Epilouge
If I told you my entire back story, you’d give me that pity face and I really hate the pity face. You know the one that always seems to be followed by, “oh, honey,” or something to that effect. Being an empath means I get to physically feel your pity for me every time. So, I try to avoid all things... people. It’s not bad now, I enjoy my solitude. After the chaos the last 10 years have caused, quiet is nice. At 23 years old, most girls my age go out, meet guys, hang out with the girls. All the things you do in your early twenties, as Rita likes to tell me every chance she gets.
Rita is my boss, and my only friend. I met her the day I was kicked out of my dad’s place. I was driving out of town and found this quirky little café with a cheesy witchy theme. I knew I needed food before I drove as far from this town as possible. Well, that was my goal, until I realized as I sat in that café, my wallet only had about $300 in it. That would not last me two days in terms of food, gas, and a place to sleep. So I sat staring at the seat in front of me for so long I did not hear Rita ask me about my order.
Eventually, after being in the café most of the day, Rita properly introduced herself and asked me what was wrong. I didn’t know what lie would work, and I had a headache from the stress of trying to process, so I gave her the whole truth. After a long discussion, the first to ever feel real and not forced due to pity, she stuck her hand out in a way I will forever be grateful. She offered me a job, and a place to stay. Her dad has a hunting cabin three miles north of the café. He no longer uses it any more, as the only thing he hunts these days is the TV remote, as Rita puts it. I tried to offer the money I had as a deposit of sort, but she declined, telling me to get the things I would need at the cabin. How do you turn that down? I don’t know where I would have been without Rita and Mr. Porter.
Things were never regular for me growing up. We moved a lot, but I always thought my father would have my back no matter what. It used to be just my father and I against the world. Until SHE came sniffing around. Trina, my father’s evil new bride. She wormed her way into his heart and brainwashed him into believing I was so heavy on drugs I couldn’t be saved. I have never done anything hardcore. I smoke weed to deal with being an empath, and the quiet it all down. But somehow, she found out, and had my dad drug test me the moment I walked through the door. That’s all it took. She told him the only way for me to learn was to learn on my own, and since I had turned 18 and graduated high school within that month, they told me to kick rocks.
That’s how I ended up working at a small, corky cafe and living in a cabin as far away from my father’s place as possible. Besides, I didn’t particularly like people. I was never the “popular” one. I had a few friends here and there, but I just stuck to myself with my nose in a book. It was easier than being disappointed by people. Because let's face it, most people disappoint. It is the unfair way of the world, no point dwelling or hoping for a different outcome. So I just keep on, slowly building that savings that will eventually get me out of this ranky dank town and all the small-minded people.
If I am being honest with myself, I stay away from people because I know they won’t particularly like me. Being an empath does give me some abilities I try to keep hidden. I really do not like being called a witch. I spent the good part of my very young life being called a witch. The kids in my old neighborhood used to chant outside of my house, “Amelia the witch!” until their parents called them home. This was before Trina, before we moved to this town with nothing but farmland on one side, and a forest that stretches deep into the mountains on the other. I feel like I am trapped in the middle of a bunch of nothing and animals that may eat me at any moment. Its… great.
“Its just for a fresh perspective on life.” That’s what my dad always told me when I asked why we were in this town of all towns. I asked this a lot, I hated it at first. There was maybe 1500 people in the entire town, and everyone was in everyone else’s business. To top it off, the town had its own spook factor. Even though my comments on the matter were always brushed off by everyone.
There is this old road about 5 miles from the cabin I am currently living in, that runs deep into the forest. Every once in a while, I would see these huge trucks coming and going, with guys all piled in the back. But I never had the courage to go see what’s atop that mountain. I have heard the rumors, some say its a cult, some say there is a private school for the worst of the worst kids. Some say its where the oldest looney bin in the state is. Whatever the truth is, seems creepy enough to not go up there. Not to mention the fact that whatever I feel coming from that mountain is not like anything normal people express. Its almost…. Animalistic in nature, but still somehow different.
