CHAPTER 39
Ella
Jude.
I have to get to Jude.
My phone trills in my ear as I beg Jude to answer. Nothing. She’s not picking up. I have to get to Immi’s house.
“Dammit.” The doors are locked. Panic builds as I press redial. The ring is an endless reminder of how much danger she could be in.
“Pick up,” I snap, the phone coming away from my ear as I jab at Jude’s name again.
With each redial, the truth sinks in. Something has happened to her.
The cold slaps my cheeks, drawing my attention to the wetness that runs down them.
Is that sweat or tears? I blink, an image of Jude somewhere hurt flashing behind my eyes.
I hit Immi’s number and the call drops instantly.
I’m running along the length of the house now, my phone gripped tight to my chest.
“Come on, Jude.” I reach Jude’s car. My feet slow and I yank the handle, only to remember that it’s probably locked. I have no keys anyway. I pivot, scanning the driveway that opens out into the road. She left on foot and Benji is in a car. I shouldn’t have left her.
I run. My body is not used to the exercise but adrenaline forces my muscles to pick up the pace. I left Jude to fend for herself against someone who I knew was dangerous because of my own selfish need, yet again. The tears fall as I take the route we’d drive, looping back past my own house.
A memory unfurls from somewhere long forgotten.
“Who’s that?” Nate asked as we walked away from Robbie’s house. I turned to catch a glimpse of a thin girl standing on the top floor of the house, pressing herself against the window. She looked pale and pained, her eyes tracking us as we walked down the road.
“Oh, her? She’s staying with us for a bit.” Robbie turned back to us, his voice dipping low. “She’s proper weird, her parents died, and she doesn’t talk.”
Robbie’s cousin. Robbie’s cousin is Immi. The thoughts tumble and crash into each other.
My thighs burn as I round the corner, but I can’t stop. Not this time. I can’t have another death on my hands. I can’t let this happen again.
I press the call button on my phone and finally hear the connection as someone picks up.
“Nine-nine-nine, what’s your emergency?” The curt, precise man at the end of the line feels like a lifeline.
“My friend is in danger, I’m heading to where she is. I think someone could have hurt her,” I pant, trying to keep pace and talk. Jude was right, there was no evidence it was Benji, just like there’s no evidence that anything has happened to Jude. But I have to listen to my gut this time.
“I’ll connect you with the police,” the man says and the call clicks.
“Police,” the voice says.
I push air out of my lungs in the hope that they’ll fill up bigger and wider. I need to stay calm, but all I can see is the image of Robbie’s dad and Immi. That vacant look. The silence that Immi gave me when I told them all about Robbie and Henry. The way she looked.
“Hi, someone is stalking me, a friend of mine, I think she wants to hurt my neighbour, Jude. She’s in danger. Can you send the police to Shearwood Village?”
I let out a noise close to a scream and bring the phone closer to my mouth.
“We can send out a car. What’s the address?” the handler says.
My lungs burn, I’m slowing down despite the desperation.
“I’m heading to 5 Shearwood Village. I don’t know if that’s where they are,” I scream, cupping my hand around my mouth to protect my words from the wind.
Something catches on my foot, and I find myself travelling through the air, my feet off the ground as I tumble forward.
My right hand manages to stretch out, grazing the concrete as I hit it.
My chin scrapes on the pavement, pain searing across my face.
My breathing staggers in broken heaves as I try to get to my feet, eyes landing on my phone.
A crack runs from the top to the bottom of the screen.
“Shit,” I shout, jabbing at it.
“God, no, come on. Please.” I look around, my hand pressing on my now bleeding chin.
The streets are empty. The streetlights flicker on, one after the other, creating little pools of amber.
I have to get to Jude. I push to stand, running as fast as I can until I see Immi’s house.
It sits immaculate and quiet. No lights are on, and there is no movement within.
I race up the drive, acknowledging with a frown that the gates are open.
Jude’s name on my lips but I press my mouth shut, unsure of what I might be stepping into.
How can Immi be Robbie’s cousin, and I not know about it?
A memory twigs, lost for how mundane it was.
Robbie stood at the side of the road as we waited for his lift.
We always did. First, his ride would come, then mine and Nate’s, and then Henry’s.
We never left anyone to walk home after we spent the day at the lake.
A beat-up old Ford parked up across the street from us.
Robbie was topless, his shirt wet from jumping in the lake, and it dripped fat gobbets of water onto the ground.
“Who’s that?” Henry said, nodding towards the car.
A thin arm hung out of the wound-down window, trying to catch a cool breeze in the warm air.
It was hard to tell under the hoodie if it was a girl or a boy, but their eyes looked drawn and gaunt.
Their lips set in a thin line as they stared across at us.
Robbie dropped his head, sighing, “My cousin.”
We all turned to look at Robbie, expecting more. He kicked a foot against the kerb.
“She barely talks or eats and spends most of her time in her room. Her parents died in this mysterious fire. Dad calls her the ‘weird orphan child’. It’s freaky with her in the house, man,” Robbie said.
I remember the boys teasing him about something, laughter rippling across the street as he meandered to the car.
But I couldn’t take my eyes off that girl, something so hauntingly attractive about her.
Immi.
Now, I press the doorbell. It rings, but there’s no sound to follow, and so I do what I’ve done a million times over.
I loop around the back and search for a way in.
The back door sits open, the one that leads into her kitchen.
My head sticks in, eyes searching around.
Nothing. I tiptoe through on the marble floor, the sound of my breathing echoing in the silence.
“Jude?” I whisper.
Nothing.
“Judith,” I say, as though her full name will pull her out of the darkness.
I turn the door handle that separates the kitchen off and head into the living room.
My finger hovers over the light switch before I think better of it.
If Immi is here, she’ll know where I am.
It’s better to walk in the darkness than to become visible.
I search the living room and find nothing.
I move into the hallway that runs the length of the house, realising now how much of a loop Immi’s house is.
The darkness is heavy. Do I go upstairs?
Or is that too risky? The lack of light suffocates me.
This is stupid. I turn back to the wall nearest the kitchen, where I know two light switches are placed.
As my fingers touch the coolness of the button, something slams hard into the back of my head.
I’m on the floor as the lights rise on, my vision blurring from the impact, staring up at a pair of black trainers.
A gurgling sound comes from the back of my throat before everything goes black.