The Ghost of Sevyn's Past

My hands tremble as I pick the cup off the counter causing small drops of hot chamomile tea to spill on my fingers. I know it’s hot because I can see the steam rising from the cup, but I can’t feel anything because five minutes ago, a ghost showed up at my front door.

All these years, everyone assumed Zoe had died and I carried the burden of her possible demise on my shoulders, unable to ignore its heaviness no matter how hard I tried. Now she’s here - living and breathing, sitting on my couch.

     I wonder if Mrs. Bennett knows she’s alive. I wonder if anyone knows she’s alive. Where has she been all this time, and why did she come here? 

Though she’s kept a kind demeanor since she arrived, I can’t help but wonder if she’s still angry with me for what happened that night. I shouldn’t leave her alone with Ben for so long. Who knows where she’s been, or what she’s been doing. I’m going to head out there and find out exactly what her intentions are. 

    I start towards the kitchen door and halt when I realize my hands are still dripping with tea. I wash my hands and use a cloth to wipe the saucer and cup before taking a deep breath and entering the living room where Ben awkwardly sits at the edge of the big brown leather recliner, his lips folded and his fingers tapping his knee.

    “Sorry about the wait,” I say, trying to sound less nervous than I really am. I place the cup of now lukewarm tea in front of Zoe. “There was a bit of a ‘Boston tea party’ situation,” I continue, using air quotes. She smiles graciously at my desperate attempt of a joke. 

   “Thank you, Sevvie.” My spine tingles. Zoe takes a sip of tea. 

   “Sevyn,” I blurt out. Ben and Zoe both pause and look at me. “I go by Sevyn now. Just, Sevyn.” The air thickens as Zoe takes another slow sip of tea. Ben’s eyes dart back and forth between the two of us. Zoe lowers the cup on to the saucer causing a clank sound and then places the set on to the table. She looks up and her lips form into the crooked smile she’s had since we were kids, the one that looks like she’s only half smiling and her eyes are slightly lowered. Her real smile. Only now, her eyes are closer to a swampy green color than the emerald shine it once held.

After what feels like forever, she finally responds.

“Okay, Sevyn.”

I stare into Zoe’s eyes for a second longer than I should, trying to read her. She seems to be sincere, but for some reason I can’t shake this eerie feeling that’s filled the room.

I break our gaze and look at Ben, hoping he’ll save me from the agony of trying to figure out what to say next. He clears his throat and adjusts himself in his seat, turning to Zoe. He flashes his charming smile at her.

“Fruit?” he asks, gesturing to the platter on the table. I roll my eyes and sit on the end of the couch opposite Zoe. 

“Um,” I start, eyeing my cell phone on the glass coffee table. “Are you sure you don’t want us to call the police?”

“I’m sure.” She smiles quietly. “I don’t want to risk the media putting it out there that I’m back - not before I have a chance to go and visit my mom, and Ronnie.” 

“You haven’t gone to see your parents yet?” She shakes her head and looks down.

“I…I don’t want them to see me like this.” A tear rolls down her cheek. She quickly wipes it away. “That’s why I’m here Sevvie - Sevyn. I was hoping I could clean myself up and recover a bit before I go and see them. It wouldn’t be for more than a couple of days. I promise.” 

“How did you even know I lived here?” 

“It’s your dream house,” Zoe says, her familiar smile reappearing. “You always said when you were older, and you had a family you would live in the big gray house with the cobblestone driveway on Maple Ave. I knew you would get it. After all these years I…I knew you would be here. And it wasn’t hard to miss.” She chuckles and raises her arms in astonishment, her eyebrows raising. “It’s the biggest house on the street.” I smile quietly. 

“I can’t believe you remembered that.”

“Of course I did.” Zoe shifts her body towards me and leans forward. “We were best friends.” My body tightens for a moment. I pull myself together.

“Zoe,” I start. “I’m glad that you’re…here, but I have to ask you some questions before I even consider the possibility of you staying. I…I’m a mom now.” Her eyebrows raise again as she leans back. “Of two, in fact. Bryson is eight and Penelope just hit the four-month mark in February.” 

“Wow!” Zoe says, her face lit up. “That’s incredible. I would love to meet them.” I fold my lips and nod.

“Yes…So, you understand why I have to be cautious.”

“Yes,” she agrees. “Of course. Ask me anything.” I take a deep breath and nod slowly.

“Okay…So…where were you?” Zoe looks down at her fidgeting hands and closes her eyes for a moment. She inhales deeply and releases.

“I’m sorry,” I say. 

“No, it’s okay.” She opens her eyes. “It’s just difficult to talk about.” She sighs and looks up at me. “That night…the night of the senior trip. After the whole lake thing, I went in my bag and put on an extra pair of clothes I had. Then I started walking back up to the cabin.”

“You had a bag?” I interrupt. Zoe’s lips part and Ben looks at me with wide eyes. “Sorry.” I didn’t mean to interrupt, but I don’t remember Zoe having a bag with her. In fact, I remember her borrowing Chapstick from mine because she forgot hers. 

“I did,” she assures me. “Anyways, I felt something really hard hit me on the head. While I was trying to get up, someone grabbed me and injected me with something. The next thing I know, I woke up in a basement, locked in a cage like an animal.”

“Oh my God,” I gasp, covering my mouth in terror.

“He held me there for ten years, torturing me and threatening to kill my family.” Another tear rolls down her cheek. This time she doesn’t wipe it away. “I spent the last decade of my life terrified.”

“That’s terrible,” Ben says, sympathetically. He digs in his pocket and pulls his phone out. “Is he still out there? We have to call the police!”

“No,” she quickly says, putting a hand up. Ben and I exchange curious glances. “I…I had to kill him.” My heart drops to my stomach. More tears stream down Zoe’s face as her shoulders quiver. “I had to get out of there!” I scooch myself closer to Zoe and wrap the fuzzy throw blanket resting on the couch around her and squeeze her arm. Our eyes meet, and for a moment it feels like we’re eight years old again, sharing the grilled cheese sandwich Mrs. Bennett packed for her because my mom only gave me a single piece of fruit. A wave of guilt pangs my chest. I can’t believe I thought Zoe would do something to hurt me or my family. She may have killed a man, but he had it coming. I can only imagine what he did to her, and what he might’ve done if she hadn’t protected herself.

“Hey,” I say, lifting my hand to her cheeks and wiping her tears. “It’s okay. You did what you had to do. I don’t blame you. The police won’t blame you.” Panic jumps into Zoe’s eyes.

“No police,” she demands. I sit up straight, bringing my face an inch or two further from hers. “Please,” Zoe begs. “I spent the last ten years of my life locked in a cage, and there’s no proof of what he did to me.”

“Well, where did he keep you?” I ask. “We can give that information to the police and -”

“I don’t know,” she says. “I wasn’t awake when he took me there and earlier, he blindfolded me and put me in the trunk of his car and drove me out somewhere in the middle of nowhere. He was going to shoot me. I managed to talk him out of it - to take me back to his place where I would be his slave. He agreed and started to put his gun away. I was either going to be free or die trying but either way, I wasn’t going back there. So, I lunged for his gun and we fought over it. Eventually I got the upper hand and…and I did what I had to do. I’m not proud of it but I cannot go to prison. I cannot spend any more of my life behind bars.” The passion rises in Zoe’s voice as she trembles. “If I went to prison for killing him, he would still be keeping me behind bars. He would win.” I feel worse and worse as Zoe’s words sink in. What she went through was horrific. She’s a victim, not a murderer. I certainly couldn’t live with myself if she was punished for simply defending herself.

“May I use your bathroom?” Zoe asks, wiping tears from her face.

“Of course,” I reply. “Down the hall, second door on the right.” Ben and I remain quiet until Zoe is surely out of hearing range.

“Oh my god,” I say, leaning in closer to him, my eyes wide.

“Jesus,” he exhales, running a hand through his hair. “Well, she doesn’t want to go to the police. What do we do?” I look back towards the hallway and back at Ben. Zoe’s story certainly adds up - at least the bits and pieces she’s told us. The fight she had earlier tonight out in the storm would explain the mud on her coat, and why she was dripping wet when she first got her. And though I don’t agree with her not calling the police, I can understand why she wouldn’t want to. The justice system isn’t always sympathetic to those who seek their own vengeance. 

“I want to let her stay,” I say. “She needs to get herself together before she sees her parents - we should at least allow her to do that after everything she’s been through. She says it should just be a couple of days and we never use the guest room anyways.” Ben nods.

“Okay. I support whatever you want to do.” I give an appreciative smile as Zoe makes her way back to the living room.

“Sorry about that,” she says, returning to her seat on the couch. “I’m ready for the rest of your questions.”

“Actually…” I look to Ben for confirmation. He nods again. I look back at Zoe. “I don’t need to ask you any more questions.” I reach closer to her and grab her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “We want you to stay and get yourself ready to see your parents. They deserve to see their little girl again at her best. I’ll help. We can even go shopping in the morning. I can buy you some new clothes and take you to the salon. I see that you don’t have a suitcase or anything.” Zoe tears again, this time accompanied by a smile. She squeezes my hand back.

“Thank you so much, Sevvie.”