Page 23

My phone stays quiet. The silence stretches around me, the air thick with it. The longer it lasts, the further something inside me slips. Dread settles in my gut, cold and certain, because I know how people disappear. I know how quickly things can go wrong. I know what it feels like when the world starts taking things from you.

I don’t like her stepfather, and I don’t like her in that house with him.

Gripping the bag to stop its swinging, I lean my weight into it, breathing hard. Why would she ghost me? I run both hands through my hair, tugging until it hurts. It doesn’t help. The silence keeps spreading, filling every corner of the basement like rising water. The worst part of all this is my mind. No matter how many times I hit the damn bag, I can’t stop my thoughts from turning dark.

What if he’s done something to her?

After exhausting myself to the point that I’m lightheaded and disorientated, I beeline for the shower and rinse off every bit of sweat and grime from my skin. I scrub my body, wincing as my cuts sting under the water. I run soap over them, enjoying the pain.

Unable to avoid the kitchen any longer, I slowly stroll down the hallway. Heavy smoke fills the air, and a rap song is blasting from the speakers. My father is nowhere to be seen. He’s in his room, I guess. My brother and his friends fill the small loungeroom. The girl from the other night is straddling my brother’s lap. I barely glance her way. She tried that exact move on me, too.

‘Hey, cutie,’ she calls out. I don’t miss the anger swirling in my brother’s eyes. ‘Come hang.’

‘Would rather be hit by a bus, but thanks,’ I reply dryly.

A few of them snicker, earning glares from Kaine. One of the guys on the floor eyes my face.

‘Looks like you already have been.’

Ignoring him, I move through the kitchen. I don’t know why I bother – there’s no food, as usual. Glancing out the window, I see the sky is finally starting to darken. The group calls out to me again, but I slip out the door, letting it bang shut loudly behind me.

I order myself takeaway and eat it by the beach while I kill time. The dark waves crash violently against the rocks. I taste the salt in the air and lean back on the rock, watching joggers and walkers go by.

After I finish eating, I check my phone again, starting to feel angry, and more than a little worried.

Fuck it.

I bring up her contact and hit call. It goes straight to voicemail. I try again. Hissing, I jam the phone back into my pocket and push to my feet. I force myself to wait a moment to clear my head while I finish a cigarette, before I head to her house.

The street is unusually quiet as I walk down it, making sure to avoid nearing any lampposts. The house is completely dark. I stare at it, listening, but it appears that no one is home. Quietly, I pad across the street and head down the side of the house. I peer into the window, seeing empty rooms.

What the fuck?

I climb over the porch railing and silently walk to the back window. Gently, I peel back the flyscreen and push open the window before sliding inside. I use my phone torch for light as I walk through the rooms. My heart plummets to my stomach.

She’s gone.

12

BRYN

Now

I wake to the sounds of clinking mugs and soft voices drifting down the hallway. For a moment, I’m suspended between sleep and memory. Fog surrounds me; I hear pounding footsteps, a masked man whispering my name; I feel his hot breath against my cheek. My heart feels as though it’s beating sideways, but then I open my eyes to find myself in my friend’s spare bedroom. Soft morning light spills through the curtains in thin golden stripes, warming the blankets tangled around my legs. I exhale slowly, trying to calm my racing heart.

It was just Fright Night. Just an actor. Nothing to get worked up over.

Pushing myself out of bed, I throw on a hoodie and pad barefoot into the kitchen. Tess is perched on the counter cross-legged, her hair a mess of curls piled on top of her head. Elodie stands by the coffee machine, humming off-key as she pours espresso into three mismatched mugs.

‘There she is,’ Elodie says, handing me one. ‘Sleeping Beauty, awake from the dead.’

The coffee is strong and hot, and it hits my system in all the right ways. ‘Last night was intense,’ I say.

‘Are you still thinking about the dude in the maze?’ Tess asks.

‘Did you get it on or something?’ Elodie says, waggling her eyebrows.

I choke on my coffee, causing them both to laugh. Leaning my hip against the counter, I attempt to play it cool, but every cell in my body is still buzzing with the memory of him: his warmth, his closeness, the way he said my name like he was waiting for me to recognise him. There was something so familiar and unsettling about his eyes.