Prologue: how did I end up here?
ELOISE found herself furrowing her eyebrows at the revolving door of patrons that were exiting and entering the seemingly abandoned bar. Blue hues were fixated firmly on the wooden door; trying her hardest to keep her head low in an attempt to disguise her existence. She regretted throwing out her hoodie a couple of thousand miles back - maybe then it would serve her well.
But everything seemed a little out of place - like it doesn't belong in the outskirts of Atlanta. Or at least that was where she thought she was, last time she checked.
"Can I have something that's a bit stronger, please?" she asked the friendly-looking bartender timidly and wondered what a lively soul like her was doing in a place this grim. Perhaps they share the same fate; perhaps they were both running away from the things that have been haunting them for years. The only sensible explanation that Eloise could think of.
"Sure, what would you like? Whiskey? Scotch? Tequila? Vodka?" The friendly face grimaced at the word vodka, and Eloise could only assume that unpleasant memories that were associated with the liquid were currently resurfacing.
"Just whiskey, please." Eloise was unusually quiet; she wasn't sure how to act in front of the stranger. Disappearing was a lot easier when she didn't have to worry about any human interaction. By now she was sure that her husband had contacted every police station in the country - what information would he give, she briefly wondered, how much of herself should she change so she could continue to fly under the radar?
"I can tell that you're not from here, darlin'."
Just her luck, she had to be served by the world's friendliest bartender. Seriously, by the looks of this place, you would think that she would be a lot less happy. "Do you know where you are?"
Why'd she have to ask the obvious? She knew how to read the sign - the sign of the city that she was in, and the sign that was barely hanging on in front that read 'The Haven.'
"Atlanta," she answered in a confident manner. She figured that it would do her good, if she looked like she knew what the hell she was doing and what the hell she was saying. A woman with purpose, of some sort.
Much to her surprise, her answer was met with a round of laughter. A mocking laughter. She never would have thought that such tone could come out of such a friendly face.
"Oh, darlin', you really don't know what you have gotten yourself into by walking through those doors, don't you?"
