Dark Secrets (Dark Secrets #1)(158)
Author: A.M. Hudson

Down below, nestled into the long, yellow-tipped grass in the backyard, the oak tree sat gloriously, staring back up at me. As many times as we’d studied each other, I had also let my heart skip a beat, expecting to see David beneath its leafy bows. But, for some reason, as I watched the gentle motion of the rope swing, absently touching the brittle bark for a second before floating along the wistful breeze, I felt none of the surprise, the ache, that he wasn’t there. The only thing present in my heart was that warm feeling I had in Mike’s arms last night, which suddenly burned into a flaming heat.

With a tight fist, I rubbed my chest and grabbed the edge of my desk to remain upright. Was it possible that Mike managed to crawl his way a little bit deeper into my heart while I was sleeping? Could it be possible that my brain finally understood the fact that David was gone—that even tomorrow, when I looked for him on the stage where he should be performing our duet, I wouldn’t see him? Did I finally get the message?

I backed away from the window, clutching my locket, and turned to face my dresser mirror, studying the girl staring back at me. “He is gone, isn’t he?” she said. Well, I think she did, anyway.

“Yes.” And I knew he wouldn’t return for anything. Not for the concert, not for all the tears in the world, not if Skittles got stuck in the tree, and not even if I threw myself from the window and splattered all over the ground.

David Knight was gone—for good.

But I didn’t feel anything. Nothing. I should’ve be crying or kicking things. The admission of fact should’ve changed something in me. Anything. But it didn’t.

The girl in the mirror looked out at me; I looked away. That reflection told a different story to the reality of the world behind me. My room was light and airy, with the softness of summer morning all around, while her world—the world beyond the glass—was a dark forest, backdrop to the face of this lonely girl, trapped, staring out from beyond her prison of secrets. Love was the key—my starry night, my David—but he left.

I remembered back to the day I first thought of him as the night, and how, in that same thought, I smiled for Mike because he was always my blue sky; my happiness.

In the mirror, the contours of the girl’s face became shadowed as the sun rose around her, light touching the darkest shadows of her illusory cage. The iron bars behind her dissolved into white tree trunks, and the leaves became visible as green star-shaped foliage for the first time.

Blue sky. The night was gone now, but there would always be the blue sky.

But was it enough?

I looked away from her again, seeing her hopeful smile dissolve before I turned my head. The roar of thunder all around me became the obvious call of the ogre; I clutched my hand across my belly and listened to his cries for nourishment. The last thing I wanted was to go downstairs and have breakfast with Mike. The feeling, the desire to hold onto him, to make sure I never lost him like I did David, burned in me; I was sure I’d tell him I love him and ruin everything when I changed my mind again as the night descended.

I needed to think. I needed to let it all sink in. I felt catatonic, empty, hollow. Afraid, because the feeling in me—of not feeling anything—felt like suddenly waking up deaf.

“Run,” the girl in the mirror said.

“Run?” I looked back at her.

She smiled and nodded. “Run.”

A sneaky tempo guided my steps as I passed the dining area where Vicki and Mike sat laughing and drinking coffee. Then, without first eating, bolted out the front door.

My shoes tapped the pavement softly at first, but as I reached the end of the drive, they picked up. I zipped my sweater around my neck—trapping my locket inside. It wasn’t cold, but for some reason I felt exposed and naked. Like I was being watched or followed. I think a part of me knew that if Mike caught a glimpse of me running from the house without him, he’d come after me. And I really didn’t want that. I really needed to be by myself for a while.

There was a part of me that kept trying to believe the reason David hadn’t come was because he’d been held up at work or hadn’t realised how much time had passed since we last spoke. But the part of me that knew David also knew he wasn’t that absentminded.

Fact was, he wasn’t here because he had no intention of coming back.

Feeling unbelievably weak and tired, I beelined for a park bench and graced the seat with my bottom. The leafy shade of the tree felt nice, almost protective. I looked around the park at the children playing in the distance—the moms and dads pushing their kids on the swings, and even the big sisters running to their little brother’s aide when they fell over or got sand in their mouths. It made me miss Harry—miss being a big sister.

I flopped back on the backrest with my chin tilted to the cool breeze and let my troubles consume me. The only moisture left in me now was the salty, sticky mask of sweat the wind was drying off my brow. I still loved the way a breeze felt on my face, though; it took a month for my wounds to heal enough that I’d let Dad take me in public—on a plane, over to his home. My days were spent in a motel, in the dark—away from civilisation. I never even let Mike see me. Dad tried to let him in once, but I screamed and freaked out like I was going to tear myself apart. I couldn’t let him see me like that. I felt so ashamed—felt like a monster, and worse—looked like one.

By the time Dad brought me here, there were only a few yellowing bruises left, and I could bear the wind on my face—never to take it for granted again. It brushed my hair over my cheek in a tickly touch, like a thousand butterflies dancing on my skin, and in the simplicity of the sunny day, surrounded by trees and grass, I could almost imagine I had no problems. Even the song of the birds seemed to have a tune to it, like I was in some twisted version of a Disney film. I half expected the woodland animals to gather at my feet as I broke into song.

For the first time in weeks, I lowered my head and took a good look at my fingers. They were my mum’s hands, but they were bony and looked weak now. Heartache had taken the spirit from them, and though I wanted nothing more than to find the nearest piano and expel the song I’d had stuck in my head all morning, I wondered if I could truly play—for the feel of it—from the heart, anymore.

I slumped back on the bench again. I didn’t even know what was in my heart now. I used to be sure it was Mike, then it knew nothing but David.

Now they seemed to share a little piece each.

When my stomach growled again, I checked the watch Sam gave me for my fifteenth birthday—the sport watch he told me was to help time my runs so I’d realise I wasn’t as fast as I thought—and smiled, unable to see the time through a sudden rush of tears. He was a good little brother—Sam. As much as I hated him sometimes, he was my brother. And in my heart, I’d never really let myself believe that. But I was still a big sister, and though no one would ever replace Harry, I knew that if anything ever happened to Sam, he’d be just as irreplaceable.