00 Prologue
Nicolette stormed out of the second-floor apartment, her duffel bag slung over her shoulder and anger simmering just beneath her purple-hued skin. The echoes of her shouting match with her now ex-girlfriend still rang in her ears. She wanted to slam the door, to punctuate the end of their relationship with a satisfying bang, but experience held her back. She’d learned as a child that slamming doors often resulted in her tail getting caught. A mistake she was not willing to repeat. Instead, she closed the door with a firm, restrained push, the click feeling feeble compared to the rage boiling inside her.
She strode toward her car parked at the curb just past the apartment’s lawn, chin held high in an attempt to preserve a shred of dignity. Her tail swayed sharply with each step, betraying her emotions. Just as she reached the pavement, her ex’s voice pierced the air. “You forgot your stupid hoodie!” Nicolette froze, then turned just in time to see a balled-up hoodie hurtling toward her. It unfurled mid-air and flopped unceremoniously into the bushes. Her ex leaned out the second-story window, laughing derisively and throwing up two middle fingers before slamming the window shut.
For a moment, Nicolette considered leaving the hoodie where it lay, tangled among the branches. It wasn’t worth the effort or the humiliation, but practicality won out. She muttered a curse under her breath and doubled back, plucking the garment from the bushes. Shaking off a few stray leaves, she continued toward her car, her steps heavier now, her pride bruised.
Reaching her old sedan, she tossed the duffel bag into the back seat and slid into the driver’s seat. Ensuring her tail was safely inside, she slammed the door with a resounding thunk that provided a small, fleeting sense of satisfaction. She jammed the key into the ignition, her hands trembling with frustration, and turned it. The vehicle let out a screeching whine, refusing to start. She gritted her teeth and tried again, the sound mocking her with every failed attempt.
"Come on, girl, don’t do this to me," Nicolette pleaded, her voice wavering as she turned the key once more. This time, the engine started as if nothing was wrong. Relief washed over her, and she patted the dashboard gently. "Good girl," she murmured, forcing a faint smile.
She shifted the car into reverse and stepped on the gas, but instead of rolling backward, the vehicle lurched forward and collided with one of the wooden posts that separated the parking lot from the lawn. "Shit!" she hissed, slamming the brake and throwing the car into actual reverse. This time, she carefully backed out, her cheeks burning with a mix of anger and embarrassment.
Nicolette drove aimlessly for a while before pulling into the back end of a department store parking lot. The lot was nearly empty, its desolate corners offering her a semblance of privacy. She grabbed her phone and stared at the screen for a long moment before texting her brother. "Hey. Jenna kicked me out again. Is your couch still available?" She hit send, knowing he wouldn’t see it for hours and hating herself for being a burden on him and his wife.
Tossing the phone onto the passenger seat, she rested her forehead on the steering wheel, her tail curling around her ankle in a gesture of despair. Hot tears pricked at her eyes, but before they could spill, she angrily slammed her palms against the steering wheel. The loud thud echoed in the empty lot, a futile attempt to vent her frustration. Only then did she allow herself to cry, the sobs wracking her body as she curled into herself, alone in the cold, unfeeling car.
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***
Nicolette leaned against the counter, absently fiddling with a pen while her coworker Sally leaned over, whispering conspiratorially. “You know, you could always move. Devil’s Peak is only a few hours away.”
Nicolette sighed, her tail flicking in irritation. “I can’t just pack up and go. Moving takes money, and I don’t exactly have a savings account right now. And my car is falling apart.” She avoided Sally’s gaze, focusing instead on the chipped paint of the counter.
Before Sally could reply, Carl, the store manager, walked past with a clipboard in hand. His eyes lingered too long on Nicolette, his smile making her skin crawl. “Hey, Nikki,” he called out, “I need you to clear off the top shelves in aisle five today. Got it?” His tone was dripping with fake cheerfulness, but the underlying insinuation in his glance was impossible to miss.
Nicolette stiffened, clutching the pen so tightly her knuckles turned a shade lighter. She mumbled an acknowledgment and turned back to Sally, who rolled her eyes the moment Carl was out of earshot. “You forgot to change out of that skirt after your… morning drama. You know he’s going to take advantage of that.”
“Don’t remind me,” Nicolette muttered, pulling at the hem of her skirt as if that would make it longer. She had been too frazzled after her fight to change into her usual jeans, and now she felt like she had a target painted on her.
Sally leaned closer, her voice dropping. “You know what you should do? Use your brother’s address to get out of here. Get a gym membership so you can take a shower, and sleep in your car. It’s temporary, but it beats staying in this hellhole and dealing with Creepy Carl every day.”
Nicolette’s tail flicked sharply, a sign of her frustration. “And then what? I’ll just be homeless in Devil’s Peak instead of a miserable stock clerk here? That doesn’t sound like much of an upgrade.”
Sally shrugged. “It’s not perfect, but at least you’d have a shot. Staying here means more of the same. Dead-end job, rundown town, and Carl thinking he can get away with… whatever that was.” She gestured toward the aisle where Carl had disappeared.
Nicolette hesitated, the weight of the decision pressing down on her. Her tail coiled slightly behind her as she considered her options: endure Carl’s harassment and a dead-end life in her hometown, or take a risk, even if it meant sleeping in her car and starting from scratch. Neither choice was ideal, but Sally’s words planted a seed of possibility she couldn’t quite ignore.
***
Nicolette sat behind the wheel of her car, her fingers drumming absently against the steering wheel as she waited at the red light. She leaned her head against the headrest, exhaustion creeping in after the long drive into Devil’s Peak. The weight of her decision to leave home still pressed heavily on her, but the not too distant tree covered hills in the town’s backdrop offered a strange sort of comfort.
As her gaze wandered, it landed on a man standing at the intersection with a cardboard sign. His clothes were worn, his hair slightly disheveled, but his posture wasn’t defeated. He held the sign steady, its bold, handwritten letters declaring, “Starting over. Trying to get back on my feet. Need money or…” Nicolette squinted to read the rest, but the light turned green before she could make out the list of items.
She hesitated for a moment, her foot hovering over the gas pedal. Something about him tugged at her—a kind of resilience in his stance that she didn’t expect from a beggar. The car behind her honked, snapping her out of the moment, and she pressed the gas, driving through the intersection.
The man stood at the corner of an entrance road leading downhill to a cluster of businesses: a building supply store, a supercenter, and a strip mall with faded storefront signs. Nicolette caught a glimpse of the area as she passed, making a mental note of the location. It didn’t look like much, but she suspected she’d find herself there sooner rather than later.
She shook off the encounter as she drove on, focusing instead on finding somewhere to park for the night. Still, the image of the man and his sign lingered in her mind. “Starting over,” she muttered to herself, her tail flicking against the seat. “Yeah, aren’t we all?”