Stepping Into The Light (Hidden Under Darkness Sequel)

Chapter 2

**Fairlight’s POV**

I wake before dawn and dress quickly. I sneak downstairs in just my socks, hoping I won’t wake anyone. I pull my shoes on at the door and step out into the cold air. I breathe in deeply through my nose and enjoy the crisp, fresh smell of new snow. I start running down the street, listening to the crunch and crackle of the ice beneath my feet. I jog to a nearby park and start running along the slippery path.

“I love you Fairlight.”

The words echo in my ears. I shake my head, trying to push them away. I concentrate on my breathing and not falling over

“I love you Fairlight.”

“No!” I cry. I stop running and cover my face. I can’t do this. I don’t do love. I don’t do affection.

I stare around me at the world of white. I wish I could be as pure as this snow. I wish everyone could be as pure as this snow.

I walk carefully over to the edge of a small pond. The surface has frozen over and I can see my reflection in it. My scar is outlined like a jagged neon light.

“Urgh,” I groan, looking away. I look over to the other side of the pond. It’s not too far over there. I step onto the ice and begin making my way across. As I do I realise I put more trust in frozen water than I do in my… My… In George.

When I reach the other side I begin running again, trying to block out any George related thoughts, steeling myself up against him.

“I have a heart of stone,” I mutter to myself, “a heart of stone, not ice. Stone doesn’t melt. Stone doesn’t- AH!”

I slip and immediately put my hands out to catch myself. If only I’d have worn gloves there would have been no problem, but I didn’t. I roll onto my back and look at my shredded hands. Blood is oozing from the grazes and they sting. I struggle to a sitting position, trying not to put my hands on the ground. I look down at my knees and see the skin there is exposed and bleeding too.

“Great,” I sigh, struggling to my feet. I lean heavily against a tree and test my joints. My left ankle feels sore and swollen. I start to limp home, shivering from cold and pain. Every step I take on my left ankle it makes me grit my teeth. I try to move faster once I’m in sight of the house, but the pain forces me to slow down. When I reach the stairs I lean my shoulder against the railing and drag myself up. At the front door I struggle with the handle for a moment before heaving a sigh and knocking.

I lean against the doorframe and wait, listening for footsteps. I can’t hear anything. I feel a rush of anger and hurt.

“Fine,” I hiss, “fine! I’ll do it myself!”

Wincing in pain, I manage to open the door and stumble inside. I look at the stairs and sigh.

This is going to hurt.