Cast.

Chapter 3

“What are you doing here?” I spat, shaking my hand, as if it would help to reduce the pain.  Greg, was looking over my head at the diner, all of its occupancies eyes were glued on us, and didn’t answer.

“Come on,” I moaned and pushed open the door, and stepped into the cold night air. Greg followed slowly, keeping his head down. “What are you doing here?” I repeated heatedly. 

“To give you this.” He said, pulling a book wrapped in brown paper from his bag and handing it to me.  It felt heavy in my hands and I flipped it over, feeling the leather of the cover below the paper.

“What would I want with a book?” I asked. I didn’t mean to sound hash towards him, I hardly knew him. But the idea of him scared me. I didn’t want to admit it, but I believed them, the rumours.

“Could you give it to your mum?” he sighed, exasperated.

“You know my mum?” I said in a small voice.

“No,” he looked down at his shoes and kicked at the ground. “But my dad does.”

“How?”

“I dunno.” He shrugged. “But please, just give it to her.”

“Why should I?” I pondered, crossing my arms over my chest. “You haven’t really given me a reason to like you.”

“Yet, I still haven’t given you a reason to hate me. I’ve done nothing.” He appeared slightly hurt, and his eyes appeared to become a shade darker.

“What do you call this then?!” I laughed, showing the mark on my skin to him.

“I have it to!” he shouted, pulling his sleeves up over his hand to reveal the ruin in exactly the same place. “Stop thinking you’re the only one who’s going through this Anna.”

“Going through what?!” I shouted back.  Greg’s face dropped again, and he pulled his sleeves back down.

“Nothing.” He said quietly, “just make sure you give that back to your mum, ok?”  and he turned on his heels and walked off into the night. I stood and watched him go, my heart had started to pound again, hand my hands were clenched into fists. I didn’t know what it was, but there was something wrong about Greg Witt, and I was determined to find out what.  Frustrated, I stormed back into the diner.

“What was all that about?!” Bink asked as soon as entered the kitchen.

“No, idea.” I lied.

“What have you got there?” she indicated the large package in my arms.

“ermm, I have no idea.” I lied again.

“It looks like a book.” She observed. I shrugged.

“Is there anything to take out?” I answered instead.  

“Nope, Shifts ended.” I looked up at the time and smiled.

“Oh yeah, I guess I’ll see you Monday then?”

“Yeah, I’ll text you?”

“sure.” I grinned, “See you later.”

A gentle breeze blew that night, and it sent wisps of hair across my face as I walked home.  With every step I took Greg’s face seemed to etch itself into my brain. My thumb absentmindedly rubbed my mark on my skin, as I thought of what the hell was going on.  Somehow, without meaning too, I had become involved with the forbidden Witt, and despite previous warnings I didn’t want to stay away and although my exterior suggested differently, I didn’t despise him. He intrigued me.  For whatever reason my mother was hiding something from me. As I hugged the massive book in my arms tighter I slowly started to piece something together, and the image of a large black car pulling past my house resurfaced and I saw in my minds eyes my mother coming out of my house carrying a large book wrapped in brown paper…. I looked back down at the thing I was carrying and I light bulb switched on. This book. What the hell was my mum doing with the Witt’s? And suddenly it occurred to me that I might finally be in the possession of one of my parent’s precious books. I felt the urge to rip the paper off, and discover what secrets laid within. But a severe twang of guilt was felt in the pit of my stomach. I had never been good at lying, especially to my parents, and the idea of keeping a secret as big as this made me feel sick.  Although I had moved every time my parents had wanted to write something new I didn’t resent them for it, it would make some teenagers feel lost, and it was true that at some points felt as though I would never fit in, but it gave me a sense of adventure, I felt as though I had fully seen parts of the world. But they always had so much trust and faith in me, and it was for that reason I couldn’t hate them, that I couldn’t lie.  I continued to walk through the town and past the small quaint houses that adorned the roads. I smirked slightly as I observed my surroundings, it was something I had never experienced before, and I was determined to soak in everything I could. One house seemed to be set out from the rest, it had a small white wire gate that lead you up to front path and onto the steps that were placed in front of the large black wooden door. Parked on the road outside was the large black car, and my ears started to ring again, with every step I took towards the house the ringing became loader and stronger, until I was gasping in pain and stood outside, unwilling to let the pain overcome me, I spun around to look directly at the front door. I glared. The ruin was carved on the door. Fury burnt inside me, and my hands bulled up into fists. I didn’t have to guess, I knew who lived there. I wanted to scratch that stupid ruin of the door. It was everywhere, and it deserved to be erased from my life. I was about to storm up the path, when my head couldn’t take the pain any longer, my knees crumpled. I fell to the floor. I wanted to lie there and let the pavement soak me up. But I couldn’t, I wouldn’t let this, whatever it is, win. Drawing every ounce of strength I had, I pulled myself to my feet, and ran from my life.

“What the hell?!” my dad shouted as soon I stumbled through the front door. “What happened?!”

“It’s fine.” I panted “it’s just a headache.” I walked straight into the kitchen, in desperate need of water.

“Well, I can tell that’s a lie.” I stated simply, following me.

“What?!” I stumbled. “How? I’m not lying.”

“A, your jeans are ripped and covered in blood, you face is grazed, and you’ve looked like you’ve seen a ghost.” I looked down at my knees, I hadn’t even noticed that I had cut myself, I was too engrossed with the ringing in my head, and the pounding of my heart to notice. My father was the kind of man that didn’t enjoy a fuss.  He saw things for what they were, and was not afraid to say so. He could always see through people’s lies and fake exteriors. So it was no surprise he saw through me. I felt slightly foolish for trying to even hide it, and I felt another pang of gilt.

“So, tell me what happened.” He tried again.

“I feel over.” I mumbled.

“I could tell that.” He smirked. “Why did you fall over?”

“I had a headache and it caused my knees to buckle?” I asked, even though I knew it was true, I felt as though I needed his approval for it to be correct.  

“I’ll grab some ice.” He laughed

“And some Aspirin whilst you at it?”  I mound whilst sinking into one of my kitchen chairs.  My dad said something in reply, but I could hear him over the sound of the freezer.

“A,” he poked his head out again holding an ice pack.

“Sorry?”

“I said, what have you got there anyway?” he handed me the pack and pointed towards the book that I had dumped onto the table.

“Oh,” I gulped, “it’s a book.”

“Why do you have a book?” he raised his eyebrows suspiciously.

“Someone asked to give it back to mum.” Just like my mums had the time I had brought up Greg, My dad’s eyes darkened.  

“Who gave it to you?” he demanded. I gulped again, knowing there was no point in trying to distract him.

“Greg Witt.” I stated.

“What?” I’d never seen my dad shocked or worried. But I guess there’s a first for everything.

“Greg Witt.” I said again “he came to find me at work. And told me to give it back to mum, something about his dad borrowing it…”

“I thought you were told to stay away from him.” He whispered.

“I was but- “I started but was soon interrupted by my mum entering the room.

“Jerry,” she said “leave it.” It was obvious that she had been listening from the door, and she had a knowing expression on her face.

“What haven’t you told me Sarah?” he looked weary, as if he knew the worst was yet to come.

“I think we should talk.” Was all she replied.

I pressed my ear agents my parents studies, desperate to know what was going on inside.  I could hear their argument in muffled voices.

“What do you mean you lent him the book?!” My father’s voice shouted.

“He asked me to! It’s my job Jerry!” my mother’s voice replied.

“This is dangerous! We can’t let her become too involved in this!”  

“Look, Jerry let me explain. Paul called me, he said how Greg had come home on Anna’s first day really freaked out. He knew exactly who she was, but he didn’t want to kill her. I told him everything we knew, and said we thought he was still away. Paul asked to borrow the book, he thought we may have got something wrong, and I agreed, so he came over that night and picked it up. Everything’s not matching up, and we think we have a lead here!” you could hear he desperation in her voice. “I mean, you don’t want the prophecy to be true, do you?!”

“Of course not!” my father replied soothingly. I could her sobs through the door and I guessed my mother had burst into tears.

“I don’t want Anna to die.” She gasped.

“Me too.” Was all my father could respond “Me too.”

I could do nothing but let silent tears roll down my cheek.