The Fray

Chapter 4

"Hello?" My voice came out in hoarse whisper. I was grateful it even came out at all, my tongue feeling unnaturally heavy and inert.

A bubbling anxiety gnawed at the pit of my stomach. Ian had mistakenly stepped out to give me some privacy the very the second Ms Thompson had oh so cheerily handed me the phone. Damn that woman and her obliviousness.

The soft, disturbingly tranquil sounds of breathing slithered through my ears, each light exhale of air tickling the walls playfully as it went down. I shuddered slightly at the unpleasant feeling.

"I don't know who you are. I don't know what you want. If you are looking for ransom, I can tell you I don't have money. But what I do have are a very particular set of skills; skills I have acquired-" A shaky sigh escaped, replacing any notion of threatening the intruder.

This isn't a joke. I can't just quote Taken and make my problems disappear. There are times in a person's life when they must battle their instincts and bravely face their greatest, most terrifying fears-

I hung up. This wasn't one of those times.

Call ended came up, black writing in an unnerving red background. It was brief but enough to remind me that I might have made a mistake. The box might as well have read 'idiot' since that was what it strongly implied.

I could have gotten answers.

But did I want them? The answer was quick, no, I'd rather forget. Is that the wise decision? Of course not.

The breathing was so relaxed- patient even. I'm sure it could clearly make out my tone of utter desperation and panic, yet it remained steady. All- knowing definitely comes to mind.

If Ms Thompson answered, that means she heard a voice. Even with the large amount of well earned respect I have for her, I doubt she's capable of decoding the almost silent sounds of respiration.

She could know who it was. All I have to do is bring it up casually during breakfast while she delicately sups her tea. The part of the day she's at her most talkative. If I get a name, good. If I don't, I'll move on.

It's most likely a tasteless prank, devised by bored kids with a lot of time on their hands.  Ha maybe with a lot of repetition,  it'll start sounding true. What else could I possibly do?

I hastily tapped in the only number I ever bothered to learn off by heart.

***

"Yeah, Mom, everything's fine. I'm staying with the Thompsons-"

"Do they know you're there?" Her voice shrilled fretfully.

I furrowed my eyebrows, completely taken aback. It's hardly like I'd sneak into my best friend's house and secretly live there. In the cupboard under the stairs, years go by and I remain completely undetected until a magical letter from Hogwarts arrives-

"Yes, I think they do," sarcasm laced each word which was then accompanied by an inevitable eye roll.

"Okay, good. That's good." She inhaled shakily, still in mother bear mode after the news. "Now, do not under any circumstances return to our house until we get back. If you get another phone call, ignore it."

I nodded, a small smile making its way on my lips.

"Iva?"

Of course she couldn't have seen my response, I wanted to laugh at my own stupidity but miraculously refrained. "Oh yeah, got it."

It took a lot of reassurance on my part (at least five minutes of comforting nonsense) before she would settle down and finally say goodbye. They've been having the time of their lives in Italy, celebrating their twenty years of, and I quote, a good marriage. Despite the inexcusable jealousy, I was happy for them. They needed the break.