Chapter Text
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“You didn’t mean it, did you?” He was so tentative, so unsure. It made my heart hurt to see him this way, see him so not himself. There wasn’t a smirk in his voice and his eyes held none of their usual mischievous glimmer. He looked so broken. “You don’t really want to go home, right?”
“I’m sorry, Louis,” I tried, my voice choked up, but he just closed his eyes and shook his head, refusing to listen to the rest of my words. A grimace that I’m sure was meant to be a smile worked its way onto his face, as if he was trying to reassure me that he’d be fine.
“We were lucky to have you,” he whispered, and then pulled away, walking swiftly down the hallway, shoulders hunched inward and head bowed.
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“Haaaaarrrry! Wake up, you sleepyhead! You’ve got chores to do,” Aunt Em called from outside my door. I groaned and shoved my face into my pillows, pretending that the world outside my bedroom didn’t exist for a moment longer.
With a sigh, I stretched and rolled over, placing my feet on the ground while still sitting on my bed. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, and blinked blearily at the light streaming through my windows. I knew I’d feel guilty if I made my Aunt wait any longer, and the thought of her disappointed face pushed me onward toward the bathroom. I hastily brushed my face and combed through my hair. The slept-in curls were a bit unmanageable though, so I grabbed a scarf and tied them back and out of my eyes. I splashed some water on my face, did a quick once over in the mirror above my sink, grabbed a jacket and my shoes, and then headed out of my room into the kitchen for a quick bite to eat.
Aunt Em was at the kitchen counter, cutting up some vegetables and humming to herself.
“Morning,” I called, sitting down at the kitchen table. I put on my shoes and zipped up my jacket, and then reached over and grabbed a granny smith apple from the bowl on the table. It was a brighter green than most, the hues darker and richer. The colour reminded me of the emerald necklace my mother used to wear; a gift from my father when they were still only dating. I spent a moment longer admiring it with a faint smile before placing it back and grabbing a banana instead.
“Morning,” she replied with a smile, before sliding the veggies into the pot that sat on the stove. “Dinner’s gonna be vegetable soup.”
“Sounds delicious,” I said, looking out the window at the dreary countryside. It was deep into autumn at this point, nearly winter, and the air was chilled and leaves were falling. The sky remained the same dreary grey and was constantly on the verge of opening up into yet another downpour. All I could hope was that the soup would warm me up after being out in the crisp air all day.
I finished my banana and walked outside, the screen door banging shut behind me. I threw the peel into our compost pile, and strode over to our stables. I grabbed a bucket and filled it with oats, and then made my way over to where our horses stood inside their pen. I refilled their food and water, shivering a bit as the wind picked up from a light breeze to strong gusts. I noticed that the horses seemed a bit frantic, stomping about with wild eyes, looking as if they wanted to bolt at any second. I frowned at them, shaking my head and turning to head toward the chicken coop, when I heard a shout from across the field. It was low and drowned out over the wind, but it sounded frightened and out of breath. I whipped around, scanning our farm for the source, only to see Uncle Henry stumbling across the field, eyes wide with terror.
I glanced behind him for the source of his fright, and a small gasp escaped my lips. A twister was winding its way through the countryside, and the gusts of wind around me were becoming unbearable. I could hear the screen door banging, and the horses were whinnying noisily, and there were more shouts from the other farmhands to let the animals loose. I heard Aunt Em screaming loudly for everyone to get in the cellar, and I finally moved from where I had been frozen with fear. I unlatched the horses’ pen and they burst out of it, nearly running me over in their haste to get away. Next was the coop, and I sprinted over to open the door. They did their best to fly out of it, though their wings were clipped and they didn’t get very far before they had to land again. I only had a moment to feel guilty about that before a thought struck me, and I dashed toward the house with the twister nearly upon us.
I could hear my Aunt and Uncle shouting my name, searching for me, but I ignored them as I bolted into the house, nearly ripping the door of its hinges in my haste. “I have to get it,” I whispered under my breath, my thoughts centered on the locket that was nestled in the second drawer of the dresser in my room. It was another relic from my mother, and inside sat a picture of her and my dad holding me as a baby. It was one of the only things I kept from her, and I couldn’t let it be taken away, couldn’t stand the thought of losing it. It would be like losing them all over again.
The house was actually shaking as I stumbled into my room, and I yanked open the drawer with quivering fingers. There the locket lay, safe and sound. A breath I didn’t know I had been holding rushed out of me, and I quickly clasped the necklace around my neck, positioning the pendant under my shirt.
All of a sudden, the house shook with a vengeance, wind howling in my ears and the shutters on the window banged and rattled. I was thrown over, and my sprawled figure fell across my bed, my head hitting the bedframe as I went. And then everything faded to black.
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