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 12th
C A R M E N
It's dark in my room, and my mind is hazy. But the sound of keys jingling as if they're being fumbled into a lock is unmistakable to me despite this. I can't see, so do not know for sure, but I am certain the noise is emanating from the other side of my bedroom door.
Out on the landing. Across the hall. Just a few metres away from where I lay burrowed beneath my bedding.
Where Cory's bedroom is.
I attempt to throw myself from my bed, but I'm stuck flat against the mattress. It's like a weight is pushing down on my chest, stopping me from moving. The keys clatter together some more and the click of a lock opening sounds. I attempt to open my mouth and yell, but it's glued shut. Just like the rest of my body, it refuses to move.
It's Cory. It has to be. He's right there, and I'm helpless. I can't call out to him.
Footsteps emerge—harsh, angry thuds bouncing off the walls. Then voices take their place. The sound of talking reverberates, but I can't make out what's being said. All I can tell is it's a heated conversation, and only growing more so.
I try to shout and fling myself from my bed again, but it's hopeless. The weight still presses down on my chest, holding me captive, and my mouth remains clamped, keeping my words unspoken and unheard.
The arguing grows louder until two male voices, which must belong to Dad and Cory, are screaming at one another. A harsh ringing sound then attacks my ears. It's loud and relentless, only adding to the hellish atmosphere.
Ring.
Heart thudding, I try once more to get up. Yet again, my attempts come to no fruition.
Ring.
My mouth still won't open.
Ring.
The yells reach volumes I did not think possible, and the ringing continues and grows louder still.
Ring.
With a sharp inhalation of breath, I suddenly rocket up from my mattress in a cold sweat. My head and eyes throb with a dull, persistent ache, and my chest burns.
Panic-stricken, I survey my surroundings. I'm in my bedroom. Light is pooling in through my closed drapes, telling me it must be morning. The nightstand I shoved in front of my door is unmoved, so Mum or Dad have made no grand efforts to enter my room during the night. And, most importantly, the screams and yells are no more.
I ball my fists, gripping hold of my duvet tightly. It must have been a nightmare. There's no other explanation. Cory's not back. Dad wasn't yelling at him. There was no argument, and no attempt to enter the barren room at the other end of the hall. It was all in my head.
