The Silence And The Alcohol
1014 Words
Chapter 2: The Weight of Silence
The drive to the edge of the nature reserve was silent. Luvia drove herself. She didn't need a driver, and she certainly didn't need bodyguards, despite the rumors that she employed "hitmen." Her presence was a fortress in itself. As the tires of her black sedan crunched over the gravel path leading toward the forest, the birds seemed to stop singing. It wasn't that she was a monster; it was simply that the world felt small when she was in it.
She stepped out of the car, her heels clicking softly on the damp earth. The air smelled of pine and impending rain. Luvia adjusted her coat, her eyes scanning the small, weathered cabin tucked under the canopy of ancient oaks.
"Eliza," Luvia murmured to herself. The name felt soft.
She walked toward the porch. This was the girl who had sent her interns back in tears. This was the "sweet girl" who had finally snapped. Luvia reached the door and knocked—three precise, even strikes.
No answer.
Luvia waited. She was a woman of infinite patience. She waited for three minutes, watching the way the shadows of the leaves danced on the wooden door. When she finally reached for the handle, she found it unlocked.
The cabin was empty. But it wasn't just empty of people; it felt empty of soul. A cold cup of tea sat on the table. A chair was overturned. The scent of Eliza’s lingering frustration was almost tangible in the air, mixed with a faint, floral perfume. Luvia walked to the small desk and saw a crumpled piece of paper—a letter from Eliza's parents.
Luvia didn't need to read it to know the pain it contained. She felt the vibration of the room. Eliza hadn't just left; she had fled. She had run away from the pressure of the land, the pressure of her past, and the pressure of the powerful woman who was coming for her.
"You aren't here," Luvia whispered, her eyes dark and thoughtful. "So, where does a sweet girl go when she finally breaks?"
Chapter 2: The Neon Purgatory
In the heart of the city, miles away from the whispering trees, Eliza stood beneath a flickering neon sign. It was a bar called The Iron Lily. She had never been to a place like this. Her life had always been quiet, tucked away in nature, filled with "sweet words" and gentle manners.
But tonight, the sweetness was gone. Her encounter with her parents had left a bitter, metallic taste in her mouth. Her heart felt like a trapped bird beating against her ribs. She couldn't go back to the cabin. She couldn't be "Good Eliza" anymore.
She pushed the heavy velvet doors open.
The air inside was thick with the smell of expensive tobacco, aged whiskey, and the low hum of bass music that vibrated in the floorboards. Eliza felt small, but for the first time in her life, she didn't mind. She wanted to disappear into the noise.
She walked to the bar, her movements slow and shaky. Every eye in the room seemed to track her. She looked out of place—her sundress was slightly dusty from the forest, and her hair was windswept. She looked like a lost angel who had accidentally fallen into a den of wolves.
"Something strong," Eliza said to the bartender. Her voice cracked. "I don't care what it is."
The bartender looked at her for a long moment, noting the raw redness in her eyes and the way her hands were clenched into fists. He poured a dark amber liquid into a glass.
Eliza took a sip. It burned. It was a violent, searing heat that traveled down her throat and settled in her chest. She welcomed it. The burn was better than the hollowness she felt inside. She took another sip, and then another, letting the world around her start to blur.
She didn't notice the man sitting in the corner booth—a man with sharp eyes and a jagged scar along his jaw. Luvia’s rival.
He watched Eliza with the clinical interest of a predator. He had seen Luvia’s construction crew hovering around the nature site. He knew Luvia wanted that land. And now, here was the girl from the cabin, sitting alone in a dive bar, drowning her sorrows.
"Interesting," the rival whispered, signaled to his associates. "The girl is out of her cage."
Chapter 3: The Convergence
Back at the cabin, Luvia stood on the porch, looking at the tire tracks leading away from the property. She pulled out her phone. She didn't call the police. She didn't call her office.
She called a number that wasn't saved in her contacts.
"Find her," Luvia said. No greeting was necessary. "She’s in the city. Look for the places where people go to forget who they are."
She hung up and looked back at the forest. This land was hers. The contract was signed. But as she thought about the overturned chair and the "sweet girl" who had screamed at the world, Luvia felt a flicker of something she hadn't felt in years. Curiosity.
Luvia knew what it was like to hate the world. She knew what it was like to have a father you wanted to erase from your memory. She knew that when a "sweet" person breaks, they become the most dangerous person in the room.
She got back into her car and turned the ignition. The engine hummed—a low, predatory growl.
"Don't worry, Eliza," Luvia murmured as she shifted into gear. "I'm coming to bring you back. But not because of the land."
The hunt had begun. Not a hunt of malice, but a hunt of recognition. The powerful woman with the terrifying aura was heading toward the neon lights, toward the bar, and toward the rival who had no idea what kind of hell he was about to invite into his life.
The storm in the forest was over. The storm in the city was just beginning.
- Writer
