Chapter 37: Chapter Thirty-Seven: Primrose

Helaine

Evan’s hand was on my thigh as the el camino rolled through the woodland road, the headlights illuminating the eyes of a fat raccoon as it crossed in front of us.

“We’re close,” I told him, taking his hand and squeezing it tight as we drove further down this lonely road.

Just on the other side of these trees would be my hometown of Primrose New York. Even though I came home every year for the holidays, I never looked forward to coming back.

“It’s alright,” Evan offered from the driver’s seat, keeping one hand on the steering wheel. One thing that was comforting about riding with a vampire was that he really didn’t even need the headlights, so he was worlds safer driving at night than the average man. “We’ll get the answers you need, and we can leave whenever you want.”

That was one of the things I loved most about this man. He always gave me a choice, even when I felt as though my life was spiraling completely out of control.

Even though we’d come this far, even after everything we’d gone through on this trip alone, I knew without a shadow of a doubt that he would make a U-turn right now and drive us home if I asked him to.

But as tempting as that was, I couldn’t make that call. I needed answers.

That didn’t stop Evan’s presence from being a comfort though. He knew how much I needed this, and I’d wager he also knew how much I needed his support.

“You’re right, he can’t make me stay,” I sighed, and a bit of the tension relaxed from my shoulders, but not much of it. “It’s just always hard coming back here.”

He squeezed my hand reassuringly, but I could see the distaste in his eyes as though he was inspecting the town, committing to memory the place that failed me so severely. “From what little you’ve told me, I can imagine you don’t have the best memories of this place.”

I let out a scoff—it was almost funny when he put it that way. The understatement of the century.

“Outside of my dad’s house, I don’t have many memories of Primrose at all.” My lips curved into a grimace as I watched the trees begin to give way to flat farmland with cows grazing behind electric fences.

The first time I truly saw Primrose was when I had finally built up the courage to leave it, and my father, behind. Making this trip always felt like pissing on the difficult decision I made to escape.

Next up came the charming little village, unassuming and picturesque, like the kind of town that would feature in a sitcom back in the fifties. Sure, it wasn’t as well-kept as it was back in my childhood, and the bright colored paints were long since faded, but the surreal pseudo-familiarity made me shrink into my seat.

“Seems like a perfectly nice town.” He flexed his fingers on the steering wheel, his concern-filled eyes meeting mine in the rearview mirror. “But I guess all these kind of places have their dark secrets.”

“Yeah, and Primrose’s secret was me,” I huffed, my lip curling into a snarl. “You know, I don’t even know the last name of a single family in Primrose other than my own? Dad kept me away from everyone.”

I shifted in my seat, sitting up to get a better look at the old house on the hill. It’d become a lot harder to see in the past five or so years, once the new tree-growth got to a height that obscured it, but I knew where to look.

The red el camino wasn’t exactly inconspicuous, so it wasn’t a surprise when we turned heads as we rode through town.

Their stares only worked me up more though, especially the older people who were undoubtedly the same people who my dad would’ve had to see every week in the grocery store.

“He fucking tortured me in that house, and all these nice people just went about their day ‘minding their own business’ as though it wasn’t a red flag that Frank Fairgrieve had a daughter who never came out to play with the other kids.”

He even went so far as to send a cease and desist letter to the parents of the neighborhood kids who kept knocking on our door asking me to come out.

“Every neighborhood has a spooky old house on the hill, I guess,” Evan spat, taking a sharp turn when I pointed out the turnoff to my dad’s road. “The horror in yours was just a little more real than most.”

His knuckles were whiter than the rest of his hand against the steering wheel, and his teeth were bared in a snarl as the el camino carried us down the long driveway.

It put butterflies in my stomach, the way he cared so deeply about me, and the suffering Frank Fairgrieve put me through in the name of my inherent sin. But it was also concerning.

Images of us walking into the old house and Evan ripping my dad’s head clean off his shoulders flashed through my mind, or—god forbid—tearing his heart out of his chest like he did to that slayer back at the hotel.

Frank was a horrible father—probably kidnapped me—but he still raised me, and even if he deserved it, I didn’t want to watch him die.

“Let me do the talking,” I told him, squeezing his hand. “I don’t want you walking in there guns blazing. He’s my dad.”

If I had anything to say about it, Frank Fairgrieve would die in that house at a ripe old age, cold and alone, knowing that no one was going to miss him when he was gone.

Tears stung my eyes, threatening to fall, but I sniffed hard to push it down.

“It’s okay to be sad.” Evan squeezed my thigh, glancing over at me as we slowly rolled down the driveway. “He was your dad, confronting him was never going to be easy.”

“That man beat me, he isolated me from everyone and everything until he couldn’t control me anymore,” I spat, my hands trembling in my lap. “I shouldn’t feel so sad about him—I should be happy I finally get to tell him what a piece of garbage he is.”

“You said it yourself—he made you believe he was the only family you had in this world.” Gravel crunched under the el camino’s tires as Evan brought the vehicle to a stop in front of the house. “Of course you’re hurting.”

As though his approval was all I needed, the floodgates unleashed, tears streaming down my cheeks as my face twisted into an ugly sob.

Maybe I was born to usher in Hell on Earth, but my own personal hell was standing above us, the deceptively charming blue paint on the house’s exterior cracked and faded from years of its resident simply not caring.

Evan pulled me against his chest, and I clung to him as he wrapped his arms around me, desperate for any sense of stability I could get right now.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered into my hair as he rubbed my back, keeping me anchored in the present day, not my gruesome past. “If you want to leave—”

My whole body tensed when I heard the front door creak open, and the screen door smacked against the frame when it swung closed. If I didn’t know better, I’d think my heart had stopped in my chest.

The racking of the old shotgun he always kept by the door echoed around my skull. “I don’t know who you think you are, but you’d best get off my property before—”

The tears stopped and my face twisted into a mask of pure rage. Tearing myself out of Evan’s arms, I practically threw the passenger side door open, stepping out to stare my father down like he was shit under my shoe.

“Hi Dad,” I spat, my whole body feeling like it had been lit on fire. “Hope you don’t mind me stopping by unannounced.”