Chapter 21 Sweet
“No,” Maggie replied quietly.
Another pause.
“I almost forgot,” Andrew said. “I know you don’t have cash with you. Check the drawer by the nightstand. There’s money there. Use it until I’m back.”
“Oh,” Maggie said softly. “Thank you.”
“And don’t call this number again unless it’s absolutely necessary,” he added.
“I hear you,” Maggie replied.
The line went dead.
She stared at the phone.
“…Wow,” she whispered.
She lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling.
“This life,” she murmured. “It’s mine.”
Her hand pressed against her chest.
“And I swear,” she whispered, eyes closing slowly, “I’ll get it back.”
Her lips trembled.
“And whatever I lost,” she breathed, “I’ll make it right.”
Silence filled the room.
Her breathing steadied.
And her eyes closed.
\---
'HOURS LATER'
Maggie jerked awake.
Her chest rose sharply as she sucked in a breath, her fingers clawing into the sheets beneath her.
“Where am I?” she whispered, panic slipping into her voice as her eyes darted around the darkness. “Where the hell am I?”
Her heart pounded.
The ceiling above her was unfamiliar. Too high.
“No, no, no,” she muttered, pushing herself up on her elbows. “This isn’t the hospital.”
She swallowed hard, breathing shallow.
Then her shoulders dropped slightly.
“Oh,” she whispered. “That’s right… I’m home.”
Her hand pressed against her chest.
“I was discharged,” she murmured. “I came back here.”
She let out a shaky breath.
“God,” she muttered, rubbing her face. “That panic came out of nowhere.”
She glanced around again, squinting into the dark.
“It’s… it’s dark already,” she whispered. “Did I sleep that long?”
Her brows furrowed.
“What time is it?” she asked herself, voice barely louder than air.
She slid her hand across the bed.
“Where’s my phone?” she muttered, fingers tracing the sheets. “Come on… come on…”
Her fingertips brushed against something smooth.
“There you are,” she breathed, relief flooding her tone.
She grabbed the phone and tapped the screen.
The glow hit her face instantly.
She squinted.
“…What?”
She leaned closer.
“No,” she whispered. “That can’t be right.”
Her eyes widened.
“It’s 4 a.m.?” she breathed. “Four in the morning?”
She blinked again.
“I slept over twelve hours?” she muttered, shaking her head slowly. “How is that even possible?”
She exhaled.
“Well,” she whispered, a small smile tugging at her lips, “home must really be home.”
She nodded faintly.
“My body probably felt safe enough,” she murmured. “Enough to just… shut down completely.”
She tapped her phone and turned on the flashlight.
The beam cut through the darkness.
She swung her legs over the bed and stood.
The room felt massive again.
She reached for the lamp on the nightstand and flicked it on.
Warm orange light filled the space.
“There,” she whispered. “That’s better.”
She looked at herself in the mirror.
Her hair was a mess. Her eyes sleepy. Her face softer than she remembered seeing it last.
“…You look...,” she whispered to her reflection. “I don’t even know what to say.”
Then suddenly—
Grrrrrr.
Her stomach growled loudly.
She froze.
“…Wow,” she muttered, pressing a hand to her belly. “Okay. That’s rude.”
She laughed softly.
“Fuck, I’m really hungry,” she said plainly.
She glanced around.
“What do I eat?” she asked aloud. “Is there even food in this giant house?”
She shook her head.
“Well,” she muttered, stepping toward the door, “only one way to find out.”
She padded into the hallway barefoot.
The house was silent.
Too silent.
“This place feels different at night,” she whispered. “Like it’s watching me.”
She paused, listening.
“…Okay, Maggie,” she muttered. “You’re not in a horror movie. You’re just hungry.”
She descended the stairs carefully.
Her bare feet made no sound against the polished floor.
She reached the kitchen.
Her eyes scanned the space.
“Alright,” she whispered, rubbing her hands together. “Moment of truth.”
She walked straight to the massive built-in refrigerator and grabbed the handle.
“Please let there be food,” she murmured as she pulled it open.
The interior light spilled out.
She gasped softly.
“Apples,” she whispered.
She grabbed one immediately.
She took a bite without hesitation.
“Mm,” she hummed, eyes closing briefly. “That’s… good.”
She chewed, leaning against the counter.
Her eyes flicked back into the fridge.
“…Milk?” she exclaimed quietly, spotting the plastic keg. “Yes!”
She finished the apple quickly and grabbed the milk.
“There has to be cereal somewhere,” she said confidently.
She shut the fridge and placed the milk on the counter.
Her stomach growled again.
“Alright, alright,” she laughed softly. “I hear you.”
She opened a cabinet.
Her jaw dropped.
“…Wow.”
Boxes. Packs. Containers.
“This kitchen is stocked,” she whispered. “Like… really stocked.”
She smiled.
“I’m loving this life already,” she murmured.
Then her eyes scanned.
“There you are,” she said happily. “Cereal.”
She grabbed a box.
“Sweet.”