‘Good idea,’ William mutters, not bothering to look back at me. A few metres. Then a few metres more. Adrenaline surges within me, my mind sharp.
It’s spring. The field is flooded with bright yellow dandelions. Just like every year. I pass a large tree; the same tree I once fell out of years ago breaking my arm. I can see the wire fence in the distance, a fence that I know is broken in the bottom right corner, with just enough room for one human girl.
With the slightest glance back at the demons, my feet jolt into action. I slide down dips, jump over rocks and scramble under the broken fence to the other side. All in a swift and purposeful sequence of motions. Timed and practised like it had been done several times before.
As I reach the highway, I glance over my shoulder. Nothing. A surprising pang of guilt nips at my insides and I resist the urge to think of Xander. Internal frustration wells, irritated by my own feelings. They aren’t my friends. I don’t belong there.
My feet take the steps they need to, pushing forward with conviction. With the right moment, I run across the road, the threat of cars seeming less scary now when compared to human-eating creatures and soul-taking monsters. I pull the hood up of my jumper and blend in with the scattered townspeople that disperse like ants at the crossing. It’ll be harder to find me this way. I hope. The daily habit takes control and I follow my usual path home from school, darting through a train station gate on the tail of a stranger. Not something I usually do but I’ve heard it said that desperate times call for desperate measures. And I don’t have any money to pay for a ticket.
The carriage screeches and sways as it travels down the tracks to the last stop on the line. A rocking motion that might even lull me into believing that this is just a normal day and everything’s the same as it ever was. But a quick glance through the window at the perpendicular carriage reminds me otherwise. A shadow sits poised and proper on a seat, long limbs and a long face stretch down to the floor. Holding my nerve, I look away as if in a daydream. Something I’m used to doing for the last few years but this time it’s different. The creature is more detailed, more real. I can see the swirling of the shadows that make up his essence and the features of its face, hollow and empty. Is it just because of the things I’ve seen and experienced recently or is it something more? Either way, the harrowing truth shudders down my spine, establishing itself firmly in my gut. They’re real. This whole time, they’ve been real.
The train comes to an unbalancing halt, its automatic doors opening with a gentle rattle. Rising to my feet, I blend into the crowd of passengers exiting the train and consecutively the station. The being rides the train back the way it came, ignored by those around it.
After a few minutes, I arrive at the end of my street, my legs weakening at the prospect of finally returning home. With a last burst of energy, my feet race against the concrete. It’s just a few houses more. Three houses more. Two houses more. One.
Here.
The small townhouse stands where it has always stood, its old rusted rails and steep stairs greeting me like an old friend. A train shuttles by in the distance, its doors clanging as they close. My heart feels like it might just burst, every emotion welling up in me right at this front door.
Nothing has changed. The ugly lemon-coloured flower pot is still perched on the windowsill where I had sat it before I left, but now, scorpion grass grows brilliantly, its bright blue flowers reaching up to the sky. Without hesitation, I try the handle. Locked. I glance to the driveway, a car parked diagonally without much care. Mum. I knock. The same knock I have always had since I was young.
The door opens and my breathing stops. A man with a dishevelled appearance stands wide-eyed at the door.
‘Dad!’ I yell, bursting through the entryway, arms outstretched. I embrace him, tears threatening to make an appearance. He’s the same as when I last saw him, uneven stubble and tired bags under his eyes from working long shifts at the warehouse. My overflow of emotions pauses, picking up on the uncomfortable silence. I don’t know what sort of reaction I was expecting from my parents, suddenly appearing at their doorstep after months of disappearing without a trace, but I know it wasn’t this. The reaction feels so cold that I doubt my own mind. I let go of him with a recoiling movement. It is my father, right? I look up. I know that face, I know the twitching brow, the dropped mouth and the clenched teeth. My heart drops. He looks stunned, an uneasy panic.
‘Who is it, honey?’ my mum calls from the kitchen, the smell of her burnt cooking wafting through the living area. She only gives cooking another go when she’s had a good day and in high spirits, motivated like she’s sure nothing could go wrong, even insisting that she won’t burn the food this time. Weird thing to do when her daughter has been missing for months, even for her.
‘Uh, not quite sure,’ my dad yells back, smiling awkwardly at me.
‘That’s not funny,’ I say, passing this whole situation off as a disturbed joke.
‘Oh, uh, I’m sorry. I think you may have the wrong house…’ Dad desperately fumbles. My mum pops in from the side of the archway, spatula still in hand.
‘Oh, hello there,’ she says as friendly as ever, the type of polite tone she reserves for strangers. ‘Can I help you?’
Their eyes look into mine with a distant nervousness. They think I’m crazy, and I’m beginning to feel it.
‘I’m sorry,’ I choke out, trying my hardest to not let my voice strain or quiver. ‘I think you’re right. Wrong house, how embarrassing.’ The words barely escape my lips before I turn away, hiding my expression from the couple.
‘That’s okay, lovely. Do you need us to call anyone for you?’ Mum says, taking off her mittens and placing them on the counter. I shake my head, swallowing hard. They are the people I would have called. Slowly, I trod down the stairs, anger boiling like liquid fury in my veins. I know they did this, that’s why they let me escape. I’m such an idiot. Of course I didn’t outrun them, they just didn’t see the point of chasing me, not when they know I can’t go home anyway. But I’m not going back to them either. That’s just what they want. My parents keep watching me. I feel their gaze on my back, waiting for me to be out of sight before they can continue on with their lives.
A street lamp flickers on, signalling the arrival of night in the small suburban town. The hard wooden planks dig into my tailbone as I sit horizontal on the bench, feet up against one end of the rails and head resting against the cold metal of the other. At least I know where I am. That’s a positive. I’m a human in the human world, where I’m meant to be. My eyes sting as I rub them. I’ve had enough of crying – there’s no point in doing it anymore, especially not when I think the demons might be watching. As crickets begin to chirp in the surrounding park, I rest my eyes, letting darkness creep over.
Footsteps and laughter erupt from around the corner. I open an eye slightly. My heart skips a beat at the familiar face. Gracie. A friend from school.
The short girl with a curt temper and sweet smile emerges from around the side of a nearby building, giggling profusely. Dressed in fitted blue jeans that accentuates her curves and white platform heels for added height, she walks right past me. Her knitted pullover hangs off the shoulder, the kind of thing she wears on a night out. She hangs off the arm of another known face, Tony Hails, a boy in our class. Leaning across, she lands a kiss on his cheek. My eyebrows raise almost on their own. That’s a new development. Last time I checked, she told me he was gross. Not that I care, but I do appreciate consistency, or at least honesty.
Suddenly stopping in her tracks, she breaks away from his arm, our eyes meeting as she peers back. For a moment, I allow myself hope. Tony stalls, intertwining her fingers with his, giving her a puzzled look. ‘What?’ he remarks, glancing back at me and then her.
‘It’s just…’ She lowers her voice but not low enough. ‘Do you think we should give her money?’ It takes a lot of strength to not groan out loud but I appreciate the sentiment, and know that at least from Gracie it comes from a place of kindness.
Tony whispers something in her ear that makes her chuckle. She nudges him playfully. ‘Don’t be mean,’ she hushes, curling her blonde hair in a way that causes me to scowl. The appreciation is gone. Gritting my teeth, I pull my hood over my head and turn away. The young couple walk off arm in arm, looking dreamily into each other’s eyes. I gag, just loud enough for them to hear, then settle back in, curling up on the park bench.
At some point despite the cold, I fall asleep which is good while it lasts as waking is not quite as sweet. My entire body aches from the rough night. Stretching, I let out a long slow breath, watching it fog out into the morning air. I rise from the bench, my shoulder slamming into the body of a stranger. ‘Oh, sorry,’ I say, making a fast pass by them, my hood still drawn to block the cool wind.
‘Siara?’ A firm hand grabs my arm and from instinct, I shake it off, alarmed. ‘Is that you?’
Adrenaline surging, I stumble a few steps back. Our eyes meet. Deep blue eyes like the ocean itself stare wide back at me. ‘Rye.’ He beams a wide grin, his dimples forming on either side of his face. He runs his fingers through his blonde hair, before immediately pausing.
‘Where the hell have you been?’ he yells, attracting attention from early morning pedestrians. I flinch, but a relieved smile contorts on my face.
‘You remember me?’ I breathe, somehow still not convinced. He nods, anger simmering down into concern. My legs finally give way, collapsing me down onto the bench once again. Rye sits down beside me, shaking his head.
‘Where were you? We looked everywhere – there was a search party, helicopters…’
‘Helicopters?’ I laugh. The unexpected hurt on his face catches me off guard. ‘Sorry.’
‘We thought you might have… your parents, you should go see them they are so–’
‘They don’t remember me.’ I bring my knees up to my chest.
He pauses, long enough for me to realise he’s not surprised. Rye releases a sigh, looking down. ‘Them too now. I don’t understand why this is happening.’
Heret-Kau. This situation stinks of her interference.
Rye glances at me uneasily. He pulls out a water bottle from his bag and passes it to me. A quiet kindness that is surprisingly touching. ‘You know you still haven’t told me where you were. After that storm, you were just gone.’
