Flash

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Shh, Alice, don't be afraid," Dad whispers.

"I'm not afraid of anything Daddy," I reply.

"Be strong baby girl. Daddy loves you, forever and ever, no matter what happens, right?"

"Yes Daddy."

"Good Ali. I love you angel." He kisses my forehead, and turns his back to me. Then we are underwater, and the sound is thick and dense. My screams are muted as the same scene rolls through my mind, repeating, as he drives the knife through my father's chest.

"DADDY!" I cry, but no sound emits from my lips. I am sinking, further and further down I float, I am drowning...

I awake gasping, perspiration sticks to the back of my neck. Heather lays in the bed beside me, so asleep she could be dead. I roll over and groan, my head pounding. Last night's dream is one I always have, just with different twisted endings. Sometimes I'm drowning, others I am strapped to train tracks, or buried alive, or...

I snap out of my remembrance as Heather mumbles something in her sleep that sounds something like, "Ya fuckin played me, James, like a fuckin guitar, James..." I laugh, and ease myself from the bed. My feet are sore from last night, and my body aches of tiredness as I pad down the hall of my house. I find myself in the kitchen, just admiring the work that had been put into making it so beautiful. I live with my ma, and we're hanging on to this house by a thread. Ma says we bought it with Dad's money, when we were rich, and I was only a few months old. The kitchen is beautiful, garnished with light granite counter tops and stainless steel appliances. The light hardwood floors contrast with the darker maple cabinetry, making it lovely and classy looking.

I pull out a pan and crack three eggs onto it. I fry them quietly, listening to hear for any sign of my best friend's life. The eggs are done by the time Heather traipses down the hall, her blonde hair messily tied up and faint lines of smudged mascara under her brown eyes. She rubs her temples and collapses onto a bar stool.

"Whatta night," Heather chuckles, scratching the back of her neck casually.

"Indeed," I agree, setting a plate of eggs in front of her. 'I'll be seeing you soon,' he whispers. His green eyes flicker around in my mind, that mysterious half-smile teasing my memory. Anthony's features play again in my brain, and can't help but think he could be someone I've passed on the street. But no, I know him, somehow, and that I need to find out.

"I'm going for a run. Ma shouldn't be back from the airport until 4:30, but if for some reason you're still here and I'm still gone when she comes, say you were stopping by to pick up something," I say, glancing at the pig of a best friend with an empty plate in front of me.

"Gottitt. Thanks for letting me stay, Alice. You know how my parents get," Heather whispers the last part and removes herself from the stool. I nod, and as she plops down on my living room couch and flicks the telly on, I change into my running clothes.

"Don't burn the house down!" I shout and not waiting for a reply, I slam the door shut and start off on my run.

I jog all around London, my usual route. By the end of my run I'm tired, and the noon sun is beating over London. I stop at a Starbucks quickly and pick up a coffee, before starting my walk back to the house.

I am about to turn down one of my secret shortcut alleyways when I see a figure propped up against the wall, blowing smoke rings toward the opposite wall. I am frozen with fear, and the person turns their head my way. I backpedal, and lose my footing in a pothole. The figure, now recognizable as a man, starts in my direction. Scrambling to get back on my feet, I writhe on the ground as the man approaches me.

"Well well well, look who we have here. Little Alice DeLaceu," he growls, and flashes a half-smile that has been playing with my memory all morning.

"Anthony?" I ask numbly.

"That is my name, genius. What are you doing stumbling around back here?"

"I could ask you the same," I retort, shrugging my shoulders.

"Touché. You realize you're still on the ground, right?" Anthony offers my a hand up, but I ignore it and haul myself up.

"I was waiting for someone," he scoffs, his hot breath tickling my cheeks. He smells like smoke and a hint of cologne, and his dirty blonde hair looks messy and ungroomed. Its long, so he sweeps it out of his face and looks at me with his piercing green eyes.

"I was just going home. Goodbye Anthony," I say, turning to leave. Anthony places a hand on my shoulder and spins me to look at him. My stomach erupts with butterflies, and although I am unaware why, it is a comfortable feeling, and I can't tell whether I like it or not.

Anthony leans down so his lips are grazing my ear.

"Goodbye, Alice DeLaceu," he purrs. He lets go of me and walks back where he came from, leaving me standing there breathless with just a trace of that feathery feeling in my gut.

**********************************

thanks for reading:) I'll try to update often!