Beautiful Villain

I’m not certain of anything at all, but I reach for the door handle and I pull it.

Then I get out of the car.

Chapter Nine

Finley

Something seems to change in the air. I can’t quite explain the feeling or the emotion that’s coursing through my veins, but it’s not anything good.

I never thought I’d see this place again.

Now that I’m here, I’m even less sure.

“This is where it happened,” he says, walking toward the grated door that leads down to the mine.

“Outside?” I ask.

“Inside,” he says.

“Then let’s go in.”

I’m not sure if he’s ready for that.

I mean, I’m not sure if I’m ready for it, either. Somehow, I feel like we both need this, though. We both need to get this closure so we can start moving forward with whatever comes next.

I grab a couple of flashlights from the trunk of my car and flick them on. Luckily, they still work. The batteries seem strong. I should have tested them out before we drove out here, but honestly, I was so distracted by Neil that I didn’t even think to do it.

“Let’s go.”

We head to the door. This one has a rusty lock on it, too, but Neil is a man of many surprises, and of course, he has a key. He manages to get the lock to open, but just barely.

“I’m just glad you didn’t have to break the lock,” I tell him.

“With what?” He shakes his head. “I mean, my hands are strong, but not that strong.”

“I have a crowbar in my trunk,” I shrug.

“Planning on kidnapping someone?” He asks curiously.

“Not today.”

He goes first, stepping into the old mine, and the scent of mold and dirt wraps around us. There’s dust in the air and everything feels…strange.

It feels abandoned.

There’s a certain heaviness in the air, as though the mine knows what happened here so long ago, but it just doesn’t care. I suppose that’s probably the worst thing about all of this: there’s no way to make sure that the memories of the past don’t leer their ugly heads and pull us under water.

We step forward. I have to duck down a little because the opening to the mine is a bit narrow and the ceiling is very low. We walk at a downward slope, moving carefully into the mine. We’re both quiet, lost in our own thoughts, but finally, the entryway opens up to a larger space, and then we’re there inside the mines.

“Not much left here,” he murmurs.

“Is this how you remember it?”

“Exactly.”

“I’ve never been down here before,” I admit.

“Good. Nothing good ever came from being down here,” he tells me.