C O M P L E T E - first draft.
7x featured story.
Undiscovered Gem, Romance Ambassadors, January 2025.
Ambys 2024 Favourite - Mystery & Thriller
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I don't register what comes first--Mum's screams and curses, or the searing pain that perforates...
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September 11th
C A R M E N
I open the front door to my house and make my way inside, wiping my feet on the mat before stepping on the freshly mopped floor.
This morning, I dropped my car off to Zachary at the garage. He was hard at work changing a set of tyres so we had little time to chat as I passed him my keys. Once done there, I headed to the dance school to complete some of Mindy's paperwork for a few hours before walking back home.
After closing the door behind me, I stop at the mantelpiece and look into the mirror overhanging it. With chipped nails that are desperate for a manicure, I brush my hair behind my ears.
The bruises on my neck still glare at me, but are now more of a brown colour than deep purple. I grimace at the sight of them, recalling how they came to be. Thankfully, Zachary has not questioned me about them again—I hardly feel stable enough for that conversation at the moment.
Dad and I haven't spoken since he strangled me. Every time I hear his office door open, I scatter away to another room, afraid of what he may do if I get on his bad side again.
But I know if I'm going to find Cory, I'll need to confront him soon.
My stomach grumbles, rousing me away from my thoughts. Lately, I haven't been able to stomach much food without feeling sick, but I've been attempting to eat small amounts.
I walk away from the mantelpiece and into the kitchen-diner. My parents are nowhere to be seen, but several coffee cups sit next to Mum's locked laptop, so I assume she must have been working here a little while ago.
Scurrying around the kitchen, I gather the ingredients to make myself a cheese sandwich for lunch. It's simple, but plain food is all I have an appetite for at the moment. I unwrap the fresh loaf of bread that was delivered with our groceries this morning and reach for the knife holder to grab the bread knife.
But when I clasp hold of the sharp object's handle, I notice something harrowing.
Our largest kitchen knife is missing.
I check the dishwasher, but it's not in there. It's also not in the sink waiting to be washed up.
It's gone.
Mum and Dad are such perfectionists—they'd misplace nothing by sheer mistake, nor would the cleaners who come in several times a week. There must be a reason it's missing.
The kitchen door swings open, causing me to jump. I glance toward the doorway and meet eyes with Dad. "Carmen," he says in a flat tone as he enters the room, with Mum following just behind him.
"I was just leaving," I say in a garbled voice. I move to brush past my father and return to my room, forgetting about my cheese sandwich. But Dad grabs my arm and I jolt backward.
