Chapter Text
My eyes fly open, and I feel my cold and damp camisole clinging to my skin. The first few beams of light flutter across the horizon, going directly into my eyes, and so I instinctively shield them. The floorboards creek underfoot as I slowly pad towards the window, closing the blinds, and then glance over at the alarm clock. Another ridiculously early start, to what feels like the same day in and out. My hands are still violently shaking, much like how I am unable to shake that god forsaken curse.
I sink back onto the mattress, elbows on my knees, burying my face in my hands after rubbing the remaining traces of sleep from my eyes. The idea of rest calls to me, but I simply cannot waste an opportunity like this. Every moment I am not getting away is a waste. My head is throbbing, and so I reach into my bag and rummage around the countless tabs of medication, looking for some paracetamol. Once it is taken, I launch into life, and get ready for the day. I look over to the kettle, and to the tea and coffee options. The thought of having a hot drink seemed tempting, but I have ground to cover and it needs to be covered quickly. I quickly get ready, and return the hotel room to how I found it, before dropping off the key. I then get into my car, and then turn the ignition on. It's going to be a long drive, and the further I can get the distance between them and I the better.
The engine in my car rumbles into life when I turn the ignition. I begin to pull out the parking bays and onto the street, performing the necessary blind spot checks. I adjust my rear view mirror, peaking a glimpse of myself whilst I am at it. It takes me a moment to recognize myself, but it's been a long time since I have truly been the woman I once was. My cheeks look sunken in, and my eyebags are reminiscent of the black of a panda's eyes. The horrors persist, and so I shall too.
The roads and motorways slowly blur together, after all, there was no end goal, only a need for as much distance away from the past that haunts me, and myself. I stop occasionally to change what CD I am listening to. When my trusty Golf MK4’s fuel light illuminates, I pull into the nearest petrol station. I can't shake the sensation of being watched, but the break was long overdue. I get out of the car, and fill her fuel up. I feel my gut instincts screaming at me to run, to get away, but I ignore the urges to leave. Not without paying anyways. Whilst I'm there, I treat myself to breakfast - a can of monster, a meat skewer and a sandwich. I'll figure lunch and dinner out later, now is time to go.
By the end of the day, I am frankly exhausted. I found a cheap hotel, and parked up for the night. I am running out of funds, and so the running may have to stop. It's been over a week now, if they're attempting to find me they'll be running in literal circles, and so I should be fine. I walk around the block, and find a cheerful corner shop. It may not be fine dining, but it'll surely have something for dinner. I make my way inside, and buy a bag of crisps, a pot noodle, and a pack of hot and spicy meatballs. Its a questionable “meal” at best, but it'll do.
I pull my laptop out of my bag, and sit on the bed. I spend the next few hours searching for a room to rent, and it isn't before long that I am able to find one. Going off the google reviews, it is a complete and utter shithole, but the rent is cheap and the living is easy.
A few days later, after what feels like endless paperwork and references, I'm handed a set of keys. I was right - this place is a complete and utter shithole, but it works. The ceilings have large brown water stains and discoloration, and the paint is peeling and bubbling. The plastering has cracks all over it, and black mould is creeping over the ceilings. It is at the worst in the bathrooms, above the showers. The kitchen is functional for the most part - the sides are dirty and worn, cabinet doors are missing or detached and the floor looks heavily scuffed and stained. It's going to take a lot of time to get this place liveable, but I'm here for the foreseeable future, and it will eventually become my home if I am unable to move elsewhere.
Moving in was the hardest part. Packing my world into my car was hard enough, but getting it out was an entirely different ballgame. I had just about managed to carry two boxes in, and was currently lugging a suitcase out of my car when the front door swung open. A vaguely familiar face held the door open for me, "I'm guessing you're the one who moved in opposite me,” they smile, “if i had known you were trying to get your things up I would have been here earlier”
“I'm fine, these are just heavier than I remember them being” I chuckle. “Being as you are my neighbour, it is a pleasure to meet you, I think I've seen you about?”
They nod, and pick up one of the bags in my car.
“I'm Quentin, by the way” they say, as we begin the ascent up the stairs.
“Estelle,” I replied, trying not to drop my suitcase.
We both make fast work of bringing my things into my flat, occasionally stopping to talk and to take a break.
“Being as you've not been able to unpack, do you want to come around mine for dinner? I'm having kimchi fried rice, there will be plenty to go around.” Quentin asks once we have finished.
I took up the offer, and came in. Their flat smelled amazing - the smell of incense and herbs hung heavy in the air. Dinner was incredibly refreshing on a hot summer night like this had been. They also had the sweetest dog - Mavis, who showed nothing but love and loved playing catch with me, even if it was limited to rolling the ball across the floor due to being inside. When it is time to say goodbye and goodnight, I leave, giving Mavis one last fuss. I cross the hall, and then go back into my dingy flat. I then lay in bed and curl up with my teddies now that I am finally able to. I open my favourite book - Skin by Liam Brown - and read until my eyes are too heavy to keep themselves open.
When I wake, I pay a couple months of rent, and within that time I really need to find a job. It's yet another endless cycle of looking indeed, and reaching dead ends. Most jobs on Indeed these days are for the army, and lord knows I would rather shit on my hands and clap than work for them. I give up searching online, and instead start looking around in person. Unsurprisingly, there isn't much in person either, but I eventually find a small little café that is hiring. I almost walked past it at first, before I clock the “staff wanted” sign. I saw it as a sign - I turned back on myself and walked in. I handed over my CV, and prayed that I got the job. It's not much over the living wage, but it's full time hours and it keeps a roof over my head until I can figure out what to do with myself.
By evening, I had gotten enough pantry staples to get by, and had visited the food bank. Money is tight, and after all, they are there to help those who are in need. Though there was someone rather unusual volunteering there. He was in a black cassock - he must have been from the local church - though he wore an unusual crucifix. Despite my childhood, I had never seen anything like it before. It was like St Peter’s cross, and yet it had a G in the middle of it? It would be something that needed looking into at a later date. I also received some of the best news possible - I had gotten the job. I had to restrain myself from crying in the middle of the street once I had received that news. Things were finally looking up, the hope filled me with warmth like no other.
Work took some adjusting to, but I quickly learned the names and orders of the regulars. Day in, day out, it's the same routine, which quickly became a comfortable normal. Morning rushes were always hellish, though the customers always looked as exhausted with their early start as I felt with my own. The breakfast foods we offer are quick and simple to prepare, as are all our pastries and cakes. Amongst the familiar faces, there came new ones too, and Quentin went from a new face there to a familiar one incredibly quickly. Every time I had an opening, they would come in for a coffee just before I ended my shift, and then we would walk Mavis after my opening shift.
Our walks took us past the local cathedral, though it always struck me as unusual. The stained glass wasn't like anything I had ever seen before - it was incredibly Luciferian. Lucifer took the centre piece, and Azazel, Asmodeus, Mammon, Belial, Beelzebub and Abaddon surrounded him, all engaging in their respective sins. It was strange, seeing them displayed so openly. After everything I had grown up around, and the time before, these beings belonged to things that should never be spoken aloud, let alone immortalised in stained glass. I recognised Lucifer immediately. The others took longer to recognize, though they were all familiar to me. I had known their names long before I ever knew the word of Christ. For as long as I can remember, there has always been some form of name calling, or comparison. One specific incident came to mind. I must have been about ten at the time, and yet again I had woken up screaming due to the same nightmare that has been plaguing me for as long as I can remember. The dream had been the same as always—though at that age, I had no understanding of what I was seeing. I had woken up due to my own screams. The nun who was overseeing us that night sat on the edge of my bed and tried to calm me down, but I couldn't explain what I'd seen. I didn't have the words for it. All I could tell her was that there had been a priest, and that I was frightened of him, and felt sick with the sense of betrayal. Of course she had assumed it was our priest, and when she spoke of it to him, the word spread like a wildfire. They thought I had been possessed by the devil himself, and that the nightmares were visions sent to me by him to pervert my mind and open it to him, so that one day I could carry the antichrist. The comparisons to them all started then, and didn't stop until I had run from the church as an adult. I was already pushed out and isolated for questioning my faith, even by the other children, and every nightmare gave them another reason to compare me to one of them.
“Estelle? Are you ok?” Quentin asks, snapping me back to reality.
“Hmm? Yeah, I'm fine…” my voice trails off, “just lost in my own thoughts for a moment there”
I offer a weak smile and continue walking.
They don't ask what I was thinking about, which I'm grateful for. I've grown accustomed to people asking questions they have no business knowing the answers to. Questions that start innocent enough, only to become accusations once they don't like what I tell them. Quentin, however, seems content to let the silence sit between us. It's not that I don't trust them - I do - it's just a long, heavy, and complicated conversation, and it's one I would rather not have. The less he knew about that, the better.Mavis trots happily alongside us, stopping every few metres to investigate something that has apparently captured her attention. She barks at a few squirrels, and goes and collects the stick we had been playing fetch with.
“So,” Quentin says eventually, “you settling in alright?”
I glance at them.
“Define alright.”
They laugh.
“Fair enough.”
I look back towards the cathedral. We've almost gone through the churchyard, but I can still see the stained glass between the trees, and the looming bell tower peaking over the tops of them.
“I suppose it's alright,” I say. “The flat is a shithole, but it's mine. Work's alright. The people seem nice enough.”
“And me?”
I raise an eyebrow.
“You're alright.”
“Just alright?”
“Don't push your luck.”
He laughs again, and despite myself and the looming heaviness of the reminder of what was a terrible start to life, I find the corners of my mouth lifting.
"In all seriousness though, you've been amazing. Thank you so much for helping me with everything, it's nice to finally have a friend."
The rest of the walk goes as per usual, the majority of it spent in a comfortable silence. Mavis was being her usual self, playing and scampering alongside us. The sky gradually darkens to a deep grey, and we decide to turn back towards home before the weather has a chance to worsen. However it was too little too late. On our walk back, the heavens opened and the rain started to pour down onto us. It could have been much worse, though that doesn't stop us from being completely soaked through by the time we reach the front door.
I take it as a sign to have a hot shower. The ceiling was looking better for the most part - black mould remover always comes in clutch. The shower washes away the tension in my shoulders, and any sense of dread the reminder of my childhood gave me. The storm rages outside until the next morning, though just because it wasn't storming, that doesn't mean the weather wasn't completely and utterly miserable. It was almost like a reflection upon my mood, and the pathetic fallacy certainly made me feel pathetic. For seemingly no reason whatsoever, I was past the point of exhaustion, both physically and mentally. I had been on autopilot all morning, until the most unusual familiar face came in.
His suit was white, though they were very different undertones. His jacket was sharply tailored, made of suiting fabric down his middle, with an almost bolero of crocodile leather. It is a very creamy white, almost leaning yellow under the shop's warm lighting. His trousers are pure white, and entirely too tight. They leave very little to the imagination. He is also wearing a pair of black gloves with the mysterious G crucifix as well as a wide-brimmed black hat sat low upon his head, which he takes off as he steps in, revealing his face.
He had dark rings around his eyes, not entirely different to the rings around a panda's eyes. His eyes are two different colours, with one being the most gorgeous hazel green, and the other being white. He has sideburns running across his cheeks, almost contouring his face, and a parted pencil moustache. His top lip is painted black, and it must have been set with some form of shadow due to the lack of smudging onto his lower lip. He had clearly been spending a lot of time in the sun - freckles littered across his face and his olive toned skin was taking on a slightly bronze hue.
He glanced up at the menu, contemplating his options for a moment.
"Could I have a latte, please?"
"Of course, what size would you like? And would you like to sit in, or take it away?"
He hesitated.
"A medium please, and can I sit in?"
I reached for a cup. "Of course, anything else?"
"Yes, actually. Could you make it a children's temperature?"
I stopped for a moment, my eyebrows furrowing together.
"A children's temperature?"
His cheeks flush slightly.
"Yes. Please."
"So... warm, but not hot?"
"If at all possible, yes"
"of course, should I put half steamed milk and half straight from the bottle?"
"that would be perfect"
"So one kid's temp latte, is that all for you today?"
"Could I have a pain au chocolate please?"
"of course, that will be £10 please, when its ready I will bring it over”
And with that, I started brewing the latte - pulling two espresso shots and steaming half the milk. I assemble it, and reheat the pain au chocolate. I put it on a plate and brought it over to him, putting it and the latte onto the table.
"You're new here, aren't you?" I ask. After all, he was the only customer at the time, and out of the hundreds of customers I see day in and day out, he had never been here before.
"Is it that obvious?"
"What about you?"
"Me?"
"You seem to know the area."
"I moved here recently. How about you?"
He pauses for a moment, contemplating what he wants to say.
"I've been here a little while. Not terribly long, though."
"So we're both new, then?"
"I suppose we are."
He gives me a small smile before taking another sip of his latte.
"What brought you here?"
It is my turn to take a pause and think about what I want to say.
"I needed a change, and I had a big falling out with my parents. We, uh... didn't exactly see eye to eye on everything"
He nods slowly.
“Family can be difficult.”
“That's one way of putting it.”
His mouth twitches into a small smile.
“I won't ask.”
"how about you then, what brings you here?"
He pauses, his fingers idly tracing the rim of his cup.
“Work, mostly. I've moved around quite a bit because of it.”
“What do you do?”
He hesitates.
“I work for a religious organisation.”
I raise an eyebrow.
“Are you a priest?”
“No, no. Nothing quite like that.”
“Then what do you do?”
“I do administrative work, mostly.”
"That makes sense, I suppose you're here to do the admin for your organization here"
He nods, taking another sip from his latte.
“So what have you found so far?”
“Found?”
“Things worth doing. Places worth going. Anything that makes you think coming here wasn't a terrible decision outside of work purposes.”
He thinks about it.
“I've found this café.”
I stare at him, my eyebrow raising once more.
“You've been here for five minutes.”
“And already I have found the best coffee in town.”
“You haven't tried anywhere else.”
“I don't need to.”
I feel my cheeks flush, and a smile forms on my face.
"im glad you're enjoying the coffee here, I'm guessing you're going to be here a lot then” I smile. “Im here most days, though I don't always work an opening shift, it's the same week to week though”
He seems to consider this for a moment, before a small smile spreads across his face.
“Then I suppose I'll have to find out when you're working.”
“You'll have to.”
I smile. “I’m Estelle, by the way”
He holds out his gloved hand.
“Copia.”
I shake it.
“Nice to meet you, Copia.”
“Likewise, Estelle.”
We continue to chat, until he finishes his food, and latte, and before he leaves we exchange numbers. Without his company, the remainder of the shift drags on. Quenin sent me a message saying that they were not feeling well, and so they were unable to walk Mavis with me. I take the slow route home, stopping in the food bank yet again, and then stopping in the shop to get a few more bits that I need.
When I get home, I put all my shopping away and then pull on my pyjamas. Dinner is quick and simple, as I can feel the weight of the world weighing heavy on my eyelids. I curl up in bed, reach for my laptop and put on a movie. I watch Avengers for what feels like the millionth time, though my mind wanders throughout the movie, often drifting to Copia. He seemed kind, and funny, but I couldn't help but have a bad gut feeling. There was something about him that had made talking to him feel easy, but could I trust him? I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was missing something. And, despite myself, I found myself wondering when I would see him again.