Page 7 of The Hellkeeper

I swallow hard, possessiveness clawing at my throat.

No. I won’t leave. Instead, I crouch down, pressing my hands to the cold floor, and slide under the bed. The wood creaks at my weight, but she doesn’t wake. The curve of her arm dangles over the edge, close enough to touch.

I clench my fists to stop myself.

I close my eyes.

And I wait.

Chapter Four

Amelia

It’s been a week.

A week since I walked away from my village. A week since I chose myself over them. It was a selfish decision, but I just can’t bring myself to regret it.

But that also means it’s been a week since someone else took my place. There’s no way the ritual stopped just because I ran. They must have chosen another girl.

The thought curls around my throat like it’s going to choke me from the inside out, but I shove it down. Guilt won’t bring her back, whoever she was. Whoever they decided was next.

My hands press into the dough, fingers kneading, pushing, stretching. Margaret works alongside me, seasoning some chicken breasts. Her presence is warm. She doesn’t hover or scold me when I make mistakes. She lets me learn at my own pace.

Not like them.

Not like the village where every mistake I ever made was broadcast and shamed. Margaret isn’t like that. She’s been nothing but kind. Accepting.

Guilt rears its ugly head again. I left them behind. And because of that, someone else was sacrificed.No.Stop. I can’t think like that. I had to leave. I had to. What was I supposed to do? Offer myself to the monster that has terrorized my village for years?

My fingers dig too hard into the dough, and Margaret hums at me, as if telling me to get out of my own head. I let out a breath, easing my grip, smoothing the surface again.

The restaurant has changed since I started working here. The air isn’t as stale. The tables don’t wobble like they used to; courtesy of me tightening the screws. The menu is wider, with some dishes from back home. It’s cleaner, fresher.

Better, if I may say so myself.

Margaret told me yesterday that before I came along, she barely got a customer or two. That people passed this place by without a second glance, but now, business is picking up. I don’t know why that makes something warm settle in my chest. I shouldn’t feel like I belong here. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

The bell above the door chimes. A man walks in, and I immediately move to serve him. He makes his way to a table without looking at his path once, his eyes glued to the small glowing square in his hand. A smartphone. I only recently learned what they were called. My little village is so behind on these inventions, it should be illegal.

He smacks his gum loudly, making my skin crawl. It doesn’t get better when he finally speaks; he still doesn’t even glance my way.

"Yeah, uh… burger. No pickles. Fries. Coke.” He snaps his fingers at me. "And hurry it up."

“Of course, sir.”

He doesn’t acknowledge me. Just keeps tapping at his phone. I glimpse Margaret watching from behind the counter with a frown.

I rush to prepare the order, making sure everything is exactly as he asked. I double-check. Triple-check. Finally, I carry the tray to his table.

“Enjoy,” I say softly as I set his food down.

For the first time, he actually looks at me, but he glares like I’m an annoying fly that won’t stop buzzing in his ear.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

“Sir?”

He shoves the plate forward, knocking over his drink. "I said no pickles."

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