She could talk to animals and they could talk back to her.
It was magical.
The story was magical.
And Mom was going to be the first one to read it.
I heard the thudding up the stairs and I looked at Steven. Then Jeffrey. Then Mary. And finally, Mr. Monkey.
“You’re up,” I said.
I grabbed Mr. Monkey and threw him at the door.
It didn’t do a thing though.
The door opened a few seconds later and in came my father.
Showing his teeth like an evil hyena in a cartoon movie.
He kicked Mr. Monkey, sending him sailing through the air.
“Get back here!” Mom’s voice yelled. “She has nothing to do with this!”
“She has everything to do with it,” my father said.
Quiet. Calm.
Which was the scariest of all.
The louder he was, the more likely it was that he was going to break something.
But the quieter he was… the more likely it was that he was going to break someone.
My father stopped inches from me. His work boots were filthy, cut and frayed. His jeans were dirty too. He smelled weird.
“What the fuck is that?” he asked me, pointing to my bright pink notebook.
I hated myself for choosing such a color for such an important story. I should have gone basic, so nobody would notice it.
“Nothing,” I said in a brave voice.
“Liar,” he said. “Just like your mother.”
He crouched and reached for the notebook.
I had nowhere near the strength of him as he ripped it out of my hand. The top of the metal ring caught the inside of my thumb. I yelled as I felt the stinging pain.
“Serves you right,” my father said.
He tore open the notebook and ripped out a page.
“No!” I cried out.
“Shut up,” he growled at me. “This is the garbage that got us here.”
“Please. Daddy… please…”
He looked down at me. “You think that’s going to work on me? I know how much you hate me. And trust me, it’s for your own good.”
My father reached into his back pocket.
I cringed and feared the worst.
I wasn’t even sure what the worst was.
He took out a metal lighter and flicked the lid open with his thumb. He sparked the lighter and a bright flame gently swayed left to right. He put that flame to the corner of the notebook and grinned as I watched it catch on fire.
My bottom lip quivered and I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry. I wanted to get up and attack him. But I knew better. He was bigger. Stronger. He was meaner. He was a jerk. He was an asshole.
And I didn’t care if he was my father.
“There, that’s better,” he said.
He dropped the notebook to the floor as it continued to burn.
“Save yourself the trouble, Amelia. You can’t fly. You can’t do anything she tells you. You’re both useless. What a fucking waste.”
The second he turned to leave, I dove at the notebook.
It was fully engulfed.
The heat hitting my face as tears filled my eyes.
I reached for Steven and slammed him down on the notebook.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered to the stuffed turtle.
The feeling of fire must have hurt, but I had no choice. It was either burn Steven or burn down the house.
“I’m so, so, so, sorry,” I said as tears fell from my eyes and hit Steven’s plush shell.
That’s when I heard a loud scream.
I thought it was Steven.
But I knew better.
It was coming from downstairs.
Chapter 1
Words Not Yours
IN A LITTLE BIT
(Amelia)
I shouldn’t have been there.
I shouldn’t have put myself into this position.
I wasn’t chasing down some hardened criminal.
I wasn’t chasing down the biggest story of the decade.
Hell, it wasn’t even the biggest story of the night. I was sure of that.
All the words I felt like writing about him could have been posted online, but the opinion would have been biased, and I was sure that wouldn’t have gone over well.
And the truth…
I didn’t even want to be here.
That’s why I went around back after leaving. To slip away into the night and be forgotten. Take everything I had with me and go home to write up something so cliché it would only serve to prove why I stopped writing a long time ago.
The only thing I had was a note I found on the ground.
This folded up piece of paper that was none of my business but had been just sitting there. The one corner slowly trying to unfold with the softest of a breeze.
I picked it up and kept walking.
I unfolded it to see if it was something important. Money. Credit Cards. Something with someone’s name, so I could return it. Or maybe I was hoping for a story. Something to save the night for me.
As I turned the corner, I opened the piece of paper all the way.
I saw handwriting.
And it was very clear that this was an actual letter.
To Delilah,
No matter how hard I try to forget, each time I close my eyes, I see you. I see you standing in a blue dress at the top of a hill on a spring afternoon, surrounded by daisies. The way you reached down and gently touched them, not wanting to touch too hard. Your heart floated around you faster than the clouds that made the wind grab your hair.
I looked up.
This was… a love letter.
Right?
A love letter to someone named Delilah.
I then had two choices.
Put the letter back where I found it in case someone retraced their steps to find it.
Or keep reading the letter.
And find out what happened to Delilah.
Chapter 2
A Bridge to the Secrets
NOW
(Josh)
I watched the sun climb from the horizon while the rest of the town seemed to be sleeping. From my apartment window, I watched as lights came on one by one. Those waking for work or for school, families coming back to life for another day of being a family. If I
