Awakening You
Page 12
Peel back the skin, reveal what’s inside.
Look at me raw, see the truth in my eyes.
“I don’t know how, but I will, Sadie. I swear.”
Broken promises,
Cracked and ruptured.
Left behind,
Like dust on the floor.
I’m sorry I lied.
I slam on the brakes and strangle the steering wheel as the memory crawls under my skin. Fueled with the need to see what’s hidden in the house, to understand just how badly I let my sister down, I shove the car back into park, fling the door open, and climb out.
Raindrops splatter across my face and drip from my hair as I hike up the lopsided driveway. When I reach the side door of the house, I glance around to make sure no one is around before opening it.
The smell of mold and rot engulfs my nostrils as I step over the threshold and inside what looks like a kitchen. The floorboards groan under my boots as I inch my way into the darkness.
Sticking my hand into my pocket, I remove my phone and turn on the flashlight app to get a better look around.
The cupboards are hanging crooked on the walls, the countertops are torn up, and shards of glass cover the floor.
I carefully maneuver my way through the kitchen and into the living room, the atmosphere growing darker as the outside world slips away from me. To my right is a stairway, but most of the steps are missing. I veer in the opposite direction toward a closed door tucked behind a raised wall. Painted across the wall are words that are way too familiar: Running away is like running in circles. You can’t escape once we’ve found your soul, and soon, you’ll end up back in the same place.
A cold shiver courses through me. I heard those words whispered during the weeks I was trapped.
Panicking, I turn away, but stop mid-turn.
No. I need to go through with this.
Wheeling back around, I inch toward the door, noticing an S carved in the wood right above the doorknob.
No, not Sadie.
My phone buzzes a few times, but I ignore it, needing to go through with this. I wrap my fingers around the metal knob and, with a deep breath, push open the door.
The stench of the room smothers the air from my lungs, heavy and weighted like death. I cough, covering my mouth with my arm as I glance around the small room with caved in walls and a rotting floor. In the middle of the mess is the metal frame of a bed. I can almost picture my sister sitting on it day in and day out, waiting to be saved, but no one ever shows up, and soon she’s taken away to a far worse life than even this.
Tears sting my eyes. I know it isn’t a memory, but thinking about what she must have gone through—is still going through—aches deep inside me like searing hot metal against my bones.
As I veer toward a panic attack, I spin on my heels and rush out of the house. By the time I burst back into the rain, I’m quivering from head to toe as fear pulsates through me. I run down the driveway toward my car, needing to get the hell out of here. Rain pours from the sky and soaks through my clothes as my boots splash through the puddles.
“Excuse me. Do you live here?” A woman wearing a bright red raincoat with the hood pulled over her head is suddenly at the end of the driveway.
I slam to a stop and hurry and wipe my eyes with my sleeve, trying to catch my breath. “No . . . I was just . . . I knocked on the door, but no one answered,” I lie, unsure of what else to say.
She glances at the home then at me. “You know it’s vacant, right?”
“I figured that out, yes.” As casually as I can, I move to the right to swing around her, knowing if I stand near that house for too long, I’ll lose my shit.
“Didn’t the boarded up windows and spray paint kind of give that away?” she asks, sidestepping and blocking my path.
Red flags pop up everywhere.
My eyelashes flutter against the rainstorm as I skim her over. She’s medium height, a little on the thin side, and is wearing black rain boots. Her hood is pulled so low I can hardly see her face, but her voice sounds gruff, like a heavy smoker.
Do I know that voice? Or am I just being paranoid?
Her hair isn’t red like blood, red like the woman who always wanted to touch me. That’s the only sense of comfort I have at the moment, but hair dye can easily fix that.
I duck my head to get a better look at her, but she steps back, stuffing her hands into her pockets.
“You better be careful. This place isn’t safe.” She spins on her heels and runs down the sidewalk away from me.
“Hey!” I call out, hurrying after her.
I don’t know why, but I have this crazy feeling that she might know something.
She picks up her speed as she nears the end of the block. I bring my pace from a jog to a sprint as she makes a left and disappears behind a fence. By the time I reach the corner, she’s gone.
“Shit!” I curse, kicking a street sign.
“Ayden.”
I freeze then turn around, shielding my eyes as I squint through the rain at Lila standing a few feet away from me, wearing her coat and carrying an umbrella.
“I . . . Why are you . . . ?” I look around the street and spot a maroon SUV parked at the entrance of the neighborhood, the same car I thought was following me. “What’s going on?”
“Shouldn’t I be asking you the same question?” She shakes her head with dismay. “Get in the car. We need to talk.”
I look back in the direction the woman vanished. “There was someone here, talking to me. She seemed like she was warning me about something.”
Look at me raw, see the truth in my eyes.
“I don’t know how, but I will, Sadie. I swear.”
Broken promises,
Cracked and ruptured.
Left behind,
Like dust on the floor.
I’m sorry I lied.
I slam on the brakes and strangle the steering wheel as the memory crawls under my skin. Fueled with the need to see what’s hidden in the house, to understand just how badly I let my sister down, I shove the car back into park, fling the door open, and climb out.
Raindrops splatter across my face and drip from my hair as I hike up the lopsided driveway. When I reach the side door of the house, I glance around to make sure no one is around before opening it.
The smell of mold and rot engulfs my nostrils as I step over the threshold and inside what looks like a kitchen. The floorboards groan under my boots as I inch my way into the darkness.
Sticking my hand into my pocket, I remove my phone and turn on the flashlight app to get a better look around.
The cupboards are hanging crooked on the walls, the countertops are torn up, and shards of glass cover the floor.
I carefully maneuver my way through the kitchen and into the living room, the atmosphere growing darker as the outside world slips away from me. To my right is a stairway, but most of the steps are missing. I veer in the opposite direction toward a closed door tucked behind a raised wall. Painted across the wall are words that are way too familiar: Running away is like running in circles. You can’t escape once we’ve found your soul, and soon, you’ll end up back in the same place.
A cold shiver courses through me. I heard those words whispered during the weeks I was trapped.
Panicking, I turn away, but stop mid-turn.
No. I need to go through with this.
Wheeling back around, I inch toward the door, noticing an S carved in the wood right above the doorknob.
No, not Sadie.
My phone buzzes a few times, but I ignore it, needing to go through with this. I wrap my fingers around the metal knob and, with a deep breath, push open the door.
The stench of the room smothers the air from my lungs, heavy and weighted like death. I cough, covering my mouth with my arm as I glance around the small room with caved in walls and a rotting floor. In the middle of the mess is the metal frame of a bed. I can almost picture my sister sitting on it day in and day out, waiting to be saved, but no one ever shows up, and soon she’s taken away to a far worse life than even this.
Tears sting my eyes. I know it isn’t a memory, but thinking about what she must have gone through—is still going through—aches deep inside me like searing hot metal against my bones.
As I veer toward a panic attack, I spin on my heels and rush out of the house. By the time I burst back into the rain, I’m quivering from head to toe as fear pulsates through me. I run down the driveway toward my car, needing to get the hell out of here. Rain pours from the sky and soaks through my clothes as my boots splash through the puddles.
“Excuse me. Do you live here?” A woman wearing a bright red raincoat with the hood pulled over her head is suddenly at the end of the driveway.
I slam to a stop and hurry and wipe my eyes with my sleeve, trying to catch my breath. “No . . . I was just . . . I knocked on the door, but no one answered,” I lie, unsure of what else to say.
She glances at the home then at me. “You know it’s vacant, right?”
“I figured that out, yes.” As casually as I can, I move to the right to swing around her, knowing if I stand near that house for too long, I’ll lose my shit.
“Didn’t the boarded up windows and spray paint kind of give that away?” she asks, sidestepping and blocking my path.
Red flags pop up everywhere.
My eyelashes flutter against the rainstorm as I skim her over. She’s medium height, a little on the thin side, and is wearing black rain boots. Her hood is pulled so low I can hardly see her face, but her voice sounds gruff, like a heavy smoker.
Do I know that voice? Or am I just being paranoid?
Her hair isn’t red like blood, red like the woman who always wanted to touch me. That’s the only sense of comfort I have at the moment, but hair dye can easily fix that.
I duck my head to get a better look at her, but she steps back, stuffing her hands into her pockets.
“You better be careful. This place isn’t safe.” She spins on her heels and runs down the sidewalk away from me.
“Hey!” I call out, hurrying after her.
I don’t know why, but I have this crazy feeling that she might know something.
She picks up her speed as she nears the end of the block. I bring my pace from a jog to a sprint as she makes a left and disappears behind a fence. By the time I reach the corner, she’s gone.
“Shit!” I curse, kicking a street sign.
“Ayden.”
I freeze then turn around, shielding my eyes as I squint through the rain at Lila standing a few feet away from me, wearing her coat and carrying an umbrella.
“I . . . Why are you . . . ?” I look around the street and spot a maroon SUV parked at the entrance of the neighborhood, the same car I thought was following me. “What’s going on?”
“Shouldn’t I be asking you the same question?” She shakes her head with dismay. “Get in the car. We need to talk.”
I look back in the direction the woman vanished. “There was someone here, talking to me. She seemed like she was warning me about something.”
