They Think I’m Easy Prey—but My Words Manifest into Reality Chapter 10

They Think I’m Easy Prey—but My Words Manifest into Reality Chapter 10

Two years later.

I used the money I’d saved to open a small diner in the middle of downtown. Two floors. Cozy booths. Good coffee.

Penny’s my manager. She can’t lift heavy trays with her right hand anymore, but she can run the register and balance the books faster than anyone I’ve ever met.

The Harringtons never showed their faces again.

I heard through the grapevine that my father couldn’t handle the stress of losing everything. He had a massive stroke. He’s bedridden now. Needs round-the-clock care he can’t afford.

My mother spends her days picking through the wilted produce left out back of the grocery store. Anything to get by.

They still tell anyone who’ll listen that their own daughter was a heartless monster who abandoned them. But the people around here remember the news stories. They just spit on the ground and keep walking.

I don’t think about them anymore. Not their lives. Not their deaths,

Because I’d figured something out. My words didn’t just have to bring pain. They could heal.

When the hate was gone from my heart, the curse became something else. It was like a wishing well that always paid out.

One of the college kids who works the evening shift was crying in the back alley. Someone had lifted her wallet. Her rent money. Her meal card. Everything.

I handed her a napkin. “Don’t cry,” I told her. “The guy who took it? He’s gonna trip and break his leg. Cops’ll find him. And your ID.”

Thirty minutes later, the precinct called.

Some petty thief had stumbled down the steps outside the cyber cafe and snapped his tibia. When they rolled him over, he had a student ID in his coat pocket. It had her name on it.

She got her money back. She threw her arms around me and cried happy tears for a solid five

minutes.

That evening, I was closing up the diner. Wiping down the counter.

An SUV pulled up outside.

The door chimed and Sheriff walked in. He was the same guy who’d led the raid on The Velvet two

years ago.

He walked up to the register and set something down on the counter. It was a wooden token, worn smooth from years of being held in someone’s pocket.

“Took me over a decade. But I finally found you.”

I froze.

There was a crooked letter carved into the wood. It looked like an L.

It was the same one the boy next door had made for me. Back when I was a scared little kid who’d just been dumped in that hellhole in Blackwood Ridge.

He pulled up a stool and tapped the badge on his chest. He was smiling.

“You told me once. When we were kids. You said I’d be a cop. That I’d put away the bad guys.”

“You were right.”

He tapped the badge on his chest. Then he looked at me.

“So. My turn.” He pulled up a stool. “Can a guy get something to eat around here?”

I grabbed a menu and slid it across the counter. I couldn’t help it. I was grinning.

“You come back safe every time, you eat free. That’s the deal.”

He blinked. A little color rose in his cheeks.

“Deal.”