Page 27

Willow

Looking up from the street, I saw the walled front garden I’d found a safe haven in. It was spring and the flower boxes had wildflowers sprouting. The sun glowed off the window and reflected into my eyes so harshly I winced and closed my eyes.

I closed my eyes and took a moment to revel in the warmth of the sun and hummed in pleasure. Somewhere along the street, a dog barked and forced me back into the present.

I pushed the black iron gate open and stepped towards the front door, placing my key in the lock and pushing myself inside. The light of the sun shone into the hallway through the window above the door and warmed the burgundy walls. It felt cosy. It felt like home.

“Jack, I’m home,” I called out, looking for my housemate.

“I’m in the kitchen.” His voice sounded… off, irritated maybe?

Pushing his strange mood to the back of my mind, I removed my bag from over my shoulder, placing it on the console table in the hallway and shrugging my coat off, before hanging it on the coat stand.

I nervously pulled my sleeves down over my hands, keen to tell Jack all about my day, excited even. There was something about Jack – I always yearned for his approval, always needed to see the smile that reached his eyes whenever he saw me or heard me speak.

I passed the welcoming living room, where we’d spent so many days relaxing, eating, and just being.

The kitchen door was slightly ajar, offering a peek to the bright light desperate to burst through the crack, beckoning me closer to the room.

As I got closer, the little hairs on the back of my neck and arms stood up despite the warm day.

It was excitement. It was the same excitement I experienced every time I anticipated seeing Jack.

As I neared the kitchen door to push it open, a hand reached out from my right. Fingers reached around my throat, nails digging into my skin, while the other covered my mouth before I could scream .

I was yanked into what looked like a cleaning alcove, one I’d never paid much attention to if it had even been there before. It was shrouded in darkness, cut off from the main hallway.

My eyes darted around trying to adjust to the darkness, trying to find something to use to protect myself.

A broom. The faint outline of a broom. I reached for it, only for the hand around my throat stop me in my tracks and slammed my face into a wall.

A familiar grunt came from by my ear, and I whimpered as tears began to seep from my eyes.

“Jack,” I sobbed through tears into the hand. Somehow my hands had been tied behind my back, plastic biting into my skin.

“Jack’s not here to save you, little Willow. Remember me?” a whiny male voice sounded, one that haunted me.

“No, plea—”

“There’s no point begging.”

He pulled something out from behind me, from his pocket perhaps and the light from the hallway reflected off the perfect steel blade. My eyes widened with fear, and I started to writhe in his clutch.

“No — please, please don’t hurt me,” I choked out, spit and snot coating his palm. “Jack, help!” I screamed through his fingers.

“Say my name, not his. He can’t save you now.” He raised the knife to my eyeline until I could see the fear in my face mirrored back at me.

“Please, don’t hurt him. I’ll do whatever you want,” I begged.

“If I hear you say his name once more, I’ll slit your fucking throat from ear to ear. Say. My. Name.” He enunciated each word as he pushed me further into the wall.

“Please—”

“You have a final chance before I kill you and finish him too.” Did that mean Jack was already hurt? I had no other option than to give in.

“Cain,” I sobbed into the wall quietly. “Please, don’t do this.”

“Louder little Willow, I want to hear you screaming my name.”

I could barely breathe, my face pushed into the plasterboard so hard I was sure I’d bruise if I made it through.

He raised the knife, and my eyes bulged out of my head as the silver blade closed in on my face.

I sobbed, my throat tearing as I begged – a last, desperate attempt for it to end.

“Willow,” his voice strained. “Willow, I promise you’re safe with me,” he continued, the voice growing softer. “Remember? You’re safe.”

The voice wasn’t one of danger. It was far away. Safe. Home.