The walk to Margot's place seemed elongated and agonizing, but eventually they made it back. A few scratches from falling and scraping their skin on wayward branches, but otherwise both girls were okay.
Mentally? Yeah, let's not cover that territory.
"Mom! Dad! Niah!" Margot calls out as she unlocks the door to her house, practically throwing it open. She doesn't care that she'll be in huge trouble. Not wearing suitable clothes, lying where she's been, doesn't have her phone, brought a girl home. Yeah, she'll probably be grounded for months.
That's fine. She can't say she doesn't deserve it, because she does. But that's not the issue.
"Mom? Dad?" The house is devoid of anyone, which she didn't recall was planned. Or at least, it wasn't mentioned at some point. "Niah?" Isla is seated on the ugly polka-dotted sofa that Mom and Dad had to agree with each other to buy, her left leg bouncing as she fidgets with her skirt.
There's a home phone on the kitchen counter, which Margot dials on frantically. As she waits for any of the people she calls to answer at least once, she pulls out a chair from underneath the table. She's reached Niah's voicemail by the time she pushes the seat against the counter, which she uses as a stepladder to reach the top cabinet where cups should be.
"Hey, this is Denise Solomon. If I haven't reached you and this is important, please leave a-" Margot sighs softly, leaning over to carefully dial Connor's number. It rings as she fumbles through the cabinet for few cups when her hand brushes against something unfamiliar. "What the-"
Connor's voice reaches her ear, but she's not paying attention as she pulls whatever's in there out to gaze at it.
It's a piece of paper, written in the same loopy cursive as the invitation she had gotten. The paper's a little worse for wear, molded spots appearing here and there most likely due to occupying the same space as washed dishes.
I, Denise Solomon, promise to abide by the same rules the Singer has provided, and participate in the same activities as the rest of the town in order to keep my own livelihood. The sacrifices will not be in vain. They will please the Singer.
Singer? Sacrifice? Mom?!
Oh.
Oh, god.
Does... Does that mean...?
The phone slips from between Margot's shoulder and ear, clattering on the ground and sending the entire device unplugging and plummeting to the ground. She's completely frozen in place, myriads upon myriads of questions filling her head. She hardly notices Isla entering the kitchen to see what the noise was.
"Margot?" The taller brunette slowly approaches Margot, tentatively extending a hand out to comfort her. The latter brushes it away, finding herself stomping upstairs in that same impulsivity she's always had within her. "He-Hey, Margot, wait!" Isla calls after, trailing with uncertainty as she's not familiar with the house.
Margot doesn't waste time as she dumps out the school supplies in her backpack and fills it up with clothes and a few tools such as a flashlight, a utility knife, and other useful things. Isla soon makes her way to the room, watching in confusion as the young Solomon darts around the room and stuffing her red backpack.
"...Margot?"
"You're gonna have to go incognito. They might notice that you escaped." Then it dawns onto her, and she stops. "Oh, crap. They scanned our invites. That probably wasn't just for verification, it was to put us in their records."
"...Margot."
"The mayor's in on this, and no doubt the police. If I stay I'll risk getting captured and deal the same fate as those other kids without getting to help those who still have a chance." She pulls a fluffy blanket from off her bed, managing to stuff it inside the backpack as well. "I can't leave either; it'd be easier for me to be a spy and you skip town to maybe get some help and stay out of harm's way. Yeah. Yeah, that can work."
"Margot."
"There should be some nonperishables in the basement. We always kept them down there in case there were any emergencies." Margot shakes her head. "Might not be easy to bring in just one backpack, but we'll have to make do with what we have. I can pawn some jewellery if necessary. That'll last us for, say, maybe a month or so. Living conditions won't be easy either." She kicks off her ballet flats and spots a pair of boots poking from underneath her bed. She doesn't regularly wear shoes other than boots, but figures it'd waste less time.
"Margot."
"Oh, man, what about Niah? Does she know about any of this? What if she can help? We can't stay to find out, now's a better time than ever to leave before they notice we weren't actually killed. Jeez, I shouldn't have called, they'll definitely be able to track that and figure it out soon. Yeah, let's go now."
"Margot!" Margot pauses as Isla shouts out her name. "You need to calm down, alright?"
"I-I..." She exhales forcefully. "We need to go. Now."
The door downstairs unlocks, then swings open, and Margot's heart immediately drops to her shoes.
"Margot? Sweetie, we know you're here," Dad's voice calls out. "We can talk about this, we won't get mad."
Breath starts becoming nonexistent. Margot roughly paws through her curly hair, which falls back into place.
"Margot Elisabeth Solomon, you need to talk to us about this," says Mom, her voice hardened and sounding much closer.
It was time to go. It was time. To. Go.
Margot quickly slams the door shut and locks it, but Niah's on the other side knocking on it and begging to be let in. "Mags, please! Look, it's all just some silly prank, it doesn't mean anything!"
"You're in on this too?! You let those kids die for what?!" Margot yells, hunched over against the door as her hands ball into shaky fists.
"We don't have a choice! We- have to choose and sacrifice or else she'll kill us all," Mom explains, and Margot can picture her fumbling with her hands as she always does when nervous. "We have to do as she says."
"You were willing to let a bunch of kids die to save your own skin? You were willing to sacrifice your own daughter?"
"We didn't have a choice!" Niah repeats after Mom. "That's why I-I tried hard to not let you go. I should've tried harder. I'm so sorry, Mags. I didn't want you to find out like this..."
Margot shakes her head, finally allowing herself to glance at Isla, whose forehead forms lines. "Let's go," she mouths, and Margot agrees. She tiptoes to her window, pulling it upward and allowing the breeze to sting her watery eyes.
She makes a gesture for Isla to follow as she lifts one leg over the windowsill, hands safely secure on the ledge, and finds herself at rhe edge of the roof. Isla is right beside her, following beside Margot with ease. In a matter of seconds, the girls find themselves climbing down a ladder on the side of the house (the one Dad never put up, thank goodness for that) and landing safely on the front lawn.
And then they begin running.
And the story really begins now.
YOU ARE READING
solomon's lament | completed | final product under editing
Paranormal"I'll let you go in exchange for a deal." "Wh-What deal...?" "All I ask is you find something for me. I'll take you to that place where it is, which is safe and you cannot be harmed. But if you don't find it, I fear you won't live very long, and you...
