ELEANOR'S POV
The knock on the foster home door wasn't rushed or aggressive. it was the kind that knew it didn't need permission. I sat on the edge of my bed,one leg bouncing nervously.
The absence of Jodie making the room feel twice as empty. The old woman answered it with her usual frown, but I could hear the shift in her voice.
"Eleanor!!!," she called.
I stood, the hairs on my arms rising. I hadn't had a visitor since... ever. My steps toward the door were slow, cautious, like I might walk into a dream that would vanish the moment I blinked.
And then I saw her.
"Aunt Riley?"
Her mascara was smudged, her lipstick too red and too crooked. She gave me a weak smile and opened her arms.
"You've grown," she said.
I didn't move at first. I just stared. She looked like someone who hadn't slept. Like grief and disappointment had packed bags beneath her eyes. But she was here.
"You're here," I whispered.
"Of course I'm here, baby." Her arms closed around me. "I should've come sooner. I just... I didn't know how to face you."
"It's fine Aunt Riley" I assured her.
She smelled of lavender and cigarettes, comfort and chaos.
We sat in the common room later, across from each other.
"He left," she said, lighting a cigarette right under the no-smoking sign.
"Just up and left. For some woman named Clarissa. You believe that? Gave her the house at Arizina, the car, everything. Didn't even fight for me."
I didn't know what to say. I just listened.
"But it's fine," she continued. "He left me, but he left me a wake-up call, too. I can't leave you in this place anymore. Not after everything that's happened. You're coming with me."
And just like that I found myself packing the few things I had. I wouldn't say I felt relieved to leave but I knew my life would be meaningless if I remained in this foster shit whole.
Her house still looked much like I remembered. A two-bedroom
flat on the west side, where the walls peeled and the floor creaked. But it had windows that let the light in, and it didn't smell like disinfectant and
regret.
"You remember the way to your room, right, Eleanor?" Aunt Riley asked, closing the door behind us with a soft click.
"Yeah, I remember," I replied, already making my way upstairs. I nudged open the familiar door with my foot and stepped inside. The moment I did, a wave of musty stillness hit me.
"This place is a sad mess," I muttered, dropping my luggage to the floor with a dull thud.
I walked back downstairs, finding Aunt Riley in the kitchen with a steaming cup of tea in her hand.
"Hey, do you have anything I could use to clean up the room?" I asked, brushing a stray strand behind my ear.
She looked up, slightly surprised. "Still the neat freak,
huh?" she teased, setting her cup down.
"Check under the sink,there should be some cleaning supplies there. If not, there's more in the garage."
"Got it. Thanks," I said, already heading toward the cabinet.
"Don't scrub the walls down or anything," she added with a small smile. "It's not a crime scene."
I smirked. "Could've fooled me."
After cleaning up, I finally allowed myself to rest. There was an old wardrobe in the corner, and I folded the few clothes I had neatly into it. Once everything was in place, I lay back on the bed and before I knew it, sleep pulled me under.
For a while, we tried. She brought me food, sometimes even flowers. We watched reruns and talked about the kind of girl I used to be. Asked about boys, dating and stuff but never asked what happened that night,not really. I think she knew better.
But then, her grief started to shift. She stopped getting out of bed. Bills piled on the counter. Her phone rang and rang and she ignored it all.But I didn't resent or judge her for it, she was dealing with a lot mentally. Honestly, we all were.
Then one morning, I woke up to find a note on the fridge:
>Elle, I need to go. I can't stay in this city anymore. There's a job in Oregon. I left the keys,the lease is in my name but I paid up for 6 months. The fridge is full. Don't hate me. Find your way,Love you always ...
Riley.
Just like that, she was gone.
I stood there, holding the keys to a house that wasn't mine,
in a life that wasn't meant to be permanent. No supervision. No expectations.
Just... space.
A place that felt halfway between ruin and rebirth.
I needed to find a job. I was already eighteen, and at this point, I didn't care what kind of work it was. College? That felt like a
distant dream I couldn't afford. But maybe if I could just start earning something… maybe then I'd feel a little less stuck. A little more in control.
The next morning, I woke up with a mission pulsing in my veins.
Job. Any job.
I didn't have a perfect résumé or even the right clothes, but I had determination and maybe that counted for something. I threw on the best outfit I could put together: a black tee, the only pair of clean jeans I
had, and a denim jacket that had seen better days. My hair was pulled into a loose ponytail, and I dabbed on a little lip balm just enough to feel less invisible.
Grabbing a small folder of printed résumés Jodie helped me make weeks ago, I stepped out into the city's heartbeat. The air smelled like hot concrete and burnt coffee like ambition and tired dreams.
I walked into diners, bookstores, corner shops, asking the same question over and over with a nervous smile:
"Hi, are you hiring?"
Most places weren't. Some barely looked at me. Others smiled politely and shook their heads. My feet ached. My stomach was grumbling. But I kept going, because what other choice did I have?
Then I stumbled into a place I hadn't even planned on...Vin's Espresso Bar.
It had big windows, jazz playing softly, and the bitter-sweet scent of roasted beans. A woman behind the counter looked up as I walked in.
"You lost?" she asked, raising a brow.
"Actually... looking for work," I said, stepping forward and handing her my résumé before I could talk myself out of it. "I'll do anything...dishes,
sweeping, coffee runs. I'm a fast learner."
She looked at the paper, then at me. Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
"You ever used an espresso machine?"
"No, ma'am. But I can learn. Quickly."
She gave a half-smile and called out to the back. "Vin! Get out here."
A young man emerged, he looked like he was in his mid 20's. Wiping his hands on a towel, he looked like he'd been up since dawn. After a short,casual interrogation, "what's your name, how desperate are you, can you handle rude customers..." he said the words I'd been chasing all day:
"You can start tomorrow. 6 a.m. Don't be late."
I blinked. "Wait...really?"
Vin smirked. "Unless you change your mind?"
"Never," I said, trying not to grin too hard.
As I walked out of Vin's Espresso Bar, I felt lighter. Tired, yes but a little more whole than I had in weeks. I had a job. It wasn't much, but it was mine. A start.
And maybe, just maybe that was enough for now.
I was halfway down the block when I felt it...that unmistakable prickle on the back of my neck.
Someone was watching me.
I glanced behind, subtly. A black car sat idling at the curb a few buildings down. The windows were tinted. Too tinted. I turned forward again and quickened my steps, my heart thudding faster than it should.
Maybe it was nothing.
But when I reached the next corner and glanced back again…
The car was gone.