Page 15 of Where Daisies Breathe

It’s a rational thought to assume no one is home, given the door is locked. And yet, I have this odd feeling that we’re being watched. It could be paranoia. I used to feel that all the time, right after Jason and I split up; that he was still watching me from the shadows.

“We should hurry,” I tell her as I turn for the stairs.

“Definitely,” she agrees as we rush down the stairs.

Our footsteps are soft, but the house is so silent that even the faintest noises echo through the stillness. It brings me back to that memory of the most chilling silence I’ve ever heard.

Snow crunches beneath my shoes…

Blood stains my hands…

Her blood…

Zoey’s blood…

I tried to save her…

But I couldn’t…

There was so much blood…

Blood everywhere…

On her face…

On her legs…

Her arms…

On her back…

Something is on it….

But what…

I gasp as the memory tears through my brain, like an old wound that never fully healed being ripped open again.

Clara slams on the brakes right before she’s about to enter my bedroom. Her head whips toward me. “What’s wrong?”

I shake my head, my throat thick with too many emotions. “I’m just remembering some bad things. That’s all.”

“That’s all?” she questions with a raise of her brow. “Remembering bad things is a big deal.”

“You sound like my therapist.”

“I guess you should listen to us both then.” She pushes the door open and walks inside. “You shouldn’t downplay your feelings.”

“I’m trying not to.”

“Good.” She steps around the trundle bed and makes her way to her suitcase.

I head over to where I left my bag, unzip it, and stuff my clothes into it. “Do you ever do that? Downplay your feelings, I mean?”

“Sometimes,” she answers as she starts folding up her clothes. “I used to do it less when I was younger. It bothered the hell out of everyone. Like, I would seriously tell people to fuck off if they were invading my personal space. That was when I was like twelve.”

I shove a pair of shoes into my bag. “That’s pretty badass.”

“Maybe, but there are some people who don’t like it when kids speak their minds. I had a few aunts and uncles who kept telling my mother that she needed to get me under control.”