Page 2 of Haunted Prey

I stood there for a long moment before returning to my seat, turning back to the window.

Severfalls. I remembered hearing about it before and it was hard to believe I was here. This was only the first night, but I’d seen much already. And learned more of what I already knew.

It was an old mansion-turned-sanitorium in the twenties. Then, eventually, into a mental health facility many years later with an added addition at the back. It wasn’t like St. Agnes. Only special cases were treated here. Famous people who didn’t want to be seen at a regular facility. Or the highly regarded groups who had a “disturbed” family member they wanted out of the limelight.

Then there were others like me, trauma victims who had gone through intense ordeals. Kidnapped politicians’ daughters, high-profile family murder survivors, cult victims from elite families, and the occasional nationwide sensations like yours truly.

Severfalls was a recovery ward for the rich and famous. But they conducted special studies here too. At least according to Jackie. Only, she wouldn’t go into detail as to what.

Despite what I’d been told, I’d seen very little of the other patients. Most of my time had been spent in the medical wing where they performed various exams, to see if I had any physical or internal injuries due to myhorrifying ordeal at the hands of a psychopath. Scans, blood tests, head trauma, organ trauma, vaginal exams. The nurses remarked on some internal bruising and asked me if I wanted to have a rape kit done, but I refused because I hadn’t been raped. They were confused but didn’t pry, probably thinking I had been Stockholm'd just like Liam had said.

When they finally released me, I was taken to the recovery ward. I met Nurse Jackie who was the head caretaker; and a man named Leo, who was tall and lanky, with dark, intelligent eyes. My therapist. He seemed cool-headed, with a suave demeanor like Tyler. A session was scheduled with him the next day even though I didn’t need it.

“I thought I was leaving after the exams,” I had said to Nurse Jackie.

She’d glanced at Leo before smiling at me. “No, sweetheart, not just yet. They want you to stay, maybe just for a night or two to make sure you are stable.”

For whatever reason, I hadn’t argued. What did it matter? I had no real home. My apartment was temporary and would feel too empty now. Uncle Wes’ never felt like home. My childhood home was full of painful memories.

So, I stayed.

They showed me the grounds—the pretty gardens, the pools, the spas, the gym, the lounges with TV and sound system and all the streaming services. In the front lobby, before the stairs, was an entrance hall with an art gallery, and at one end, were conference rooms and a banquet room which looked out to a back courtyard that sat between the recovery ward and the medical center.

Impressive. Yet, I hardly gave a shit.

The one thing I did notice was how empty it was, how few people we encountered.

The people I did see were other women, of different ages, walking the gardens or halls. One in particular was a young girl, maybe even younger than me, bright blond hair and brown eyes. She was reading in one of the sun rooms and smiled at me as we passed.

All the women appeared fine, happy even. They were all different sizes, race, and age groups—but most were young. Nothing seemed off about them, except that they were pregnant.

Big bellies. Almost close to delivery. They were content, a little dazed even, as if they couldn’t believe where they were.

Nurse Jackie waved to them as we passed. She talked about how Kennedy was renovating some rooms and expanding the medical facility even more.

“They are going to have a reveal party here in a month or so,” Jackie had said. “For the new expansion.”

Tyler had mentioned that to me earlier on when he first brought me in. Mr. Foley had left to return to the Martel company and let my uncle know I was okay. Tyler had stuck around for the initial tests, to ease my concerns, then he, too, had left to check in on the work, promising he would visit soon.

If I had an ounce of fuck to give, maybe I would have asked more questions, had been more curious, more aware. But I wasn’t in the right state of mind, too shocked, too numbed out to care much about anything. Definitely not right now. I was still reeling from earlier in the morning, still trying to come to terms with my new reality. Of not being next to Emery on my dad’s boat in Lake Huron by now. Unable to accept that he was gone. Trying to find some way to believe there was the smallest possibility that he survived, but losing out on that hope.

Emery was strong, stronger than any regular man. But he took several gunshots and fell into the icy dark of the river, into a current that moved fast, carrying even the strongest under.

Under…under…and away.

Even if he did get to the shore, I could only imagine he would have bled out before he could get himself to a hospital. There were too many factors, too many scenarios stacked against him.

The only hope left was that I hadn’t seen his body. But surely in a few days, it would wash up somewhere, and I’d hear about it or see it online somewhere.

And that would destroy me even more.

I couldn’t accept that he was gone. I couldn’t.

But the dread of reality was there, killing me slowly.

When they had finished the tour, they’d brought me to the cafeteria and given me something to eat—food I didn’t touch. With the meal, they provided a cup of water and a smaller cup with a pink pill.

“What’s that?” I had asked, suspicious.

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