Secrets | Watty Awards Winner 2013

Chapter 1

I wake up in a cold sweat, my nails digging painfully into my palms. Goose bumps rise on my skin as I take long, slow breaths and try to ease my racing heartbeat.

It was just a dream, I tell myself. It was just a dream.

I lie in bed, listening to the rain beating steadily against the roof of the house. The sound is repetitive and soothing and I find my muscles slowly relaxing.

Micah.

My throat constricts at the thought of his name and I grit my teeth together to stop the memories. One nightmare per night is enough.

I don't know how long I lie there, staring blankly at the ceiling; but eventually, the rain stops and a pale ray of yellow sunshine creeps into my room. The alarm on my bedside buzzes and I turn it off. Sliding out of bed, I tread carefully into the bathroom. The tiles feel cold against my bare feet, stinging ever so slightly and then fading.

I stare at my reflection in the mirror. My skin is unusually pale, almost translucent. A jagged scar runs from the tip of my elbow to my wrist. I trace it lightly with my fingertips. It feels rough and smooth at the same time and I almost smile at the irony.

Splashing some water on my face, I change into a hooded sweater and jeans. The sweater is so big that it practically swallows me up but I like it. It gives me a bubble of anonymity.

Slipping on a pair of scuffed sneakers, I leave the safety of my room and walk down the hallway. My parents' house is huge and empty. I make my way silently down the winding staircase and let myself out of the house. The air is chilly and sticks in my throat as I jog slowly down the winding driveway. My muscles feel stiff and sore from yesterday's run but I work through the pain. It makes me forget everything that has happened.

When I reach the large, iron-wrought gates at the end of the driveway, I use two small metal rods and pick the lock. It opens without any trouble and after taking care to lock the gate again, I break into a run down the street.

It's still early so the streets are deserted. A sweat breaks out across my brow and trickles down the back of my neck. My feet thud rhythmically on the hard pavement and I find myself slipping into the motion. It feels good to exercise- to forget everything else in the world and only focus on my steady heartbeat. I used to run with music plugged into my ears but now I prefer the quiet. It helps me think. It clears my head.

It takes me awhile before I realize someone is following me. At first, it's just an uneasy feeling, tugging at my gut. Unlike other times, I don't brush it away. If I've learnt anything in the last few months, it's that my intuition is hardly ever wrong.

I check the watch wrapped around my left wrist.

7:20.

My eyes flicker right and left before I take turn the corner onto Collins Drive. There is a souvenir shop on the right-hand side that sells cheesy sunglasses and old-fashioned mirrors. It opens early on Thursday mornings.

I can hear them- whoever is following me- now. The quiet engine of their car purrs as they keep a safe distance away from me.

Adrenaline shoots through my veins and I pick up speed. Behind me, I hear the car engine rev but the sound is muffled by the blood rushing past my ears.

I run faster.

The cold air stings my cheeks and brings tears to my eyes. Winds swirls around me, tugging at my clothes and hair.

I run even faster.

A shiver runs down my back. What if they grab me now? What if they take me away and murder me before I can figure out what's going on and reveal it to the world?

Four blocks. Three blocks.

If they get me now, I will never be able to avenge Micah. I will die and the truth will never come to light. Micah would have died in vain.

Two blocks.

No. I can't die- not that I fear death. I don't. But Micah deserves better than this.

One...

I push open the door of the shop and walk inside. I give the shopkeeper- a small wiry woman with greying hair- a smile and look out the window. The car parks itself across the road. No one gets out. A shiver runs from the top of my spine to the bottom. They're waiting for me. They're waiting for me to make a wrong move. They're waiting for the right moment to take me again.

I grit my teeth. No. This time, they're not going to succeed. I will make sure of that.

I walk up to the counter and plaster the biggest smile I can muster onto my face.

"Hi," I say, "You may want to duck into the back for awhile. Things might get a little messy."

The woman looks perplexed but before I can explain, I see it- the glint of morning sunlight on a gun barrel. I scream and throw myself over the counter at the woman. We both drop behind the top just before the world around us explodes into gunshots.