I shove the woman out of my path and make my way to the door.
“I’ll be back tomorrow to help collect your things.”
“Thanks, Sandy,” I mumble absentmindedly.
“It’s Sarah—”
My back hits the slammed door before she can finish, sinking to the ground. The coolness of the metal doing nothing for my tingly skin.
I pant, drawing in air as the truth settles.
My worst fear coming to life, I am going to live with my father.
My skin feels hot and itchy. My throat dry as I let out a large yawn before opening my eyes. I must have dozed off while reading.
Tendrils of smoke singe my nostrils and cause my lungs to burn. The vapors now attacking my senses. Hot flames surround me. My eyes sting and I struggle to see the charred areas surrounding me.
The open loft space that once housed oak-framed doorways and large windows draped in sheer soft silks disintegrate. The fire continues its dance around the space, destroying everything within its path.
My breathing grows frantic and rushed as my lungs struggle for fresh air. My vision turning blurry.
I look toward the exit in a panic. Spotting clear translucent blue eyes right before I lose consciousness, everything going black.
I sit up in bed, sucking in a sharp breath. My chest pounding This was the first time that nightmare visited me in years. Taking long breaths, my heart begins to beat at a normal rate again.
Throwing the covers off. I shove my feet into my worn Chucks before taking off. I need out. The dusting of stars would have to do for light in the darkness.
My muscles tense as I pick up speed, running for who knows how long before I’m winded and my legs begin to hurt.
I’ve always been good at disappearing. Practically a second nature for people like me.
Lifting the rock from behind the dumpster, I pull out the spare key. The back door sticks, but with a little wiggle, the lock gives, snapping open. Relocking it once inside, I go to the little side closet past the sinks and fold down the small cot.
The burned grease from the fryers tickling my nose as I lie there, never finding sleep.
four
Rory
“Isthisajoke?”The words fly from my mouth at seeing who stands at the top of the steps waiting for me.
The spacious, French Normandy-style mansion looks the same as I remember. Formidable, cold… lifeless. What terrible secrets fill those beautiful walls.
I reach for my wrist. One, two, three, checking to make sure all the bracelets are still securely hanging on. The single silver medallion dangling from the middle. Comforting me. The worn, braided fabric never taken off.
Today’s emotions stretch thin. I had an itch to leave while the dark SUV still sat running on the other side of the fountain. I’d be doing Abram a favor, running off.
It’d be a long trip back to the block of tin you could call a trailer, but I’ll do it if I need to. Even if I’d be okay never seeing it again.
The hardest part of the day is having to say goodbye to Alma. Red-rimmed, puffy eyes greeted me when I showed up at the diner. Squeezing me extra tight before she let me go to grab my plane with what’s-her-face. Sandra?
Her jumbled mess of a goodbye echoing my thoughts, looking at my new reality. My life like a snowball. Starting off with just a dusting of snow, each year falling harder until one day it gives. The buildup hitting after seventeen years, an avalanche dead ahead.
Welcome to my existence. I’ve survived worse.
Ten steps. I count, stalling to annoy her. Her face twists and I smirk, wanting to applaud. Guess she still isn’t a fan.
“Lorna…” My voice dies as I climb to the top. Not risking her having the upper hand by being at the bottom.