Prologue

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I used to move into the future, bring it all back
Let it bleed through my fingers, a treasure in my hands
Now I creep out when there's no one about
'Cause they put crosses on the doors to try and keep me out

—Cassandra, Florence + the Machine

Though the sound was muffled by the thick wood of the armoire he'd been hiding in, the shouting downstairs was still audible

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Though the sound was muffled by the thick wood of the armoire he'd been hiding in, the shouting downstairs was still audible. From where Finley was, it was easy to pretend that the noise was coming from the television. He could almost picture his older brother, Salvador, watching a crime drama or horror movie; Sal and their sister RJ loved those and watched them all the time, so the fantasy of it became tangible for a moment. That moment ended when he heard light and rapid stomps, like little feet attached to short legs running, outside his bedroom door. For a second he panicked, his mind coming up immediately with the worst case scenario. The panic melted away into confusion when Finley heard two hesitant knocks on the armoire's doors. Puzzled, he let out into the stuffy air, "it's open."

His sister's face swam into view - shadowed at first, before his eyes were able to focus on it in the faint light. She looked out of breath and her face was red. He unconsciously shuffled back further into the armoire and tried to get a hold of his own breathing. She didn't say anything but opened the doors wider and sat down next to him inside. "You 'kay?" he asked after a few seconds of silence.

"Yes. Fine," she cut out. One of her hands went up to scratch her cheek, which is when Fin noticed that only half of her face was red. "Super-bitch," was her only explanation. He didn't need her to tell him that - he had all the evidence he needed for that being screamed downstairs.

After a few moments passed, she pulled her own legs in and shut the door, ensconcing the two of them in the safe dark. He shifted around in the suddenly-cramped space. They eventually managed to maneuver their legs into a comfortable position. Jeri hummed under her breath. It wasn't a lullaby, but it was almost calming enough to distract him from the shouting. He realized after a few minutes it wasn't just the song that had distracted him, but that the shouting had stopped. Before he could even think of it, Jeri opened the door and climbed out of the armoire. After standing outside for a few seconds, she blinked in the unexpected lack of light. The sun had gone down while they'd hidden, and the house had grown quiet. She reached for his hand in the closet and pulled him out, and he realized that he felt remarkably better than he had earlier. His heart had stopped pounding achingly in his chest, even if his small body was cramped.

It was silently decided that they'd both sleep there, on her top bunk. It felt right and natural to curl around each other for comfort. Fin could almost relax enough to fall asleep.

As he began to drift off, a loud banging from somewhere close by had him sitting up with a yelp and thwacking his head on the ceiling. He fell back with a pained cry while Jeri immediately slid off of the bed and climbed to the ground, on the alert. When she made no noise after a few seconds, he peeked over the edge of the bed and saw to his astonishment that his massive, almost two-hundred pound antique hiding space had fallen away from the wall and toppled over. He could probably have done it with his sister and brother's help, and a bit of leverage, but no one had been there to do it. He saw his sister staring down at the thing, still and quiet. Before he could open his mouth to ask a question, a sharp, angry staccato of footsteps outside his door almost had him crawling out of his own skin in fright.

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