You Are So Not a Fallen Angel

Chapter 23

There was a knock on the door. I stayed where I was, curled up on the bed, and didn’t answer. It came again.

“El?” Lorris called. “Can I come in?”

“No.”

“Please.”

“No.”

“Come on, I need to talk to you.”

“Well, tough.”

He rattled the doorknob again. “I’m sorry, El. I really am. But can we talk about this face to face?”

“No.”

“I’m not leaving until you let me in.” He thumped the door again.

“You better get comfortable then.”

“You’ll have to come out sometime.”

“Have you unlocked the front door yet?”

“No.”

“Then I’m not coming out.”

“I won’t unlock the door until you come out.” The smugness in his voice was almost enough to make me open the door, just so I could slap him. “Open the door, Eliza, this is silly.”

“I’m glad you realise it.”

“I just want to talk! Open the door, please.”

I covered my head with the pillow and hummed to myself. There came a couple more bangs on the doors, then silence. Had he gone away?

I tossed the mildew-smelling pillow away and sat up. I had to admit, Feather Boy had a point. I couldn’t leave until he decided to unlock the door. I had already tried to window and it wouldn’t budge. There was no reception on my phone, and even if I did ring a friend, or the police, I suspected they wouldn’t be able to find the house, let alone enter it. I was dependant on Lorris’ good graces, and it didn’t look like he’d be releasing me any time soon.

I flopped down onto my back and stared at the damp stains on the ceiling. This place grew more appealing by the minute. Was it in fact a hovel, a gutted shack, and everything I saw just an illusion? Was the illusion going to be cast aside, and I’d be the pile of mouldy blankets upon which I was really lying?

I wonder what my parents would do when I didn’t return home. They’d ring up Sharon first, obviously, and discover she hadn’t seen me since the end of the school year. Would they think I’d run away, or been abducted? They might assume, quite rightly, that I’d run off to see some boy. They might think he’d killed me, and my broken body was buried in a wood somewhere, in a swallow grave, waiting for a dog to dig me up...

The door slammed open, and I leapt off the bed, retreating to the far side of the room. Lorris stood in the doorway, a look of superiority marring his fine features.

“Is opening locked doors another of your special talents?” I asked, backing up until my back was against the wall as he advanced into the room. “Must come in handy.”

“No. This door has never locked properly. It’s just a question of applying pressure in the right places.”

“How noble of you to leave me,” I mimed looking at my watch, “five minutes to think things over. You’re so thoughtful.”

“You’ve had three hours.”

“Which means I should be completely over it, and ready to welcome you with open arms, right?”

“Not quite, but I thought you might want to discuss what happened,” he said, missing the sarcasm by about three miles.

“Well, I don’t, so go away.”