I don’t answer. My fingers trail lightly over the edge of my vanity. It’s clean, no longer wobbly as it was. And not a scratch in sight.
“Are you okay?” There’s a tightness in his voice I’ve never heard before.
I glance around the room again. It doesn’t even look like the same space anymore. The room where I was dragged from. Where my dignity was stripped piece by humiliating piece.
That room was dark and cold, and so small.
This one isn’t. The bed is neatly made. Fresh sheets tucked tight at the corners. The window is wider than I remember, but I know it’s the same damn window.
There’s even a damn throw blanket I bought a few months ago, folded at the end of the mattress.
I swallow hard and risk a glance over my shoulder.
He’s smiling, but it’s the most nervous smile I’ve ever seen on his face.
His eyes flick from the bed, to the vanity, to me—as if waiting for me to explode.
When I don’t, he exhales slowly. “Alright,” he says, clapping his hands together once like he’s dismissing himself. “I’ll leave you to it.” He gestures vaguely toward the ceiling of the new living room. “Just gotta get the chimney pipe… uh… yeah.”
Before I can even respond, he hurries past me, nearly stumbling. He grabs a bundle of plastic mattress covers lying near the door and scoops up a small pile of garbage from the floor. His tools go into a box with loud, clumsy clanks. Then he disappears, leaving me alone.
I take a slow step deeper into the room. My room. or something like it.
I stand there for a long time before finally stepping back into the living area. The space feels strangely quiet. Almost peaceful.
A few minutes pass. Then there’s a knock. Before I can answer, the door opens slightly and Ruin steps in.
He doesn’t look at me. Not really.
Instead he walks straight to the counter and places a bowl down.
Fresh grapes. Washed and destemmed.
He clears his throat awkwardly. Then turns and leaves as quickly as he came.
The door shuts behind him with a soft click.
I stare at the bowl of grapes sitting on my counter. And for a long moment, I stand there wondering—
What the hell happened? Or maybe more importantly…
What the hell just changed?
TWENTY-FOUR
Charlotte
Grapes.
I’ve been staring at this bowl of grapes for a good twenty minutes. Ignoring the soft clanging outside and an occasional movement of the chimney pipe above me.
I know the exact moment when he screws on the vent cover, and silence takes over. My legs keep twitching, aching to walk over to the window and glimpse through the curtains.
And now, with the quiet and solitude—peace—Ruin has created, I’m feeling awfully sleepy. Even blinking becomes a chore.
A heavy weight lifts off of me, craving the solace of the bedroom right next to me. A room I never thought I’d ever dream of entering again.
But it’s not the same room, is it? It’s been broken down to its core and rebuilt. And I have no idea why Ruin has done this.
