this moment over any other company I could have. I haven't been on my own for years now, there is always someone creeping around the corner. It's liberating, I am finally independent and no shackles bound me, padded or not. I am all on my own, with no manacles, nothing is restraining me. I am blissfully free. 

And as the realization dawns on me, I realize that I will never be a prisoner again. Come hell or high water I'll live the rest of my life in freedom, and no one can take that away from me. Now that I've gotten a taste I can't go back. 

I don't know if the tears are those of joy or pent-up frustration, but all I know is that the exhaustion is knocking me over and my power seems to disappear as I let down every wall and barbed wire raised to protect me. I turn my power off and lay my head on the dusty pillow. 

I am finally at home. No hunter to escape, no nurses with needles chasing me around, no more mad men and their cruel experiments, no more bullies. 

I am at peace. 

A.N. - although Henry is in the other room crying his eyes out, I am happy for Eve and the progress she has made.