Saving Grace

14

I arrived before the police did, my brother's stolen work Ute jumping the curb and ripping up Grace's garden beds. I fell out of the vehicle, knees in the cool dirt, and scrambled to my feet as I sprinted towards the house. The front door was unlocked. Every window was dark. My heart felt like it would explode.  The door swung open and I set foot into the house.

The living room was in complete darkness, with the exception of the pale moonlight which glittered on the rippling surface of Grace's swimming pool. Its reflection pierced through the French windows into the lounge room, painting streaks of wavering blue light on Grace's walls. My sharp eyes focused in the dark and I tightened my sweat-slicked hands on my old cricket bat, inching into the room. Silence. Nothing. I headed for the stairs.

I crept up them one at a time, shoulders tense and fists clenched. My heart was hammering against my battered ribs, sweat beading at my forehead, running down my back and soaking into the waistband of my jeans. Images of Him jumping out of some dark corner with a knife or gun bombarded my thoughts, clouding me, making every muscle pull tighter.

At the top of the stairs, a row of identical doors leading to bedrooms and studies and other fine places peered at me. I gulped, swung the first door open. Nothing. The second door. Nothing. The third. Nothing. At the end of the hallway, at the last door, Grace's door, I looked down and saw the light was on. My entire body began to tremble. This was it. It had to be.

The door swung open.

Light poured into the shadowy hallway, sparking a flame in the black night. I winced, eyes adjusting.

"Grace?" I called.

A gust of wind shot through the blinds, making them whip and snap. I jolted, muscles seizing, and jerked towards the door of the balcony. They settled, swinging gently, and I gulped.

"Grace, it's me."

I closed the door, checked under the bed. An eerie silence crept into the room. With clenched teeth, I approached the ensuite door, carved and painted white, and eyed the darkness floating out from under its oaky frame.

"Are you there?"

I pressed an ear to the door and heard the sounds of deep, troubled breathing echoing off the marble tiles. The only question was whether it was Grace or Him.

"Please open the door," I said, fingers spreading over the door handle. "I've checked everywhere. He's not here."

Oh, how I hoped that was true. I stepped back, gulped, eyes sharp as I lowered the cricket bat and unleashed three enormous kicks. The door burst apart from the hinges, crashing against the tiles on the other side. Light flooded the room and there was a moment, only a moment, where the silence was absolutely deafening.

"Grace?"

She leapt from the shadows, screaming, and slammed the butt of a deodorant can into my jawbone. I cried out, cricket bat falling from my hands and knees buckling.

"Grace! Grace, it's me!"

She pushed me onto my back, swinging one leg either side of me as she brought the can down again. My left cheekbone cracked apart, splintering into the tender flesh.

"Stop," I wailed.

I gripped her wrists, pulled her down, tried to open my eyes against the gushing blood.

"Look at me!"

Grace hesitated, locking eyes with me as confusion settled into her lovely face, a bare inch above mine.

"R-Richie?"

Her breaths came in short, shallow gasps. She gulped.

"It's me," I whispered.

Grace's eyes welled and she choked on a cry as her body began to tremble and the can fell to the floor.

"It's okay," I said, sitting up.

She collapsed against my chest, sobbing helplessly, curling up with her knees to her chest.

"Here, it's alright."

I stroked her hair as she clung to me, while the distant wail of sirens inched over the black horizon.

© A.G. Travers 2018