Saving Death

Chapter 10

We were on our way home from the hospital and as we trundled along the winding, country road, I gazed out the window at the mist. It was low to the ground today and made the trees in the fields look as if they were hovering. The weather had been terrible the whole day and it was still cold and damp outside, causing the tyres to spray mud along the hedgerows as we travelled along. It was cosy inside the cab of the car, though. The radiator was on high and the radio produced a low hum of chatter, but I hadn't listened to a word of what was being said. My mind was still going over what had happened the night before and how lucky I'd been. But worse than that was the constant replay of the few words that Sam had shared. There are things you don't know...shouldn't know. What was so terrible? I knew it must be bad, but I just couldn't put my finger on it. He'd tried to drive me away, but he'd only made me more intrigued. Now, I had to know.

As the four-wheel drive slowed and turned onto the uneven track leading to Willow Farm, my shoulder knocked into the car door, making me tense. I was cradling my right arm in my lap and dreaded seeing red liquid seeping from underneath it, although the nurse had reassured me that it should be fine. I had stitches and would need to go back for a check-up, but other than that, I was all fixed.

When we rumbled to a stop in front of Willow Cottage, Dad climbed out, shutting his door behind him with a metallic clunk and left me listening to the whispered buzz of the car radiator coming to a stop. Silence erupted around me and I felt goosebumps course up my arms. My dad had been unnervingly quiet ever since he'd stepped foot in the hospital, and I wondered how long it would last and at what point he might lose it and get angry. I at least knew him well enough to know it was just beneath the surface. He was someone who bottled all his feelings up until the last minute, then he'd explode like a cannon. Like father like daughter, I thought with a grim smirk on my face. I reached gingerly for the door handle, but it was pulled from my reach.

"Here," Dad said, taking me under my good elbow as I slid awkwardly down onto the gravel driveway. I shivered in the hard winter air. "The door's unlocked," he said. "I'm just going to get some wood for the burner."

I watched him walk away towards the barn and resigned myself to the fact that the next few days off wouldn't be as relaxing as I might have first hoped. He was mad at me—really mad, and I wasn't accustomed to living with him enough to know the effects this might have on day to day life.

Sighing to myself as I made my way around to the front door, I hoped I would at least be able to catch up on my overdue assignments. I'd been so wrapped up in everything happening with Sam lately that my college work had suffered, but now that he was officially no longer a friend—I froze. Zac was slumped on the doorstep with his head in his hands and as he looked up at me, relief spread over his face.

"Zac... What are you doing here?"

"Oh, my god, Ava," he mumbled, getting to his feet. "I'm so sorry." He searched my eyes. "Are you okay? What happened? I couldn't find you..."

"It's okay. I'm fine," I said, giving him a small smile. "I've just got back from the hospital. All fixed now." I held up my arm and a shadow passed over Zac's face as he saw the bandages covering my wound. "It's not as bad as it looks," I said, shrugging and trying not to remember the feeling of sickness as I'd seen the blood running down my arm.

Looking up at Zac, I could see that he was pale with tiredness. He looked worse than me. "I don't know what happened last night, Ava. It just went crazy in there."

"Don't worry about it," I muttered, shivering in the cold. "I was stupid last night. I probably deserved everything I got." Zac shuffled on the spot. I could tell he felt bad, but I didn't want him to get into more trouble. "Look, you should probably go. My dad's really angry," I said, glancing over my shoulder. "He'll be here soon, and I don't want you to get the blame for what happened. It was my fault."