Ilook over the completed map sprawled across the old wooden table. Notes and scribbles adorn almost every empty spot on the paper, creating a cacophony of mine and Adam’s thoughts. We’ve been here all day, only leaving for a bathroom break here and there, and I’m finally starting to grasp why this needs to be done.
My thoughts are still twisted, almost like an abandoned pile of yarn, yet the comfort that Adam brings me and my pull to Kameron drag me towards their side. I’ve always been one to trust my gut. Whether that was looking into John’s killing or opening myself up to listen to Kam, it has never steered me wrong. Even as a child when my mother got sick, something told me to stray from my dad. Three days after her death is when his affair came to light, causing me to legally change my name. I had to honor her, not the scumbag who wasn’t there for her in her darkest moments.
“Oh my,” Adam calls out, “I hadn’t realized the time. Are you hungry?” His greying mustache curls up as he smiles over to me.
“You’ve done so much, how about I make dinner tonight?”
His smile grows wider, “That sounds good, thank you Lilith. I’ve never been a good cook, and eating something that doesn’t taste like dog food sounds wonderful right now.”
I can’t help the giggle that escapes me as I respond, “oh! It isn’t that bad.”
I pat his forearm as I stand up and head to the kitchen. His presence through this entire experience has been the only grounding point I have had. A meal is the least I could do.
I flick the light switch in the kitchen, illuminating the small, yellow counters. The old floral wallpaper has definitely seen better days, but there’s something so nostalgic that hangs in the air. This kitchen has been well loved, and it shows through every crack and crevice.
I pull open the cupboards and start digging through our non-perishables. The supplies have diminished exponentially since the first time I looked, and a wave of nervousness makes its way through me. According to Adam, we can’t leave. Elijah has hundreds of people digging around Colorado, trying to get their hands on the three of us.
The idea of going back unsettles me, not at the thought of seeing Elijah, a part of me still trusts him, still believes his intentions were holy and that this is all a misunderstanding. No, the part that unsettles me is leaving Kameron.
I manage to rummage up enough supplies to make a somewhat lacking stir fry, and get to work. The oil in the pan sizzles as the canned vegetables make contact. “I didn’t know you cooked.”
Kameron’s voice startles me, causing me to jump back from the stove. I glare over at him, having to look up to make eye contact. I haven’t seen him since he left Adam and I to create the map. “I didn’t know you were watching me,” I mumble back, immediately pulling my bottom lip in between my teeth. “I guess that stalking me is something you’re pretty good at.”
His light chuckle soaks through the air in the kitchen as he steps towards me. His presence causes butterflies to storm through my stomach. I want to hate him, yet everyday the anger that I once held for the monster in front of me, slips farther from my grasp. He breaks our eye contact, nodding towards dinner.
“Oh fuck me,” I exclaim turning to witness what little vegetables we have charring. I flip the switch on the stovetop and quickly yank the steel pan from the top. The oil inside splatters out, coating my fingertips with a searing pain. Kameron reaches forward, his hand placing itself on top of mine, causing electric jolts to travel their way up my arm. He yanks the pan from my hold, setting it down on the opposite burner.
“Are you okay?” His worry does something to me that I hate to admit. He scans over my hand while ushering me over to the sink. Grabbing onto my wrist, he pulls my hand into the flowing water. The lukewarm temperature eases the ache gnawing against my limb.
“Thank you,” I quietly acknowledge him, daring myself to look up at him. I regret it the moment I do. My heart aches for the devil, the man who destroyed my life, the one who bombed my place of worship, the one who has wormed their way into every thought that travels through my mind. His lips pull up into a gentle smile, amplifying the fear inside of me.Why can’t I hate you?
“I can finish up dinner,” he offers. “You should go get this dressed. I'm fairly certain Adam has a small medical kit.”
“Do you even know how to cook?” The glimmer in his eye seems to shine brighter as I attempt to fight back on his mental hold on me. In between killing people and stalking me, I can’t imagine him taking up a cooking class. And I promised Adam a good dinner, it’s the least I could do considering.
“My mother taught me.” His voice is laced with sadness as he responds. It never once occurred to me that before he was my Villian, he was still someone. Guilt gnaws at me, replaying the story Adam had fed me. I know he lost her on his fourteenth birthday, but I had been too stuck in the story to even contemplate what that must have been like. What watching the two people who loved you most in this world perish right in front of you, unable to stop it. I find myself mourning for that little boy, wondering who Kameron could’ve been if the tragedy hadn’t struck. “The kitchen was always her favorite place to be. I swear food was her love language.”
The admiration in his words tugs at my heart. My mother was my best friend, truly the light of my life. And while I lost her too, it was expected. I didn’t wake up on a day like any other andlose her. Her death was unavoidable and we knew it was only a matter of time as the disease progressed.
“Fine,” I huff out, using what strength I have left to fight against his hold on me. “But I promised Adam a good meal, so don’t fuck it up."
Thirty minutes later, I find myself laughing with Adam on the old twine couch. He’s been telling me stories of his life, with much added exaggeration. I don’t mind though, the silly little tales are a much needed escape from the nightmare I’ve been trapped in since November. We’ve made our way into December, and as the sky has grown darker, so has my happiness. Constantly being torn between a murderer and yearning for a home that might have been built on lies will do that to even the strongest person.And I am not strong.
“-And that is how I met the CEO of Crocs,” He throws his hands up in the air as though he was preaching to a room full of sinners, fighting to get his point across. The belly laugh takes hold of me as I double over on the couch, clutching onto my stomach.
“Please tell me you two stayed in contact after that,” I force my words out through the giggles.
“Now that’s a story for another time, sweetheart.” He leans back on the couch, taking a swig of his beer, smirking at me in between gulps. My jaw aches from laughter, but I can’t help it as my eyes meet his. More chuckles seep through me, causing his smirk to widen into a full blown smile.
The kitchen door swings open, a delicious smell entering into the living room as it hits the wall beside it. “Dinner’s ready!” Kameron’s voice calls out. On cue, my stomach grumbles. Today has been such a whirlwind, I haven’t eaten anything. Right now even a piece of bread sounds like a delicacy.
Adam and I make our way to the kitchen, where we’re greeted with plates piled high with the first real meal we’ve had since arriving. Rice, vegetables, and a sauce that smells like heaven sit atop of three plates, ready for the taking.
“My oh my, Kameron. A jack of all trades!” Adam compliments Kameron as he pulls out utensils for each person. He leans over, patting Kam on the back with a grin plastered across his mug. “Thank you.”
Kameron returns the smile and nods. We take our plates and make our way to the small dining table, sitting down ready to feast. The first fork full hits my taste buds and I fight to suppress the moans.This is incredible.Nostalgia hits me as the taste coats my tongue. Something about this meal tastes like home. Nothomeas in The Garden, or even my old apartment.Homeas in a place I feel safe and loved.Homeas in a room full of people who care deeply about one another, one where no one feels forgotten or unseen.
My eyes glaze over as I glare down at my plate. It’s just food, but somehow it’s so much more than that. It’s safety, for the first time in eight years. It’s affection finding its way back to me after so much hardship. The first tear slips, and I quickly wipe it away, embarrassed by my reaction.
