Freedom

 When I left the hospital, Zeus did everything I asked except write me a five-million-dollar check. The note he went with it explained that he wanted to make sure I was taken care of for the rest of my life. Little did he know that I used the money to book a first-class ticket to Monterey, CA, buy a two-million-dollar house on the beach, and never look back. 

 I've lived here for nearly six months now. Waking up to the sounds of the waves crashing along the shoreline, followed by seagulls squawking, was peaceful. When I'd sit on my porch, all I could smell was the saltwater of the oceans, with the wind combining its fingers through my long red hair. The thought of the events that happened that day slowly faded away. 

 Tanya and Eric were still in New York. Tanya couldn't leave until Cameron graduated from High School because of his football scholarship, and Eric was waiting for his apartment to be sold before he left. I was on my own again. I'd been going out every day, buying useless things and spending money on overpriced food to feel anything other than empty. Ever since I lost my son, I've felt a deep seeding hatred for Eve, and I wanted to destroy her. This is part of the reason why I left. 

 "You're beautiful," a smart-looking man commented beside me.

 "Thanks," I emotionlessly replied.

 "Something on your mind?" he asked.

 "Nothing, to be honest. I don't feel anything," I answered, taking back a shot of Bushmills Scotch and 30 years. 

 "I'd offer to buy you a drink, but you look well taken care of with that full bottle by your side," he hinted.

 "I bought this bottle a few weeks ago. When I come in, they know this is what I want and give it to me without hesitation or question," I grumbled. 

 I glanced at him in annoyance. He was attractive, considering he had on glasses, slicked-back light brown hair, somewhat business attire, and a perfect shave, but I couldn't be less interested. As I looked at him, I saw he was also studying me.

 "Like what you see?" I scoffed.

 "I'd love to paint you," he said.

 "What?" I turned to face him, "I must admit, I hadn't heard that one before."

 He chuckled before extending his right hand to me, "I'm Deacon."

 I looked down at his hand and rolled my eyes while downing another shot, "Ivy."

 Deacon dropped his hand but kept his smile, "Actually, I'm a professor at Monterey Peninsula College. I teach art."

 "Good for you, Professor," I faked. 

 "You have an aura about you," he studied, "You seem sad but angry. Strong, but cracked in some parts. Cold, but kind."

 "Any other words for what you think I am?" I growled.

 "Beautiful but broken," he finished.

 I looked back at this man. He was bold for not knowing who I was. Even bolder for not knowing that I wanted to slap the shit out of him for bothering me.

 "How about this? I'll give you my number; you can come by the college in the evenings. I want to show you that I'm not some pervert trying to get you to come home with me," he propositioned. 

 I sighed as he wrote out his number on a bar nap.

 "Everything alright, Ivy?" the bartender asked.

 I looked at him and took one final drink before standing, "I'm alright; I was just leaving."

 I unintentionally grabbed the bar nap with his number and wiped my mouth of the whiskey oozing from the corner. 

 "See you tomorrow."