Chapter Text
After the first three times Stevie tried to break up with Henry Hector Harrison, she did the only thing that was left to do. Though it was Stevie’s condo, Stevie’s furniture, Stevie’s backyard- Henry wouldn’t leave. When a job posting for a full-time adventurer popped up a few hours away, she found her out.
“Do I need all these mugs…?” she mumbled to herself, throwing things quickly into boxes that had been hidden in her car for the past week. But she imagined leaving the mugs here, in the hands of Henry, and promptly placed them into her box. She packed away all her books, her DVD’s. She took all her dishes and cutlery, passed down to her from auntie Maureen. When a box was full, she ran it into her gray SUV before continuing with packing. Things were scattered through the boxes— she hardly had time for organization.
“I have to pack my entire life into ten bins in just four hours,” she’d said to her sister the night before, “I’m going to have to prioritize.”
But the thought of leaving any of her possessions with Henry made her want to cry.
Scrapbooks were difficult. They took up so much space, but they were worth more than anything else in the house combined. Before tossing them into a box, Stevie couldn’t help but leaf through the pages. This particular scrapbook was Stevie’s first one— photos of her and her family at the beach were covered with glitter glue and star stickers. A giant, pipe-cleaner arrow pointed towards a woman with long, red hair, accompanied by “Mom” written in blue glitter glue. Similar arrows pointed to “Cassidy” and “Dad.” The next page featured a photo of Stevie and her mother holding matching ice cream cones—
“What are you doing?”
She dropped the scrapbook into the bin, her hands flying faster than her brain could realize what or who was happening.
“What does it look like?” Stevie spoke after a short silence. She looked up at Henry, her lip curled in disgust.
Henry’s eyes were crumpled and pooling with tears. “Why are you doing this?”
“As if I haven’t tried to fix this?” Stevie exploded, standing up. “As if I haven't been begging you to do better for months? ”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Henry took a step back, sobbing.
“Oh my God,” Stevie threw her arms up in the air, exasperated. “You’re lazy. You’re a slob. You haven’t lifted a finger since you moved in. Your friends are dicks to me and you don’t give a shit. Let’s start there.”
Henry was about to reply when Stevie started up again.
“You work, like, fifteen hours a week and then you come home—” she took on a whiny, mocking voice— “ Stephanie , I’m tired, Stephanie , where’s dinner? Stephanie , can you run me a bath?’ Meanwhile , I work full time and risk my ass in the forest when I’m needed! I work more in a week than you do in a month but you lay around and take, and you take, and you take! I asked you to help out a little bit, I asked you to—”
Click.
Stevie froze.
Henry was holding a gun, and it was pointed right at her. A gun. An actual, real life gun.
“Are you fucking serious right now?” She almost looked amused, staring down the barrel back at Henry. “When did you even get that?”
“Put those books back on the shelf. Wherever you put all your shit, put it back.”
She grimaced. “No.”
Henry trained the gun towards the ceiling and shot. The shock rattled the room, sending photos on the wall to the floor with a crash.
“You can’t stop me!” She yelled, as the gun met her eyes again.
“Yes I can, I have a gun!” Henry was yelling now.
“You have a lot of nerve, is what you have!” She yelled back. Another bullet hit the ceiling with a loud, deep, boom. “You won’t shoot me. I know that.”
“I can and I will,” he said, as his voice wobbled. “Where were you planning on going?” He snarled, clearly doing his very best to look intimidating, but he was scrawny and pale and not particularly tall.
Stevie laughed in a cynical sort of way. “Fat chance I’d tell you.”
“Tell them you’re not going!”
“Who’s ‘them’, the whole city?” she mocked, “oh, let me just phone the concept of a—”
A gunshot rang out through the room, again, into the ceiling. Stevie was prepared this time and launched herself at him right as he was shouting something about her being a bitch. She slapped the gun out of his hand and it clattered to the floor meters away. After a short struggle, her face hung inches above his. He wriggled around under her weight but her hands and knees pinned him to the carpet.
“I am leaving and you can’t stop me,” she told him with a sort of emotionless tone he couldn’t decipher. “I’m going to phone the police to let them know what happened. You’re going to stay here until they come.”
“Like fuck I’m not,” he screamed, as if trying to knock her back with sound waves.
Stevie sort of chuckled. “Like fuck I’m not.’ That’s a new one.”
“Fuck you, Steph.”
In a swift motion, Stevie brought Henry’s hands together above his head and pinned them down with one of her hands, leaving one free to take her phone from her pocket.
“Your armpit stinks,” he said, struggling against her strength.
She tapped ‘911’ onto the screen. “Fuck you,” she replied, absentmindedly. It rang for a moment before an operator picked up.
Stevie struggled for a while to talk to the operator. Henry kept yelling over her, shouting things like “help me!” “She's restraining me!” “She's going to kill me!” “She has a gun!” And he wriggled free from her grasp at one point, but with her phone on the floor she used both her hands to pin him down once more.
“The police are on their way,” the voice on the other end eventually concluded.
“The door is locked,” Henry muttered. “They wouldn’t be able to get in, anyway.”
“Then they’ll break it down,” Stevie replied, coldly, “doesn’t much matter to me. I’m leaving.”
He was quiet in her grasp for a moment, and when Stevie looked down at him once more, he was crying softly.
“Look,” Stevie spoke soft, but firm. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You did,” he sniffed.
A sigh escaped Stevie’s lips. “I’m sorry.”
“Why do you hate me? Have you always hated me?” His voice crackled weakly as he spoke.
“I don’t hate you.” Stevie’s face softened, “but I’m not happy with you. And I have the right to leave if I want to.” She took in a breath and let one out. “I’m tired of you trying to stop me with your crying, your yelling, your… I don’t know, firearms.”
“I loved you, Stephanie,” he whimpered.
And in a moment of vulnerability, he broke free and scrambled towards the gun. He took it quickly in his hands and pointed towards Stevie again. She stood up, glaring at him. They were facing off, scowling at eachother across the living room.
“Crocodile tears,” Stevie scoffed. “Colour me surprised.”
Henry was backing up now, towards the front door. “I’m going to leave. You’re going to let me leave.”
“Am I?” Stevie crossed her arms. Something caught her eye out the window.
“You are or else I’m going to shoot you.”
Stevie shook her head with a chuckle. “You wouldn’t. You can’t.”
Henry stared at her. Stevie stared back. Henry’s eyes were unrecognizable.
And then he shot her.
“It’s so lovely to meet you!” Adeline threw her arms around Stevie, who returned the hug cautiously but gratefully.
“It’s nice to be here,” Stevie replied, “things have been so…” she waved her hands in the air, “all over the place.”
“How are you doing now?” asked Eiland, who Stevie had knew was Adeline’s brother.
“Oh, great! I just finished up a book on the train ride here.” She held up a small book with “Stephen King” written on the front in large font. She sort of chuckled, patting her side. “The hole in my side is doing alright, too. Random pains here and there, but I’ll manage.”
“Please let me know if you need anything at all,” Adeline’s hand gently found Stevie’s shoulder, “and don’t push yourself. There is much to be done, but it’s never worth hurting yourself over.”
Stevie nodded. “I know. Thank you.” She couldn’t seem to escape that phrase recently. Don’t push yourself. But all she had ever wanted to do was push herself.
Eiland leapt over the gap in land where the bridge had been before the earthquake. Adeline offered to help Stevie, but she was confident (and proud) enough to attempt the leap herself. Out of the six weeks she’d spend recovering, the past two had been gentle exercise, testing her limits little by little. She desperately wanted to pretend her body was normal, that no copper had ever broken her skin. She wanted to swing her sword and lift heavy things and jog for miles without stopping like she used to. She wanted to push herself like she used to.
“Good morning, Ryis!” Eiland chirped at a man down the pathway. He was tall and lean and he was carrying a basket in his hands.
“‘Morning Eiland, Adeline…’ he smiled at Stevie as he approached the group. “Stephanie, right?”
She cringed a little. “Call me Stevie!” Stevie shook his mahogany hand, taking in his presence. A gentle sparkle seemed to live in his eyes, a secondary light for the sun to extend its reach.
“Ryis,” he smiled a kind, inviting smile. “I’m a carpenter, I live just over there,” he gestured vaguely behind him. His other hand was holding a basket, which he presented to Stevie. “I was on my way to your place, actually, to drop this off. Just a little welcome gift.”
Stevie took the basket, full of various fruits and herbs. A card was tucked inside as well.
“Oh!” Adeline pointed at the card, “a gift card for the Inn?”
Ryis nodded.
Adeline turned to Stevie, her face bright as the sky. “Every week on Fridays, the whole town goes to the Inn for drinks and snacks. It’s a lot of fun. So I hope you’ll be using that!”
“Oh, I will!” Stevie examined the card before returning it to its bed of fruit and herbs. “Thank you!”
“No worries! See you around, Stevie.”