TWENTY-SIX
The moment she stepped through the door, Beth knew something was wrong. The heat was oppressive, stifling, like the house had been shut up all day. Why on earth didn’t Flo have the air conditioner on? It was the middle of March, the hottest part of the year.
‘Flo, are you here?’
Her question elicited no response, but surely Flo wasn’t still asleep—it was two in the afternoon!
Maybe she was still sick. Oh god—too sick to even get out of bed! Meanwhile, Beth had been selfishly preoccupied.
She sprinted down the hall. There’d be time to beat herself up later. Once she knew that Flo was okay.
Rounding the door to the main bedroom, Beth found it empty, the bed unmade, the covers tossed aside.
‘Flo?’
Nothing.
She wasn’t in the bathroom or spare bedroom, either.
The lounge room! Hadn’t she found Flo asleep in her armchair the last time she was here?
Racing through the empty kitchen to the lounge, she nearly collapsed in relief to see Flo in her usual spot. Why hadn’t she checked here—
Wait.
An ominous feeling settled over Beth. The unhealthy pallor of Flo’s skin was … it wasn’tnormal. Something was definitely wrong. What if Flo wasn’t just unwell, but, like,reallysick?
She choked on a sob and stepped closer. Why hadn’t she insisted that Flo get medical attention? Why hadn’t she kept her damn promise to check in on her?
‘Flo?’ She inched forward. Sweat trickled from the nape of her neck and down between her shoulder blades.
Stopping in the middle of the room, she locked her gaze on Flo’s chest. It wasn’t moving. At all.
‘No.’
An uncontrollable tremor took control of Beth’s body. This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t be real.
She should look for other signs of life,anysign. But panic had her stepping back, back, until she hit the wall and slid to the floor. This couldn’t be happening. Couldn’t be real. She was shaking. Unable to think. She couldn’t be losing another person she loved. This was her fault. All her fault.
She gasped for air and her lungs burned. So hot, so oppressive. Stifling.
Getup!She had to do something. Flo needed help.
Scrambling to her feet, she lurched from the room, fled towards the open front door. She cleared the threshold but tripped on the pavement. Landed on the dry, thirsty lawn and broke her fall with her knees and the heels of her hands.
Trembling violently, she filled her lungs and screamed. ‘Noooah!’
She cried out, again and again, and didn’t stop—not until he was right there in front of her.
Grasping her shoulders, a panicked look in his eye, he scanned her from head to toe. ‘What happened? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?’
She tried to answer, but her words came out in a garbled, incoherent stream. Noah seemed to get the gist of it and disappeared, leaving her alone.
Always alone.
This wasn’t happening. Wasn’t real.
Her body heaved and she retched, expelling the contents of her stomach right there on Flo’s summer-scorched grass. When there was nothing left to bring up, she scooted sideways, towards the house, until she found the wall. The rough surface dug into her skin. She pulled her knees to her chest, rested her forehead against them and hugged her legs to her. Her spine pressed harder against the bricks and she welcomed the sting. Squeezing her eyes shut, she blocked out the world and attempted to forget.
