The Liverly

III

I jolt upright and scramble out of the bed, looking frantically around as I try to remember where I am. Yesterday's events rush back to me, and I sigh, settling down on the bed for a second before jumping upright and dashing into the sitting room. The clock on the mantle reads noon. I missed breakfast, but I'm not that hungry, so it's okay. I sit down on the plush carpeting and drag my bookbag closer to me. The largest pouch holds my measly amount of clothes, the stupid things all humans need like a toothbrush, hairbrush, and all that crap. The smaller one has a few keepsakes mixed with an obsessive amount of drawing supplies. You can never have too many pencils and pens. After getting those few items sorted or dumped in locations throughout the apartment, I cautiously peek out the main door before heading down the stairs to the kitchen.

Ms. Husby is putting dishes in the dishwasher, humming to herself while Tyrell sits at the kitchen table, books and papers spread all over. Caleb comes around the corner, and we nearly collide like Tyrell and I did last night, but I step away, avoiding him. He glances at me, says nothing, and heads back up the stairs.

I clear my throat and step into the kitchen, "Good morning, er, afternoon," I mutter, glancing around. Tyrell looks up and grins, setting down his pencil.

"Hey, Gwen!" he says loudly. Ms. Husby stops putting away dishes and turns around, smiling as well.

"Sorry, I missed breakfast," I say. "I guess I was more tired than I thought."

Tyrell clears part of the table and motions for me to sit down across from him. Ms. Husby opens the fridge and pulls out a plate of bacon. "We made sure to save some for you. Would you like a biscuit or some toast?"

"Biscuit, please," I say, my face flushing a bit at the thought of them thinking about me. It's like something mom would do when we had company ever. She was the epitome of hostess.

"Jam or sliced cheese? Would you like eggs as well?" Ms. Husby asks as she heats up the bacon.

"Cheese, please, and I don't really like eggs."

Ms. Husby slices up cheddar cheese and places it between the biscuit, making a little sandwich. She puts bacon on the plate and sets it in front of me before getting me a glass of orange juice. "Let me know if you need anything else, dear," she says, going back to loading the dishwasher.

Tyrell eyes the bacon on my plate, and I hand him a piece. He grins and munches on it happily, wiping his fingers on his pants before turning back to look at the mess in front of him.

"What are you doing?" I ask, looking at all the massive textbooks and scribbled notes.

"Psychology," he says with a grimace. "My professor for Criminal Procedure wants us to work on this massive end of the year project, and we're supposed to study an unsolved crime. I just can't choose what I want to work on, though."

I blink. "You're in college?"

He shrugs and smiles, scratching his head. "Yeah, I get that a lot. People think I'm too young, but I'm nineteen."

"Are you in college?" Ms. Husby asks as she pours coffee into a mug.

"No," I say. I don't want to get into how old I am. She would have to call the cops if she knew.

"A college degree is a good thing to invest in," she says sagely as she sits down and stirs her drink.

"I'll keep that in mind." I have no interest in school. I never have. Well, maybe once I did. I excuse myself, frowning as I walk up the steps. My hand hits the wallet in my pocket as I walk, and I pause, remembering if I want to stay here, I have to pay rent. Do I want to stay? I tally up how much I have, about eight hundred dollars. I guess I need to find out how much rent is first before I commit to staying or going.

I walk back down and stand awkwardly by the hallway, waiting for either Tyrell to leave or Ms. Husby to walk my way so I can talk to her alone. Neither happens, so I sigh, resigning myself to this discussion, and walk back into the kitchen. "Ms. Husby?" I ask quietly. Tyrell glances my way and continues flipping through books. He has a pencil in his mouth, brows scrunched. I can't help smiling a little at that. He's so earnest. Ms. Husby looks up, "Yes, dear?" she asks.

"I wanted to ask how much rent might be, if I could stay. If you want me, that is," I say the last part hurriedly.

She nods and thinks for a second, sipping her coffee. The aroma hits me and I think of my dad. He loved coffee, too. I mentally shake my head. I can't think about them right now. "How does three hundred a month sound?" she asks. "You can help me around the house like Tyrell does with the dishes and cleaning, and help me run errands and bring in the groceries."

My eyes widen. That's so cheap! I hurriedly pull out my wallet and thumb through it, handing her the cash. She looks at it, then at me, but says nothing. I swallow. Is it not typical to give people cash for rent?

"I wouldn't normally do this," she says, setting down her coffee mug and turning o look fully at me, "but I can tell you need this, whatever this is. If you ever need to talk to someone about what brought you here and who hurt you, I'm here to listen, but I won't push you and I won't go to the police about it as long as you don't cause us any trouble. I want you to be safe."

"Thank you," I breathe. "Thank you so much." I jump up and look around, before turning to her. "What do you need done around the house?" I'm ready to earn my keep.

She smiles again, that sweet, soft smile from a mother. "You can help with the dishes before dinner, but right now, I want you to rest and relax."

I sit back down. I don't have to worry about where I'm going or food for a month, maybe longer if I can get a part time job. This gives me time to do research, to find a way to get rid of that creature. To avenge my family.