HOT MILK - HOMELANDER

SOUR MILK, BITTER FAMILY

Jane stood in her garden, pegging white sheets on the line.

The rare Scottish sunshine bathed her cottage in light, but the wind whipped her black hair across her face, obscuring her vision.

She brushed it aside for what felt like the hundredth time, just in time to see a figure moving up the long driveway.

Though the person was still a blur, Jane knew it wasn't anyone from the village.

The garish shirt was a dead giveaway; no local would be caught wearing something like that.

Her heart hammered in her chest. Trying to appear casual, she moved toward the house, fighting the urge to sprint.

She locked the door behind her, pressing her back against the excellent wood as she took deep breaths.

Were they finally coming for her?

Ever since her escape, she had dreaded this day. She had meticulously covered her tracks, but what if she had slipped up?

The fear gnawed at her.

She had always known they would find her eventually, but she never let herself dwell on it.

Now, the reality crashed over her—what would they do?

Lock her up in some supe prison?

Kill her outright?

Her mind raced with terrifying possibilities.But then, a sliver of hope.

Indeed, they wouldn't send just one person. Not for her.

Unless...unless it was a supe.

Panic surged anew.

A heavy knock jolted her from her thoughts.

Jane stared at the door, her hands trembling. It had been so long since she used her powers, but she would if she had to.

"Oi, Jane?"

Her head snapped up. She knew that voice. Jane felt her heart thudding in her chest, threatening to burst through her ribs.

William?

She inhaled deeply before swinging it open.

Her eyes widened as she beheld the man standing before her.

"Bloody hell, you've grown," he remarked, his gaze lingering on her face.

Jane remained silent. Time has its way of changing people.

She stared back at him.

"It's like Edna's standing right here," he added, giving her shoulder a light pat.

Cutting through any small talk, Jane's voice was steady but urgent. "How did you find me?"

"It wasn't easy, I can tell you that," he replied, brushing past her to enter the cottage. You've got yourself a nice place here,"

Jane observed him silently. It had been eight years since she last saw him.

He glanced at her, expecting a response."Look, I'm sorry about what I said the last time we spoke," he continued, his voice carrying a weight of regret.

Jane's gaze fell to the floor, a rush of memories flooding. She felt small again, like the frightened sixteen-year-old who had escaped the institution, seeking refuge with her uncle, only to face rejection.

His words echoed in her mind, sometimes in his voice, sometimes in her parents' or brother's.

"Listen, Jane, I believe you. I've always believed you," he insisted, sincerely meeting her sceptical gaze. "Back then, I was just so damn angry at the world. I couldn't take care of myself, let alone you."