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Sandy pulls back, her hands cupping my upper arms as she stares at me. “Christy, is everything okay?” she questions. “We don’t have to go tonight.”
I shake my head, refusing to crumble. “I’m absolutely fine, nothing that a Netflix binge and a bag of popcorn won’t fix…” My voice trails off as she stares at me, hesitating. “I’m on my period,” I lie, needing to give her something to explain my behaviour. Fortunately for us both, she believes me.
“Ah, I see. Then you’ll be wanting that extra special bar of chocolate that I keep for such occasions, yes?” she asks, lowering her voice conspiratorially.
Frank’s eyes light up. “Did you just say chocolate?”
“No, Frank. No, I didn’t.”
He narrows his eyes at her, then flicks his gaze to me. I just shrug, knowing all too well he has a chocolate addiction to rival all others. “Hmm…”
“Come on, old man. Let’s get going,” Sandy says, taking his hand and pulling him towards the back door, before stepping out into the night.
“I’m going to miss you,” I say, watching them leave, my words snatched by the breeze and dispersed before even reaching their ears.
* * *
The clockin my bedroom strikes midnight, and I can’t help but shake my head at the irony. This isn’t the start of a fairy tale, at least not the romantic ones Grim liked to read to me as a kid. Since she found out about me, she would call me at bedtime from her home in London and read me all her favourite fairy tales. I think, for her, they were a way to escape the environment she lived in. Those stories gave her respite and they helped our bond grow into something strong and unbreakable.
The thing is, whilst Grim’s very own fairy tale may have worked out in the end, I’m not so hopeful about mine. I don’t see love and happiness in my future, just darkness.
Justthem.
Drawing my legs up, I wrap my arms around my shins, hugging myself. The skin on my back prickles uncomfortably.
They’re close.
Minutes tick by, time stretching on endlessly as I wait for The Masks to break into my home. I flinch at every sound, on edge. Waiting.
It’s agonising knowing your own fate. With every passing second, my courage wanes and my need to run from my future begins to take hold. Fight or flight is a natural instinct, and neither was an option I believed I had until right this second. I’ve always assumed that everyone’s future is written, and for some reason I just happen to be one of those people who’s able to read what no one else could. But what if I was given this ability so that Icanchange the course of my future? What if I’ve misunderstood my gift all this time?
Icouldstill run.
I may only have a few minutes, but that might be all I need. I have a car. I can drive away from here. Spurned into action, I leap off my bed and pull on my trainers, momentarily rocked by a sudden wave of dizziness that almost brings me to my knees. Grabbing hold of my chest-of-drawers, I blink back the black spots dotting my vision and breathe in heavily through my nose.Weird. I’ve never suffered from fainting spells or anything like that before. Perhaps it’s the stress and sudden rush of adrenaline at my decision. Regardless, the second my dizzy spell passes I grab my mobile phone, car keys and wallet, and stuff them into the pocket of my hoodie, grateful that I chose to remain fully dressed. I didn’t even remove my makeup. Subconsciously or not, I didn’t want them to see me at my most vulnerable. Besides, there was no way I was going to be half naked when they took me.
With adrenaline pumping in my veins I pull open my bedroom door and step into the darkened hallway. My heart thumps wildly in my chest as I creep towards the kitchen and my car parked in the driveway beyond. I try to make as little noise as possible, already fearful that they’re in the house.
With every step I take towards escape, the skin on my back tightens, the painful memory of the night I nearly lost my life to the fire, returning. Ignoring the memory and the sense of foreboding, I focus on pushing open the door only to come to a complete standstill the second I step into the kitchen.
No. This isn’t happening.
I look at my aunt and uncle sitting at the table with abject terror. They can’t be here. Theyshouldn’tbe here.
“What are you doing home?” I ask, the words tumbling out the moment my shock subsides.
“Interesting...” my aunt says, cocking her head to the side as she regards me with a cold, absent gaze.
“Interesting?” I question, my throat tightening. “What do you mean by that?”
“You’ll find out soon enough,” she answers, avoiding my question altogether.
There isn’t any warmth in her voice, and none of the love that usually emanates from her. Swallowing hard, I look from my aunt to my uncle sitting opposite. His attention is drawn towards the back door that’s flung open. He ignores me, completely oblivious to my presence. Outside rain lashes down, and a rumble of thunder cracks overhead, making me jump.
“Sandy…? Frank…?” My voice cracks, the skin on my back prickles. Something isn’t right. This feelswrong. Yet, despite every instinct telling me to turn around and run, my feet have a mind of their own and I step further into the kitchen.
“You’re not what I was expecting,” my aunt continues, her gaze trailing over me. She looks at me as though I’m a stranger, as though we haven’t spent the last fifteen years living together, that she hasn’t held me when I’ve cried, or made me laugh until my stomach hurt.
“Sandy, what’s going on…?”
