AWCN - Chapter Two - Welcome to Winterbury

Chapter Two

Welcome to Winterbury

What she’d seen remained on a sickening repeat cycle until she spotted the bank of buildings to the left illuminated by the eerie glow of floodlights. There was nothing else around, not a house, a shop, nothing.  A large sign at the roadside indicated they had arrived at Winterbury College.

The college was set smack dab on remote moorlands. The car swung up to a set of back iron gates, easily the width of six buses. The gates were held up by weathered grey stones, and guarded by creepy looking gargoyles. The dumb ass henchman inspected the stone from the open car window, presumably looking for some sort of intercom. Zephira’s jaw felt as though it was about to snap because her teeth were clenched so tightly together. Bile rose to her throat as the gates slowly creaked open.

Her breathing quickened when she spotted frown lines worrying the henchman’s forehead in the rear view mirror as he peered out of either side vehicle before driving through the opened gates. The tyres crunched across the gravel toward the school entrance where a tall slender figure loomed at the top of the front steps. Her face was illuminated in the burnt orange glow of the floodlights.

Zephira inspected the building surrounding the lone figure, but her eyes constantly drew back to the women. The woman’s face appeared to be etched with lines that matched the gargoyles that were carved into the stone around the twelve foot wooden doors, with cliché black metal studs lining the joins.

Zephira’s stomach lurched repeatedly, her hand flying to sooth it with a rub as the henchman grunted toward the backseat after bringing a car to a halt. She glared at the woman she guessed was waiting for her, but the woman stared straight ahead, unflinching and seemingly unaware of the car stopped at the bottom of the stone steps below.

“Go on then, love. I ain’t got all day.” The driver grumbled, making her tense, aching shoulders shoot up. She was like a great big ball of nervous energy, and no matter how many times she willed herself to relax, it just wasn’t going to happen. He growled and her fists balled in response, her shaky fingers searched for the door handle in the fear that she really would give the driver something to grumble about, like a smack in the back of the head.

The figure at the top of the stairs still didn’t move at the sound of the car door opening. She became disinterested in the building and focussed on the woman, unsure if she was actually a statue and a part of the weird décor.

The rush of the icy September air flooded Zephira’s nostrils and her shoes hit the gravel, still the woman remained as still as stone. She headed for the trunk to collect her belongings seen as the driver didn’t seem as accommodating as he’d been in front of her mother by shifting her bag to the car. With her single piece of luggage slung over her shoulder, she headed up the twenty or so steps that the figure stood at the top of.

“Ahh, good evening. You must be Miss. Laceby?” The woman’s voice was a nasal whine. The formidable female statue seemed to have been motion activated as she’d become closer, her head dipped along with the greeting. Zephira peeked behind her at the car that was moving away from the building, the bottom of the steps weren’t that far away. It wasn’t as if the woman wouldn’t have seen or even heard her arriving. Zephira shifted from one foot to the other, uncertain if the chilly weather was giving her the heeby jeebies, or whether it was the woman.

“Well young lady?”

Zephira flinched, not expecting of her voice that was pitched higher than her initial question.

Zephira cleared her throat and attempted to maintain eye contact with the woman’s avid stare. Her eyes were a weird grey colour and her clothes were willowy and black with a collar that came up to her throat before it curled out a little. Zephira glanced behind herself again checking that she hadn’t stepped through some sort of time warp.

Zephira’s breath caught in her throat, scratching at it and rendering her speechless. She quickly nodded as the woman’s mouth opened to speak again, and judging by the disapproving look on her face her words weren’t going to be of the welcoming variety.

The woman raised a brow and clasped her hands together in front of her. “Very good. Follow me.” The woman spun and took large steps toward the gigantic arched oak doors.

Zephira struggled to keep up with the woman. Her mind reeling that she hadn’t even bothered to introduce herself. Her confusion morphed to anger. “Where the hell are you taking me?” It was only a second later that she realised she’d spoken, she thought that it had stayed inside her mind which is fully where she had intended it to remain. The woman stopped dead and spun back to face Zephira’s reddened cheeks.

“I beg your pardon, young lady.” She flashed a sickening smile as though she’d fully expected Zephira’s minor outburst.

Zephira balled her fists, her cheeks burning fiercely. “You heard me,” Zephira muttered through gritted teeth figuring that it had escaped her mouth so she may as well stand by her question.

“You’re going to be processed into the school the same way as everyone else is.” The woman spoke calmly but firmly.

“And what the hell does that involve?” She raised her voice a little trying to tone down the anger that she could feel bubbling ferociously.

“You ought to watch your language, young lady.”

Zephira huffed and squeezed her eyes closed, if there was anything she hated it was being referred to as a young lady. She knew she was anything but that.

“I don’t even know why I’m here,” she whined, again a comment she’d meant to internalise but failed. Zephira shook her head trying to fathom what on earth was it with this woman that forced her to voice her thoughts?

“I’m scared.” There she went again saying the precise thought that popped into her head as soon as she’d thought it.

“I know, dear.” The woman’s entire face softened as she unclasped her hands to place one on her shoulder. “First you’ll meet the headmistress.” Her face rearranged back to stony in a nano second as though she’d suddenly remembered her persona should be stern. “Come along, it’s getting late and there’s much to do before bed.”

Zephira didn’t even get chance to ask what it was that they’d be doing because the woman strode through the doorway into a cavernous stone entrance lined with polished dark wooden doors on either side of an enormous sweeping staircase. The place was eerily silent as though her and the weird woman were the only ones there. Zephira struggled to keep up, her bag feeling heavier and heavier as she ventured up the staircase. The tapping of the woman’s heeled shoes banged through her brain until she stopped abruptly outside of a large door.

“Wait there.” The woman pointed at a dark wood bench cushioned with red velvet upholstery.

Zephira’s bag slammed on the floor beside the bench at the same time as the office door closed behind the woman.  She slouched down on the bench and glared between the balcony spindles at the wooden chandelier hanging above the great entrance hall below. She sighed heavily in an attempt to break the deafening silence of the place. The bare walls freaked her out, she wondered how the hell people didn’t get lost because everything looked the same. The bare stone walls and dark wooden doors were uniformly spaced out along the wall about four metres apart. Where was everyone? This was meant to be a school. You could have heard a mouse fart in there because it was so silent. She almost suffered whiplash when the door reopened and she saw a short dumpy lady with thick grey hair bundled glamorously on top of her head.

“Good evening Miss. Laceby. Please join me in my office.”

Zephira had already jumped to her feet as soon as the door had opened. Everything so far had been weird, her stomach churned and her mouth was so dry. She suddenly wished she’d eaten something in the last few days instead of throwing a tantrum and going on a hunger strike, well, that’s what she’d called it, but really she just didn’t think she could stomach anything. Zephira stepped slowly toward the lady but her eyes darted toward her luggage and she held up a palm to stop her entrance. “Bring the bag, too.”

Zephira looked up and down the empty corridors, it was hardly as though anyone was going to steal it, the place was deserted. She shrugged, rolled her eyes and snatched it up charging through the now empty doorway.

“Are you at least going to tell me why I’m here?” Gees, why the hell do I keep coming out with this stuff? She asked herself, glaring at the woman who’d she’d met on the front step as though she was suspicious that she had something to do with speaking her thoughts out loud. The grey haired lady positioned herself behind a desk on the far side of the room, her back was to a window lined with lead crisscross shapes and a plush red captains chair awaited her bottom behind her.

The grey haired lady pushed her fists onto the desk and leaned on them, peering at Zephira with pursed lips. “I see you’ve met Miss. Williamson, she will be your main tutor here. If you should have any issues then it’s her you’ll need to make an appointment to see. I do hasten to add that you may speak with any tutor if you feel the need to. I am the head mistress, Miss Crowther. We want to help you to get better here.

“Why are you saying that? Better? There’s nothing wrong with me.”

“We are quite aware of what’s been happening at home. We believe you coming to the United Kingdom, no matter the perceived main reason, was so you could attend this school and we could help you achieve your potential.”

“There’s nothing wrong with me.” She insisted, slamming her bag to the highly polished floor. She stood straight, fighting the urge in fan her burning cheeks.

“Quite.” The grey haired lady spoke in a whisper. “Lift up your cuffs, Zephira, show us how well you’ve been.”

Suddenly she was staring at the bag before her feet, her mothers face looking all serious, the strip lights of the hospital corridor whizzing by above her head as the trolley from the emergency room rushed to the cubicle, the doctors and nurses calling out requests as the pressure on her wrists became too much to bear and she struggled against them wishing for a different kind of light. “Daddy,” she whispered, not just then but there in the school office right in front of Miss. Williamson and Miss. Crowther.

“We know, Zephira, we know, and we’re going to help you see exactly what you can be so you never have to consider doing anything like that again. I’m sorry but we need to move on to the formalities now. Please bring your bag to my desk.”

Zephira’s head snapped back and her eyes narrowed. “What the hell do you want with my bag?”

“We need to check for yours and everyone else’s safety that you’re not bringing anything here that could harm you or anyone else.”

“Well, there’s nothing in there.” She huffed and folded her arms across her chest in a stance of defiance.

“Then there shouldn’t be an issue with allowing us to take a look then should there? Besides we also need to produce an inventory of your belongings.”

“Shit,” she hissed. “This really is the nut house isn’t it?”

Both teachers glared at her stony faced, not a flicker of shock marred their features. Seeing that she had no choice, she lifted up her bag, took three steps forward and flung it on the desk.

“Thank you.” The grey haired lady turned to Miss. Williamson and said, “Shall we?”

Miss. Williamson rose with the grace of a peacock in full bloom and proceeded to unzip the bag. Soon the contents were laid out. The bottle of vodka she’d wrapped up neatly within a bundle of clothing mocked her from the center of the desk, Miss. Williamson lifted it and strode to the other side of the room without comment.

“Now that little issue is ironed out Miss. Williamson will take you to your dorm room. Please repack your belongings and follow her. Quick as you can.” She flapped her hand as though Zephira wouldn’t understand the concept of speed without a hand gesture. “It’s getting late.

Zephira’s cheeks still burned from the discovery of her little problem, downing whatever alcohol she could get her hands on seemed less far fetched than taking a blade to herself, so she’d used it to fight the desire. Now, so it seemed, that particular crutch wouldn’t be available to her. She shuffled up to the desk and shoved the remainder of her belongings back into the bag.

“What about my cell?” She asked in a small voice.

“We will call your mother to let her know you arrived safely.” The headmistress mimicked her low voice.

“That’s not what I mean. I mean, I want it back, it’s mine.”

“Winterbury College isn’t like other places, Miss Laceby, if you want things you have to earn them. It really is as simple as behaving and applying yourself to the work you’re given.”

 With that said the headmistress left, her exit clearly marked with the click of the door leaving an air of stony silence behind her. Zephira glanced up to find Miss. Williamson beside her.

“Come along now, Miss. Laceby.”

Miss. Williamson charged along the corridor and down the stairs she’d earlier ascended and headed towards a large dark wood door that appeared to match the one at the front. The chilly Northern English night air bit at her cheeks as Miss. Williamson pulled the door ajar. It certainly explained why the building was so quiet if the pupils resided elsewhere. The orange floodlights bounced off the old stonework of the buildings either side of the gravel courtyard set fifty or so metres back from the school. Miss. Williamson charged on, calling back to Zephira as she stood stock still with the wind blowing around her ears as she gaped at the large buildings. It didn’t look anything like the prison she’d been envisioning in her mind for the past few days, far from it, it even looked palatial to some degree. She took a few strides, becoming irritated by the nasal whine coming from the Miss. Williamson. She followed her through a small door that could have been a servant’s entrance from back in the day it was built. The corridor swept around the corner and away from the door the parquet floors glistened with polish in the dim light and was only marginally warmer than the courtyard they’d just passed through. Her eyes darted, following the sounds of laughter intermingled with a few harrowing screams. No, she’d been wrong, just because it looked like a stately home spa it was anything but, the sounds alone told her that.

Half way down what appeared to be a mile long corridor Miss. Williamson wordlessly turned sharply and started up a set of narrow stairs. Whilst it looked like no expense had been spared on the decoration of the main school this place was quite the opposite. With the exception of a bit of polish on the floor and dimly lit plastic globed light fittings it was bare and uninviting. She questioned whether it was actually cold in there or if the place simply brought about an eerie chill that travelled to the core of her body. Tiredness overwhelmed her as Miss. Williamson turned toward the next set of stairs. “Stop,” Zephira said breathlessly, throwing her bag two steps ahead of her as though it was a disgusting beastie that was about to attack her.

“Whatever is the matter?” Miss. Williamson shook her head with wide eyes as she spoke, when Zephira failed to respond she huffed and glared at her. “It’s not much further so you must continue.”

“Haven’t you guys heard of elevators?” Zephira wheezed, clinging to the banister.

Miss. Williamson rolled her eyes and continued ahead of her albeit seemingly slower than she had previously.

Zephira willed herself to continue as Miss. Williamson disappeared from sight. Breaching the top of the stairs, her breath burned her throat and an icy chill made her aware of the sticky perspiration covering her skin. A hollow pain shot through her stomach and seemed to go through to her back like a spear doused with pain in liquid form as Miss. Williamson pushed the door in front of her ajar and announced Zephira’s arrival with a statement. “Miss. Laceby, please meet your fellow students and room mates.

© L.T. Kelly 2017

Phew, it was a close call this week, but I finally got it out on time! Thanks so much to Victoria Skye...Marianne was the name I had in my head for Zephira's mother, but Mary-Anne it is!

What weird and whacky suggestions can you come up with for a particular item in the dorm room? That's this weeks challenge and I'm looking forward to reading your comments and suggestions.

Have a great week! Thanks for reading :)

L.T. Kelly

AWCN - Chapter One - Meet Zephira

Chapter One

Meet Zephira

Her knuckles gleamed white in stark contrast to the rest of her sun kissed fingers and the back of her hand. Focus, focus, focus, she chanted internally. Her head was bowed so that tresses of ebony curls blinded her vision to the left and right of her. The rapid breaths and chants were interrupted by the sound of the cheap hotel room door opening, and the unforgiving strip light from the corridor spilled in displaying threadbare, tired furnishings inside the room.

“Everything is in the car, we’re ready to go.”

Zephira ignored the monotone voice travelling from the doorway and snapped her head back to glare at her mother. The betrayer. The abandoner. The utter—, her thoughts ceased as Zephira rushed to speak, attempting to maintain an ounce of humility. “So, you’re really making me leave?”

Zephira watched her mother flinch at the sound of her voice. Her words didn’t appear to have made a blind bit of difference because she continued to glare out the darkened hotel window.

“It’s really not my choi––”

Sheer anger propelled her toward her mother. She shrank further into the corner before finally turning to face a fast approaching Zephira. The guy from the doorway stepped forward as though he feared Zephira may actually strike her mother. A damaged pretty little face didn’t equal sell out tours, well that’s what Ted kept saying every time he looked at her like he wanted to slam his fist into her face.  

“Don’t give me that bullshit,” she seethed, her fists balled at the end of her rod straight arms. She backed off, aware the guy was looming ever closer. The last thing she needed right now was to be held in restraint by an idiot like him.

“It’s all your choice.”

Zephira’s shoulders slumped as she took in her mother’s bottom lip, gathered between her teeth and tears glossing her fearful blue eyes. Her mother shook her head slowly.

“The money has all gone, Zephira,” her voice but a whisper. “If I don’t do this tour, we’re both finished.”

“But why there, Mom?” Her eyes widened and she craned her neck toward her mothers face as though studying her features may help her understand better. “It’s like I’m being committed to an asylum or something. After everything that’s happened I could do without being around the loonies and the freaks.” She swallowed hard and managed to regain her composure as she hopelessly tried to reason. That’s all she seemed to do for the last week since they’d arrived back in her mother’s birth country, England. This is where she’d made it as a punk rock singer in her own right before taking a back seat to her father’s singing career. The mere question escaping her lips for what must have been the hundredth time seemed to veil her mother’s eyes, her head turned back to face the murky grey September day and she was lost to her once more. There was no answer. Zephira knew she was condemned to whatever that place was going to bring her.

For the first few days of their visit they’d stayed at her grandmother’s house. That’s when the letter had arrived. None of this school business had been personally explained to her. She’d seen the whole thing unfold in her grandmother’s kitchen from whatever those dreams, visions, nightmares, hellish inflictions were to be classed as.

Her mother had peered down at a courier delivered, thick creamy envelope embellished with a grand coat of arms of purple and gold with angels wings flowing from each side in the top left hand corner. The coat of arms was a thing of beauty, but what it meant was nothing short of grotesque to her.

Zephira’s grandmother had accepted delivery of the wretched envelope and slid it across the kitchen table as soon as her mother had sat down that morning. She’d watched the both of them as though she was occupying the seat between them, unable to input or respond to the conversation they were having about her, ghostlike, unseen and unheard. Her mother had carefully peeled the envelope open avoiding Zephira’s grandmother’s prying gaze as she scanned the page, her frown deepening as her eyes flew from left to right.

“What is it?”

“What does it look like, Virginia?” Her mother bit. Her mom never called her mother, “mom.” She’d always referred to her by her Christian name. Zephira expected that it was because Virginia had never been much of a mother, always choosing a man that flashed her a second glance rather than raising her daughter properly.

Virginia raised an over-plucked brow. “There’s no need to talk to me that. I’m only asking and I do have a right to know seen as it was delivered to my bloody front door.”

“Keep your voice down.” She warned in hushed tones that seemed to escape from between her teeth as she rolled her eyes toward the bedroom upstairs where Zephira’s body lay struggling to escape the kitchen downstairs. “If you must know it’s a letter from a college inviting Zephira to attend. A college for those with challenging behaviour.”

Virginia heavily crossed her arms across her chest and huffed loudly. “Well, you can bloody well forget that. You’ve already asked me if she can stay here.”

Zephira’s eyes widened and her breath caught in her throat as her eyes shot between her mother and Virginia.

Her mother flattened her forearms and palms out on the cheap vinyl topped table, lowered her head and glared at Virginia with the most evil stare she’d ever seen her produce. “Yeah, for a price that is. You want my American daughter who’s never stepped foot in this bloody country to get a job and pay her way to stay in this mouse ridden hellhole while you sit on your backside and drink her wages.”

Zephira trembled, all of this was news to her. Why the hell hadn’t her mom explained the conditions of her stay there?

 “I still hadn’t decided whether going on the road was better for her, or staying here with you.” It looked like she was thinking out loud rather than continuing the conversation.

Virginia’s fist thudded on the table. “Listen here, you gobby little cow. I ain’t no free ride. It’s still better than her going to some loony bin ain’t it?”

“I’m really not sure, because if she stayed here with you it might very well be where she ends up anyway.” Her mother stated flippantly, not looking back at Virginia’s anger etched features.

The thick misty whoosh of icy air flooded her lungs causing her to attempt to sit up too quickly in bed and clutch at her throat, the way it always did when she returned to her body. Loony bin? She can’t send me to a loony bin. It must have been a dream, surely? She spent a solid two seconds trying to convince herself of just that before the echoing of raised voices from downstairs seemed to pour into her stomach causing a violent churn. There was one thing for sure judging from Virginia’s raised dulcet tones; it had been no dream. The crushing pain in her chest, the ache of her throat accompanied by the sickening hollowness forced her running from between the stained Pepto-Bismol coloured sheets of Virginia’s spare room to the equally badly decorated bathroom. By the time she’d relieved herself from the contents of her stomach all had gone quiet in the room below. Gingerly, she stepped downstairs and headed to the eerily silent kitchen. Virginia and her mother were looking away from each other wearing matching scowls, the only proof of the genetics between them. Her mother’s head snapped back at the sight of her lingering in the doorway.

“Get your stuff together. We’re leaving.” She leapt off the chair like a gazelle about to come under attack by a lion.

“What? Now?”

“Yes, now.” She huffed as she barged past.

Zephira remained in the doorway staring at the back of her grandmother’s head wishing that she’d been gifted with mind reading. Were you really planning on sending me out to work? Is that even legal? Was my mother really going to allow that? What the hell is even going on here. Her fingers massaged her temples as if doing so would quiet her screaming mind. Virginia didn’t even grace her with a backward glance, so she traipsed up the stairs to find her mother slinging their belongings back into the suitcase they had come out of the day before.

It was the following day at the hotel before her mother had informed her that she’d be attending, as she put it, a special school for people like her. Under usual circumstances she would have asked what that even meant, but after three years she had a whole host of ideas as to what was being insinuated.

Her mother’s clammy fingers brushing against her forearm pulled her from her reverie and back to the hotel room with the large henchman lingering nearby.

“Look, it’s for one year, that’s all. I promise. Then we can go back to America and forget any of this ever happened.”

“A year?” Her squeal hurt as it escaped her throat. “A year is forever. How do you even know if I’ll be able to escape that place?”

 “Irene went there, she said it’s the best thing she ever did. Places like that never change, and I trust her judgement.”

“Irene?” Zephira’s head jerked back as she recalled the soft, floaty, image of her mother’s best friend who’d also originated from England.

Her mother nodded wildly. “Yes, she told me to apply for you when we started arranging to come here.”

“The absolute bit––”

Her mother’s hand squeezed tighter on her arm. “Stop, and stop now. I’m doing the absolute best I can. Everyone is waiting and it’s time for you to go.” Her mother’s hand left her arm and both arms were around her neck to pull her in for a hug. Zephira stiffened and left her arms to dangle by her sides rather than return the gesture.

She’d failed in getting her mother to see sense, that was the thought on repeat in her mind as the henchman led her out to the sleek black Mercedes hired by the tour organisers for her mother.

Once she was on the backseat with her seatbelt on she ignored her mother tapping on the window.

“Just go,” she whispered to the henchman.

“Your mother wants to say goodbye to you.”

“I couldn’t give a damn.”

He muttered something she didn’t care to catch before pulling away. Tears stung her eyes as she looked back at the woman who’d given up her career, been to every ballet recital and every school concert as she’d grown up. Her mother had nurtured her through everything despite her self-confessed lack of maternal instinct. Her mother’s head was bowed, her arms wrapped around her own waist by the curb side as the car sped away.

Once she was out of sight, Zephira pushed her hips up and fished her phone from her jeans pocket. She only had to type the first three letter of Winterbury College before it flashed up as an option. She selected it and scrolled through the page, she’d spent the last four days torturing herself with the words at the top of their webpage, Winterbury College, for those with challenging behaviour, taunted her from beneath a fancy coat of arms with a centre shield emblazoned with weird symbols, and a scroll with Latin words she couldn’t hope to understand. She huffed and closed the page down, shoving her earbuds in and opting to listen to music instead. Closing her eyes she felt the melody rush over her, calming and soothing her. Music was all she had that could still provide her with comfort.

***

“You’re such an ungrateful bitch.” Ted’s teeth were pulled back and his eyes were narrowed. He stood in the hotel room she’d not long left behind clutching a bottle of champagne. Her mother was perched on the edge of the bed looking tense. This was something Zephira knew she did not want to see. Ted was her mother’s tour manager, and first boyfriend from years back. He’d been trying to get into her mother’s panties since the day her father died three years ago, even Zephira could see that much, but every time she’d brought it up she’d been chastised.

“Screw you, Ted. What the hell do you think I have to celebrate here?”

“This is your chance at getting your career back now you’ve gotten rid of your brat.”

Zephira held her breath as she watched her mother’s angry stare morph to one of unadulterated rage. Her mother leapt off the bed, flinging herself toward Ted with balled fists. A crisp slap rung out. But, it wasn’t by the hand of her mother, it was Ted that had slapped her mother’s face. Zephira screamed, but no sound escaped into the silent room. She grabbed and clawed at the back of Ted’s shirt, but her hands passed straight through his body. Her mother’s palm pressed firmly over the afflicted cheek as Ted shoved her backward onto the bed, dropped the bottle onto the comforter and flung himself on top of her. “Listen, I made you the first time, and now I’m making you a second time.”

“No, no, no!” Zephira screeched to no avail, her body was in the back of the car headed for Winterbury, but her ripped soul was in the room with her mother.

“You’d better start showing me some respect.” He puffed, resting his forearm over her mother’s throat.

Zephira could do nothing other than watch her mother’s nails attempt to claw at his arm, her eyes bulging, and her throat gurgling as she gasped for breath.

***

Zephira’s eyes flicked out, her body still jerked as her hands searched her lap and then the leather backseat of the Mercedes. Yellow light flooded the seat and icy wind cooled her burning face. The henchman was beside the open door of the car.

“Listen love, just send the bloody ambulance.”

Zephira glared up at him. “I don’t need an ambulance,” she managed to choke out. “I need to get back to my mother.”

He stepped back and eyed her warily. “It’s okay, she stopped fitting now.” He spoke into his phone, not tearing his gaze away from her.

 “No. I don’t.” He said as some sort of gruff confirmation.

“Take me back. Now!” Zephira demanded, having a sudden surge of strength. She’d located her phone as was listening to her mother’s phone ringing out, unanswered.

“That’s not the brief I’ve been given.” He slammed the car door shut and climbed back into the driver’s seat.

“You don’t understand. You don’t know what I saw.”

“You didn’t see anything,” he rasped. “You were having a fit.”

“Listen to me, I wasn’t having a seizure. It’s important I go back right now.” Her voice sounded whiney with desperation.

“No chance, we’re only twenty minutes from Winterbury. You’re going there and that’s the end of that.” With his last word he forced the blinker on and screeched the car back onto the highway headed north.

She slammed her back into the seat, the visions of what Ted was doing ate her up inside, her stomach swirled and her throat burned against the nausea that was rested there. By the fifth time her mother’s phone rang out, she finally answered. Her voice was quiet, preoccupied.

“Mom, are you okay? I need to come back. I need to come back now, hang on, I’ll put you on loudspeaker so you can tell this idiot to bring me back.” She glanced down at the screen and hit the button.

“No, Zephira.” Her mother’s voice echoed through the cab. “You have to go. Call me when you get there, or tomorrow. I love you.” Two beeps followed before a devastating silence and an unbearable ache in the centre of her chest.

© L.T. Kelly 2017

I really hope you enjoyed the first of twenty chapters? I'm looking forward to hearing what you think!

Did you notice I didn't name Zephira's mother? I want YOU to name her. Remember she's an 80's rock chick. I want you guys to name her for me. Leave a comment with the name you'd choose for this lady, please. I pick the name from your suggestions next week.

Have a great week, hoping to see you all for the next chapter. Thanks for looking :) 

L.T. Kelly