24
Tegwyn
Iwakewithaloud gasp, heart hammering, face sweating as I search the room. “Mother?”
She’s gone. But where?
Slowly, I realise: I’m no longer in the farmhouse; I’m inside some poorly lit cave. Was it all a dream? No, it couldn’t have been.
I can still smell her lavender perfume…
Something moves beside me, and I yelp, bumping my head against a low-hanging ceiling. “Fuck!”
I really hope Mother isn’t here because I just said a bad word. I’ll be grounded for sure.
“Shh. It’s okay, it’s okay…”
Warm hands grip my cheeks, and I finally lock eyes with the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Blonde, blue-green eyes, and full, kissable lips. Maybe I died and went to heaven, because I swear I’m looking at an angel right now. Especially with the way the light surrounds her like a halo. The angel smiles, and my heart thumps twice as fast. Who is she? What happened to the farmhouse? What happened to Mother?
My eyes dart around the room again—no,cave—trying to find something familiar, yet my mind keeps drawing blanks. What is this cold, heartless place?
This isn’t home. It’s dark, eerie, and smells of shit. I want my childhood home back; I want my room with its bookshelves.
I want my jars of insects.
Most of all, I want my mother and grandfather back, but they’re not here. That much I can ascertain, and I feel like I’ve swallowed lead. Somehow, I know—they’re ancient history now.
Long gone.Ghosts.
Stalactites hang from the ceiling like the teeth of a great dragon, and I start gasping for breath. I’ve never felt quite so trapped, and a cold, clammy sweat sweeps over my skin, making me queasy. I’m about to be sick.
The blonde places a bowl before me, and I hack up my entrails, filling the cave with the most pleasant sounds.
Once I’m finished, I wipe the puke from my lips, meeting those big sea-green eyes. They have a beautiful starburst pattern, and my heart does that strange flipping motion again. It turns out that she’s not an angel after all, but a human girl with the most beautiful golden hair, and for a split second, I think I’m seeing Milly Shoehorn—the cobbler’s daughter.
But she isn’t Milly at all, and that’s when it all comes crashing back.
“I-Ivy?”
My voice is dry and hoarse from retching, but I still whisper her name, regardless. A reserved smile crosses her face, and my heart pounds for the umpteenth time.
That smile… It tips my whole world upside down. She’s even more beautiful than Milly.
“It’s me. H-hi…”
My heart flops heavily in my chest when I hear her voice, and then I stretch out my shaking hand, needing to touch her.She has to be real.
Ivy snatches up my hand, squeezing it tightly with her fingers, and all is right with the world again. She really is here. A lump clogs my throat, and then I find it hard to breathe.
Something awful transpired between us. I can’t recall what, but I know that it has something to do with her guarded smiles.
But before I can get my chance to apologise, she’s shushing me, placing a finger to my lips, and then she encourages me to lie back down.
She places a hand on my forehead, and I close my eyes, melting beneath her careful touch.
She presses a ceramic cup to my mouth, urging me to drink, and the refreshing water soothes my throat. When I’ve had my fill, she places the cup back at my bedside, wiping any residue from my lips.
Our faces are inches apart, yet she doesn’t look me in the eye. She’s too afraid, and I can’t fathom why.
