Grit To Grace

Four

Fallyn steered the car into the parking lot, the quiet hum of the engine a stark contrast to the tense silence within. The drive had been devoid of conversation, a shared agreement to avoid words after the events at the Oasis. As soon as the car came to a stop, she reached into her bag, her hand emerging with a laminated badge. With a weary sigh, she stepped out of the car and led Will to the main entrance. She showed the badge to the employee waiting at the entrance, who smiled and let them pass with a respectful greeting. Will paid it no mind, though, his attention solely on what lay ahead of them.

The town stretched before him, its familiar silhouette unchanged. Yet, a chilling presence hung heavy in the air, a palpable darkness that shrouded the once vibrant streets. A handful of figures, mostly staff members, drifted listlessly through the dusty pathways, their movements echoing the town's eerie silence. It had become a specter of its former self; a ghost. 

 Several buildings were cordoned off, declared off-limits due to their perilous state. The bank, the jail, the school, and the bookstore all stood as crumbling testaments to time's relentless decay. The staff feared they would soon collapse entirely. The saloon, once a hub of laughter and lively conversation, was now a somber shell of its former glory. No music filled the air, no voices mingled in friendly chatter. Peering through the dusty windows, he saw that it was almost entirely deserted. He walked towards the general store, only to find a meager, lifeless collection of cheap souvenirs. The sight of the sheriff's office was the worst. 

He had spent countless hours within those walls, crafting some of his most cherished memories. Now, it stood as a dilapidated storage unit, its once-proud façade crumbling and closed to the public. He sank to the ground against the back wall, battling the tide of emotion that threatened to consume him.The world he had always known had vanished. Until that moment he had clung to a sliver of disbelief like it was his only lifeline. He'd reached for and grasped a hope that it was all a dream, a nightmare he could still somehow wake from. Standing amidst the ruins of his past, the stark reality crashed over him. 

 Fallyn approached Will, her steps hesitant. She wouldn't touch him, she knew if she did, there was a chance she'd be subjected to the horrors of the past. It wasn't a reality she was ready to face yet. She crouched beside him, her sigh a soft whisper of empathy in the oppressive silence.

"I'm sorry. I can't imagine how you're feeling, seeing your home like this. It's a pathetic-" she was interrupted by a tall, gangly redhead waking in.

"Hey! You two can't be in here. You need to leave." His command was barked. Fallyn rolled her eyes, which only made the young man scowl.

"Can you wait a minute? My friend was having a panic attack and we needed a quiet place." She explained. All the while, she refused to turn toward him. She didn't want to give him any attention for this. 

"Doesn't matter! This is an employee only area," he growled. "I don't know who you think you are, and I don't care, but if I have to drag you out by your hair to get you out of here--" Fallyn stood up, spinning on her heel to face the employee. She wasn't tall, only 5'2, but when her eyes sparked with fire and her every word was coated with venom, she could make men twice her size back down.

"Do you always threaten our patrons, or is that a privilege reserved for the owners' daughter exclusively?" She waved the small piece of plastic at him. "Because if you do, I'll gladly make a personal report to the owners." 

"Leave it, Fallyn," Will finally cut in. "We should just go. There's nothing here for us, anyhow." He stood up, wavering on his feet. The last thing he wanted today was a fight. "He's just doin' his job."

Fallyn let out a huff and then gave the employee one last hateful look. While she didn't know Will well, the sadness in his eyes killed her. It reminded her of the first time she met Aveline St. Claire, her best friend.