"Some people stay broken. Some pick up the pieces and put them back together with all the sharp edges showing"
Once upon a time, there was a gardener with a wicked mind and overly obsession with butterflies and little girls.
Once upon a time, this...
The sun had gone down when she left the public library, making the 16 years old sigh softly, pulling up her hood as she started to walk in the direction of her house.
It was a 15 minutes walk, sometimes she made it in 30 when she was not feeling like it, taking small and slow steps towards her destination, but it was a short walk indeed.
She wasn't born to a privileged family, she couldn't have a massive bookshelf, which resulted in her finding comfort in the library, and her house was a small one, in the outskirts of the city.
She whistled, not loudly, just enough to reassure herself. It was something her grandfather had taught her - if afraid of the dark, whistle, and she did.
But it didn't stop him.
It never stopped him.
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Eden couldn't help but overhear the conversation going on around her, a habit she had gotten in the Garden, not really a fan of talking herself, she much preferred to listen.
It was useful as well, she could tell the humor of the Gardener even before she saw him and she played with that knowledge, knowing where the limits stood, what she could and couldn't say in order not to get a beating.
It was also the way she knew the relationship of each butterfly and the Gardener - oh and his sons... of course... his sons, because having one of them in the world wasn't enough.
Biting on her bacon cheeseburger, one of the things she missed the most during her captivity, apart from her cat, which she didn't really know what had happened to him, and coffee, she frowned, mostly sure that these people were a little too old to play RPG.
Her eyes subconsciously roamed around the place, making mental notes:
One on the front, another on the back, two ways she could run away.
Her hazel eyes then paused, unfocused, looking past the wall, as she understood what she was doing - again. Her shoulders dropped, body slouching, disappointed at herself.
She would never be the same.
"Let me be clear" the British male suddenly said serious, making Eden tilt her head slightly, so she could watch them from the corner of her eyes "I have my doppelgänger. I have my vampire. I have my witch. I have my werewolf. I have everything I need. The ritual will happen tonight"
The certainty in his voice would've made her believe that the supernatural had become a thing in the meantime she was locked up, but since she had been free she had seen none, so her brain was crafting theories that could make sense of his words.
