Into the Storm: Into the Storm Trilogy Book One Page 4

  Feeling foolish, Beth admitted to herself that when Mike had invited her to the ritual, she’d assumed it was, well... not a date necessarily, but an expression of some kind of interest. Yet sadly that seemed to simply be wishful thinking on her part. And a sign that he was just so kind and lovely that he’d welcomed her into their circle, as Rose and Violet had, because she so clearly needed friends here. Oh god, did he feel sorry for her?

  Desperately she tried to remember what he’d actually said, and turned beet red when she realised his invitation had been totally innocent, a friendly gesture to someone who had been away from the village for two years, and a friend of the family no less. It seemed that it was only her that sized up every guy she met as a potential partner, and only her who didn’t trust people. Who assumed a boyfriend would cheat if he was left alone to talk to another girl for five minutes, in public no less.

  Not that she had, but did this mean that she thought she would cheat on someone, and thus expected that everyone else was capable of doing the same thing? It wasn’t like Mike had been sneaky in any way – he’d told his girlfriend all about her, and let her know that he’d invited her along tonight. Hell, even Violet’s mum knew who she was. And both women had welcomed her with open arms, as a potential friend, and allowed her into their magical circle. And yet here she was, tainting their kindness with her suspicions and bad intentions. What was wrong with her?

  And the stupidest thing of all? She didn’t even want a boyfriend, did she? After the heartache of Andrew letting her down, hadn’t she vowed to be single for a while, to concentrate on making female friends and considering her future? Well, when she wasn’t trying to figure out how to get in touch with her former flame and somehow win him back.

  Besides, Mike wasn’t even her type. He was younger than her for a start, which she’d never liked the idea of. It would be fine in your late twenties or your thirties, but he was still in high school for god’s sake, and at this point even a couple of years seemed like such a huge gap of life experience and maturity. Not that he or Violet came across as young by any means – and really, of the three of them, it was she who had acted the most immaturely in this situation.

  Mentally shaking herself, she met Mike’s eyes. He was offering her friendship, and she knew that was precious. It dawned on her suddenly that before she’d been with Andrew, she would have been honoured to have been considered a friend by these people. His abrupt change of heart had made her suspicious, cautious and paranoid, destroyed her self-esteem, and left her wondering why anyone would like her.

  Although that wasn’t quite fair, she reluctantly acknowledged. Her mother had done all of that to her long before she’d fallen for Andrew, and she’d felt as though she was in competition with her sister – for attention, for love, for praise – her whole life. Sighing, she decided it was time for her to rediscover herself, and to be a person she could be proud of. A person that people would like for who she was.

  “Hi Mike, it’s lovely to see you again,” she began. “Thank you so much for inviting me. I met Violet and Rose, and they’re both so lovely, and so welcoming. As I’m sure you’ve gathered, I haven’t exactly been thrilled to be back in town, so I really appreciate it. You have no idea how good it felt to be part of something so inclusive,” she added, and was embarrassed to hear her voice tremble.

  Mike smiled at her, and she felt a pang of sadness and regret at the openness and innocence of his expression. God, she really wished that she could view the world from such a positive and non-bitter perspective.

  “So what did you think?” he asked nervously, and she was surprised to see worry in his eyes. “It wasn’t too weird for you, was it? I know it’s not everyone’s cup of tea, and I was a little afraid of exposing Rose to ridicule if you thought… well, was it okay?” he finished hopefully.

  “Oh my god, it was amazing,” Beth gushed. “And really touching and inspiring. I’d love to be part of any more ceremonies or gatherings that take place while I’m stuck here, if that’s all right?”

  Chapter 4

  Fear and Loathing

  Rhiannon... Today…

  Finally they were walking up the path to their front door, and Rhiannon trembled with fear as she saw the lights still on. She couldn’t face seeing her father, not right now. Not in her mother’s coat, when there was no way she could explain why she was wearing it. Beth squeezed her hand.

  “It’s okay honey, your dad is out in the kitchen. I’ll go through and see him, and you can go straight upstairs.”

  “Please don’t tell him,” she begged her mum again, as lightning flashed overhead. “I couldn’t bear it if he knew.” She started shaking, and Beth drew her into a soothing hug.

  “I promise I won’t tell him,” she assured her, and although she could see it pained her, Rhiannon knew her mum would keep her word. “It’s your story to tell, and I hope that you’ll feel able to share it soon, so your dad can help you too. But right now you need your own clothes, your own bed. Not more questions, not more retelling and remembering.”

  Sighing with relief, a little of the stress left Rhiannon’s body – then she stumbled on the first step, and would have fallen to the ground if Beth hadn’t caught her. Remembering too late just how weak her mum was, guilt shivered down her spine as she felt her stagger under her weight. God, she just couldn’t do anything right. She was a total mess.

  “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, voice choked, but her mum smiled bravely and shook her head. Taking a deep breath, Rhiannon pulled herself upright and offered her mum a shoulder to lean on, then helped her up the last few steps, through the front door and into the hall.

  “Do you need me to –” she whispered, but Beth cut her off.

  “I’m okay my darling, I promise. Your dad will help me upstairs. Now you go up to bed, and get warm, and try to get some sleep. Everything will look brighter in the morning.”

  Beth kissed her on the cheek then shuffled her way slowly through to the kitchen, where Mike was making school lunches and washing up their dinner dishes. They were such ordinary, everyday tasks, taken so much for granted, yet who knew how many of them she would still be around to take part in?

  Rhiannon stood where she was for a moment, wincing at how painful it looked for her mum to walk even that short distance unassisted. Her heart constricted with fear as she heard her dad asking where she’d been, but Beth did as she’d promised, telling him they’d been out for a hot chocolate, and how wonderful it had been to spend some girl time together.

  Smiling grimly, Rhiannon dragged herself up the stairs and opened her door. Seeing her bedroom exactly as she’d left it shocked her, as though she’d expected it to look different now that she was so changed. Grabbing her warmest pyjamas, she headed down the hall to the bathroom and turned the shower on as hot as it would go. Then she stood under the steaming water, shivering despite the temperature.

  Tears spilled down her face, mingling with the water, as she felt his hands on her again. She’d managed to deceive her mother, to pretend that nothing had happened and she’d been able to save her foolish daughter in time. Save her honour, prevent her shame. But that was a lie.

  Now, with no one watching, Rhiannon leaned against the cold tiled wall and sobbed as each awful moment played itself over and over in her mind. She hadn’t had a chance to reflect on it until now, too busy putting on a brave face in the cafe, pretending she was fine for her mother, pretending she was fine to herself. She wasn’t fine though.

  Her stomach churned as new memories swamped her. And as she recalled the look on his face, the cruel twist of his mouth and the bite of his fingers on her flesh, she bent over and threw up, the milky chocolate drinks she’d gulped down swirling over her feet and down the drain.

  Her shivering became more violent, and although there was soon nothing left in her stomach, she couldn’t stop the retching, or the bitter bile burning her throat. But eventually that passed too, and she slid down the wall and crouched in the tub, hot w
ater still streaming over her, needling her, a kind of pain that was somehow soothing.

  Shuddering again with revulsion, she picked up the soap and scrubbed at her skin, trying desperately to wash away the touch of his hands, the stench of his breath, the bite marks on her neck that made her flesh crawl to think of them. Would she always feel there was some kind of sign above her now, letting everyone know what had happened to her, marking her out and showing the world her shame?

  Finally she became aware that the water had turned cold, but she stayed stubbornly under it, enjoying the discomfort, until her dad knocked on the door and asked if she was all right. After shouting a vague reply, she jumped out and dried herself, then pulled on her pyjamas and brushed her teeth, carefully avoiding the mirror. She couldn’t face the sight of herself, and didn’t want to know if she looked as changed as she felt.

  Back in her bedroom, tension thrummed through her as she walked over to the window and stared out into the raging dark. It felt as though the room was shaking, that the earth was moving under her, but it wasn’t that. It was her.

  The anger rushed through her blood, pounding through her veins, and she felt her heart quaking, roaring, hammering and darkening with deep red rage and quivering purple shame. How could she face her father now? And how could she ever look her mother in the eye again after what she’d seen of her tonight? Her weakness. Her fear. Her total vulnerability. And – there was no way around it – her complete stupidity.

  When Evan’s face flashed into her mind, her blood boiled again, and she sensed before she heard a booming clap of thunder as it exploded overhead, perfectly matching her fury. Saw a bolt of lightning as electric as her emotions crackle across the sky. Listened to a roar of agony that had been torn from a throat or heart she didn’t immediately recognise as her own.

  Her vision was painted blood-red with anger, with danger. A small part of her marvelled at how similar the two words were, how intrinsically linked, but the rest of her was noticing the corresponding flashes of lightning and booming of thunder that hit whenever her emotions threatened to overwhelm her.

  Panic rose in her mind, in her chest, closing tight fingers around her throat, cutting off the air she so desperately needed. She clawed at the invisible bonds, but when she was unable to shift them, she almost laughed. Tonight she had feared she would die in the woods – yet now here she was, about to be strangled by her fear in the safety of her own home. Drowning in this storm that wouldn’t give her even a single moment to come up for air.

  Abruptly she felt herself wrenched from her body and thrown out into the raging downpour. As rain splashed down on her, she struggled to comprehend how she could be outside in the wildness of the storm when she’d been in her bedroom just moments before. Sucking in a desperate breath that seared her throat, she tried desperately to understand what was happening. It didn’t make sense, yet here she was, standing in the back garden in the savage fury of nature, dripping wet, wind battered and rain sodden, and freezing cold.

  The air around her crackled with electricity, and with a growing sense of doom, she somehow understood that a lightning bolt was about to flash across the stormy sky and fry her. Even more scary, she couldn’t bring herself to care. It wasn’t that she wanted to die, but tonight’s events coming on top of her mum’s battle with mortality had pushed her to a dark place she wasn’t sure she could make her way back from, or even wanted to try. It was that part of her that somehow knew that she was the lightning, she was the thunder. She was the storm.

  As she raised her arms to the sky and prepared to become one with it all, the hammering of desperate knocking at her door reached her. She was wrenched back into her bedroom, where she stood by the window, paralysed with shock. How did she get back inside? How had she been transported outside in the first place? How had she created a storm? Fear washed over her, and confusion clouded her mind. She was so totally, terribly scared.

  There was one more bang on her door, then it swung open, and a flash of lightning illuminated the frail silhouette of her mother standing in the hallway, leaning against the door frame, looking even smaller than she had in the cafe.

  “Oh my darling, I’m so sorry,” Beth said, dragging her back from the window and drawing her shivering form into her arms. A shivering form that was suddenly dry. How was she not dripping wet? And what was her mum sorry for?

  “Do you need to talk about it more?” Beth asked softly. “I’m here if you need me. And we can find someone tomorrow, a counsellor or something, if you’d rather not confide in me.”

  Rhiannon stared at her mother, at her gaunt face and black shadowed eyes, and tried to comprehend what she was saying to her, to comprehend what was happening to her, but nothing made any sense. Before she could ask any questions though, her father stuck his head around the door and smiled at her across the room.

  “Hey Rhi, I’m glad you and your mum could have some girl time tonight. And I was thinking, maybe this weekend you’d both like to go over to Smithfield, have high tea at the hotel, go shopping? Brodie and I have been talking about a boys-only fishing trip, although I’m not sure he really understands what that entails, or that we’ll be out in the boat all day. But it sounds fun.” He grinned, not seeming to notice how deathly quiet his wife and daughter were as they stood together in the darkness by the window. “It’s getting late though, so we should probably all hit the sack, yeah?”

  Numbly Rhiannon nodded, and her mum gave her one last hug before she followed her husband out into the hallway.

  “I love you my darling. Thank you for tonight,” Beth said softly. “And it will all be okay, I promise.”

  As her door clicked shut, Rhiannon threw herself down onto her bed and pulled the quilt up over her head. The tears came again, but this time she managed to muffle them, scared that she would wake her brother in the room next to hers.

  For a while she prayed for an escape from the awful images that were playing over and over again in her mind, then she prayed for sleep – but her dreamscape was even more terrifying than her waking visions. During the long night she woke often in panic, then drifted back to sleep before waking abruptly again, until soon she couldn’t tell what was real from what wasn’t, as the awful flashbacks of her time in the woods melded with her nightmares of creatures chasing her and wanting to eat her.

  When she surfaced back to consciousness the next morning, her pillow was wet, soaked with tears, yet her throat was dry and her mouth was parched. Her bones ached too, and her skin tingled and burned.

  The storm had shattered her. She was broken, like fallen twigs, fallen leaves, fallen honour; strewn across the ground, across her bed, across her life. Broken and lost in the wreckage.

  Chapter 5

  The Fault In Her Stars

  Rhiannon…

  For long moments the next morning Rhiannon lay in bed, trying to think of an excuse not to get up. Couldn’t she just stay under the covers for the rest of her life, hide away from the world? After last night’s fiasco, she was terrified of facing her mum, of seeing the disappointment and fear in her eyes, and more embarrassed than she’d ever been.

  But slowly, reluctantly, she dragged herself out of bed, avoiding making eye contact with herself in the mirror again. She picked up the velvet cloak she’d been wearing the night before, wincing as she felt the scratches on her back sting, and scrunched it up tightly, angrily, and buried it under a pile of old clothes she’d never wear again in the back of her closet.

  Then she hastily pulled on her school uniform, choosing the long-sleeved shirt even though it was a warm day. There were bruises on her arms and shoulders from where he’d held her in a vice-like grip, and she was in no mood for explaining, no mood for questions – and in no fit state to see them herself and be reminded of what had happened.

  Not that she needed anything physical to make her remember. Her mind recoiled in horror as she saw his face again as he’d lurched towards her, and her skin crawled as she recalled the sensation of his han
d on her naked waist, pulling her towards him. Desperately she tried to think of something else – but the alternative wasn’t any better.

  The fragility of her mother’s body as she’d sat in the huge armchair in the cafe the previous night, dwarfed by the high-backed brocade and momentarily stripped of her glamour, tortured her. How could the human body be so delicate? So easily ravaged by illness, by injury... by assault?

  “Life is good, people are good. I choose to see the good in every person and every situation,” she muttered, her mind latching on to a mantra she vaguely recalled from a ritual she’d attended with her mother a few months ago. It didn’t seem to help, but she doggedly kept on, repeating it over and over in her mind as she forced herself to pick up her school bag and walk downstairs, dragging her feet and dreading who she would have to face.

  Tentatively she tiptoed into the kitchen – and breathed a sigh of relief when she found it was empty. It took her several moments to realise how weird that was. Where was everyone? Had her clock stopped in the night or something? Shouldn’t her mum be up, forcing a glass of wheatgrass juice down her throat and trying not to gag? Shouldn’t her dad be trying to slurp down one final cup of coffee before he left for the office? Shouldn’t her brother Brodie be spilling his breakfast all over the table and laughing at the comic he was reading?

  Lost in thought, she jumped when she heard a crash from her parents’ bedroom. Her bowl of muesli slipped from her hands, milk splashing all over her uniform before the crockery smashed around her feet, but she didn’t even register it happening before she was running up the stairs. “Mum? Are you all right?” she called out, panicked. “Dad?”

  Her father peered out of their room, face white. “Darling, find the car keys would you? No, wait… um, where’s Brodie?”

  Distracted, she shrugged, her mind racing, before she finally recalled the answer. “Didn’t he stay at Ben’s last night?”