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“No way! Answer me before you hang up, woman.”
“I love you, Pickle. Bye!”
“Love you too, Dill. Bye.” I grumble, knowing that she’s just played the master.
I end the call and not even a minute later my Messenger app dings with the address. I stare at it for a while, and then google the site. Cabin 102. It’s stunning. Lots of trees and a huge lake right next to it. It’s a little far from the town, and the closest neighboring cabins, 101 and 103, are at least half a mile to a mile away on either side.
I remember Jan telling me stories every summer she went. Her mom purchased it with her best friend. I could leave now. I let the idea roll around my head some more. It’s not like I don’t know Jan’s family, and I do get along with her parents. Inhale some fresh air and get away from this depressing apartment. Commune with nature and all that hippie shit. Jan sends me the code for the keyless entry, and the temptation is officially too strong.
Oh, why the hell not? I’ve done crazier stuff with less motivation.
For the most part, my life is amazing. I’m widely successful. I took over my father’s guitar store and I’ve expanded the business. And what sets my business apart, and contributes to my family’s success, is my father had started specializing in affordable, left-handed guitars. We have branches in all the major cities. I even get to work with some of the legends within the music industry.
I also have the most loyal and genuine best friend. She’s never frowned or judged me. I can wear whatever I want around her, speak freely, and I can be comfortable being me. But even with all that being said, it’s still not enough. This void I feel becomes suffocating at times.
The only other people I had in my life, who were truly my rock, were my parents. They were almost fifty when they had me…and sadly, they passed away last year. I was a miracle baby for them, and one hell of a surprise. After years of trying, they were convinced that all the drugs and partying they did in their early adult years had made them both sterile. Then when Mom couldn’t shake a stomach bug and went to the doctor, turns out, I was the bug.
My parents didn’t have any friends with kids my age, and weren’t close to any of their families. Maybe growing up alone is why I’ve always struggled with friendships and romantic relationships. It’s never come easy to me, and maybe I have a bit of a chip on my shoulder after repeatedly getting burned by other partners. I’ve never gotten along with other women because they all labeled me a whore. Flirting comes natural to me so I might have unintentionally flirted with their guys. But to be fair, I flirt with women, too. Did my flirting make them uncomfortable, or just flirting with the person they wanted? I guess I’ll never know. I’m also very open about how I enjoy sex…but who doesn’t? My mom used to tell me to brush off those insecure bitches, that they were threatened by me. Some men couldn’t handle me once they found out that I like women as well. To those, my mom said it’s because they had a micro penis and knew they couldn’t compete with a vagina in the bedroom.
So here I am. Mid-thirties and no prospects of future friends or life partners. Honestly, I’d settle for a decent part-time partner at this point. Instead, I’m alone in a cabin in the woods awaiting my bestie and her family to arrive. The cabin is luxurious yet homey and charming, as well as the perfect place for me to be murdered. Neighboring cabins are far enough away that nobody will hear my screams. It’s nestled upon a hill with a walkway down to the water. I wonder if Jason Voorhees is swimming around down there, waiting for me to get close enough where he can reach out and pull me under. It’s not Friday the 13th, so maybe I’m okay… Note to self, watch the movies again so I know the horror movie rules.
I’m greeted by the smell of fresh pine as I let myself inside, and I roll my suitcase through the doorway. The sun shines through the windows, illuminating the cozy atmosphere. The open-floor plan is all wood; in fact, everything is wooden, from the ceilings, floors, walls, and all the furnishings, except for the two leather couches and the beautiful stone fireplace. There’s also an entire second floor. I wander about and discover the two-story cabin has three bedrooms on each floor: the largest on both levels are decorated in beige tones, complete with a king-size bed, private bath, and balcony. The second largest room is soft yellow, with a matching yellow quilt on a queen bed, and then both floors have a white room with twin bunk beds. I claim the queen bed on the lower floor.
There’s a large picture window that I open to let the room air out. Thankfully, there’s only a slight musty smell from being closed up a while. As I’m unpacking, I realize I’ve forgotten something…or someone. I left Cruise, my vibrator, at home. How in the hell did I forget him? I’m not going to be able to go a weekend without his help. Not that I’m addicted, but I do get grouchy when I need some relief. I check the bathroom for a detachable shower head as a substitute. Negative. I search Google for sex shops nearby, but there’s none. Looks like it’s going to be my spit and fingers…the good old-fashioned way.
Once I’ve finished unpacking, I check the kitchen for something to snack on. Considering I wasn’t actually expecting to find anything, I’m surprised there’s a few healthy snacks that haven’t expired and bottles of water. Still, I’m going to need more than this to survive. I grab my purse and hop back into my car in search of sustenance.
I follow my GPS to the local grocery store. It’s a small little market, but there’s plenty of variety. Nineties music plays over the sound system, and I bob my head to the beat. I grab milk, a variety of cereals because I only know what Jan and I like, and a few other necessities. Humming along, I also throw the basic bathroom needs into my cart as I’m not sure if that’s stocked at the cabin and I didn’t think about looking before I left in search of food. While strolling through the produce, I pause at the cucumbers. I laugh at a particularly large one. I’ve never used one of these for pleasure, but I’ve heard plenty of jokes about it. There are the carrots that could work as well…but even though I could cut the greenery on the end off, the image is in my head of it sticking out of me and ewwww.
I’ve forgotten Cruise back at home, so Cruise the Cucumber it is.
Chapter 2
Cruz
I enter the hospital and nod to Priscilla, our receptionist. She greets me with a wave, “Good afternoon, Dr. Bryce.”
One of the nurses whose shift is ending walks past me. “It’s been a slow afternoon.”
I spin around and walk backward to respond to her. "Nothing exciting ever happens until tourist season begins. Let’s enjoy it while we can.”
“Spoke too soon,” Priscilla calls out.
Nurse Kimber walks around with a secretive smile. I follow her to the double doors of the emergency room. “What do we have?”
“I’m just going to let you read the file and then see for yourself.”
My brow furrows because what could have Kimber snickering. Based on the boards, this is the only patient in the ER and my first for the shift, so let’s jump to it.
I grab the file for a Journi November Reign. Clearly somebody has rock fans for parents. I do admire the creativity for ‘rain.’ She is here in the ER because…what? I have to be reading this wrong.
Peeling the white curtain back, I find a woman in the standard gown, covering her face with her hands with her shiny, long black hair hanging down.
“Ms. Reign. Hello,” I clear my throat when she groans. “I’m Dr. Bryce. How are we feeling tonight?”
“Full. And not in a good way.”
This one is going to keep it interesting. “I’m sorry to hear that. Seems you’ve gotten something, ummm…lodged?”
