Page 49 of Evil Hearts

Gateway to Haven

by B.D. Brown

Chapter One

Istare at theclock above the counter of the tiny coffee shop, the second hand mocking me as it ticks forward with agonizing slowness. Rain patters against the stained glass ceiling of the mall, echoing around me in the empty halls. My hands, trained to move mechanically, wipe down the already spotless counter for the third time in the last twenty minutes. The stale scent of espresso lingers in the air, mingling with the ever-present smell of despair that seems to hang over the empty mall like a fog.

How has it only been thirty seconds since the last time I looked? I groan, turning my back to the offending machine.

This mall used to be a bustling place where people came to shop, to meet, and to live out their little moments of consumer joy. But, with the online shopping movement changing the playing field, stores are closing left and right. Their windows are covered in dust, their signs hanging dim and forgotten. The only traffic comes from the handful of souls wandering through the atrium, getting in their exercise in the colder months, or needing a place to wait out the end of their miserable days.

I’ve been stuck in this coffee shop for two years now. Two long, repetitive years spent behind the counter, watching the world pass me by. It’s a sanctuary for wanderers like myself,who are lost in the world and confused about where they should be headed. I’m not even sure how I ended up here, myself. My mother always said I have a wandering soul, a whisper in the breeze, hard to hold on to.

I had big dreams, filled with travel and adventure. Stories that didn’t begin and end behind the same four walls. I could trek through jungles, explore lost cities, or maybe even climb vast mountains.

That was before my mother died. The only light in my dim world, ripped from me by a drunk driver.

Now, I’m stuck in this endless loop of fixing lattes for indifferent teenagers and mall walkers, staring at the same gray walls every shift. “Sip happens, Coffee fixes” in faded paint mocks me almost as much as the clock, all because I’m too scared to move on without my mother by my side.

I curse under my breath as I glance at the clock. A full five minutes have passed since the last time I checked. Only an hour and thirteen minutes until the mall closes, and my shift officially ends. Only an hour and thirteen minutes until I can escape to the quiet, pixelated world of Haven’s Edge, the video game being my only real adventure these days.

My fingers graze the rim of my coffee cup, the warmth almost comforting in the vast emptiness around me. Janie, our opener, called in sick today. Though the giggling in the background of her call told a different story, her being deathly ill left me manning the opening and closing shift all by myself. With barely anyone to serve, and even less to talk to, my only real conversation had been with Tim, the old mall security guard.

Did he spend the last thirty minutes complaining about the kids in the arcade? Yes. But at least I had a real person to talk to. Tim’s a part of the landscape as much as I am now, just another fixture in this half-forgotten place. But he makes sure to stop in and check on me every time I work. If I had a grandpa, I think hewould have been a lot like Tim. He may seem grouchy when you look at him, his mustache bouncing with each angry breath, but he’s really just a teddy bear trying to keep everyone safe.

It had only been Mom and I growing up, bouncing from run-down apartment to run-down apartment. Mom worked three jobs to make ends meet, and while she wasn’t always present, she always made sure to make life magical when she was.

Once, when I was maybe five, and home sick with chickenpox, she cut a bunch of stars into some cardboard she found outside. She tucked the holy cardboard into the roof of a blanket fort, and with some flashlights, told me stories about galaxies far away.

My eyes shift toward the glass doors of the mall, the path to salvation. The sky has long since faded from blue to a nasty gray color, and the drizzle of rain smudges the world outside. It’s so close, it would be easy to walk out and leave. Yet, so unobtainable. The thought of daring adventures has been tainted by the loss of my mother. It feels like a life that belongs to someone else. Someone who had the guts to leave behind all of the safe and familiar things.

Like I’d once dreamed of doing.

But now, I’m stuck. Stuck in a place that has no future, a job that has no excitement, and a life that feels as if it’s stuck in an endless loop. Like a video game that I can’t pause.

My fingers move over the counter mindlessly. Another hour. I’ll go home, throw my work clothes into the hamper, and put on my footy pjs. Then I’ll start up my computer and play Haven’s Edge until it’s impossible to keep my eyes open. There, I can explore different worlds, fight monsters, and save the good guys. I’m on my last major quest before next week’s expansion, and I’m so close to finding the missing Orc Innkeeper.

In the Dark Forest of Devilwood, there is no waiting. No clock ticking down. There is only adventure.

In Haven’s Edge, I have a purpose. I don’t just fill the hours with mindlessness like I do here. I live life to its fullest, saving kingdoms, leading troops into battle, and rescuing innocents. My character is someone I can be proud of. Yet, every morning I wake up, and put on my apron. The person staring back at me in the mirror is a shell of my previous self. A self who wasn’t filled with sorrow. Wasn’t missing a vital part of their soul.

A voice breaks through the ever-present melancholy and I sigh.

“Hey, you’re still here?”

I blink, clearing my mind enough to notice Tim, the security guard, standing in front of the counter. His thick, gray eyebrows are raised, eyes filled with concern. Shit. How long have I been staring out into space? I risk a glance at the clock, scowling when I see I’ve only wasted another five minutes.

”Yeah. Same as always.” I force a smile, trying to shake off the exhaustion he can no doubt hear filling my voice. “Just another day.”

”You know,” Tim says, leaning on the counter. His voice lowers as he glances around conspiratorially, “I don’t think this place is going to last much longer. It’s been fading for years now.”

I snort softly, lowering my voice to match his. “You don’t say?”

“I mean, we all know it. It’s time we all admit it. The owners don’t care. Last I heard, they were thinkin’ to sell it back to the city for housing development. The workers care even less. They come for their shifts and leave as quickly as they can. Most don’t keep the jobs for more than a week or two.” He shakes his head, glancing around the empty space fondly. “It’s dying a slow death, but it is dying. We’re the last ones here, Katie. Just you, me, and the ghosts of this place.”

The words hang in the air between us, causing bile to rise in my throat. I stare past him, my eyes drawn to the fading lights in the food court and the vacant kiosks with their empty signs. I can almost hear the laughter of a child, from years ago, runningthrough the halls, urging her mom forward quicker. If she just hurries, she would be able to play for as long as mommy was home. Mommy was never home. The laughter fades away, like a memory I can’t quite grasp.

Everything always fades away.

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