Abigail
The window in our bedroom - my only freedom to the outside room - is small. Even Cora, with her tiny body, couldn’t escape through the frame.
I cannot call for help. Even trapped in this room - alone - for a month, I am grateful to have a roof over my head.
This knowledge doesn’t stop me from fantasizing about breaking free for hours on end. I wonder if I could still conjure my fire light with my hands tied behind my back. I bet I could burn free of these constraints.
But I dare not try.
Quinn
I regretted my suggestion as I exited my house. A light drizzle had overtaken the air, hinting at a bigger storm to come. Large gray clouds billowed overhead, but I was too stubborn to go back inside and search for a jacket. Chances were, I didn’t even own one that fit. My sweater would have to suffice.
The black car was still waiting outside my house. I smirked, knowing that in a few short hours, I would never have to see my FBI agent stalker ever again.
It took me 5 minutes to reach the park. My hair was frizzy from the condensation and my teeth chattered. Hopefully Atlas was as averse to the cold as I was and would cut our meeting short. Maybe the rain was a blessing in disguise.
Atlas was already waiting for me, sitting lazily on a swing.
“Quinn,” he smiled as I approached him.
“Atlas,” I said, sitting on the swing next to him.
A silence fell between us as I rocked slowly back and forth on the swing. I could feel his eyes on me, and I guessed he was trying to decide what to say next. He had asked for this meeting. I was determined not to take the lead on this conversation. We could sit in silence for all I cared - as long as Atlas called off the security.
“Have I done something to offend you?” Atlas asked softly. I kept my eyes on my feet, kicking a bit of wood chips back and forth. “Other than the security - which I did promise to end after today.”
I wasn’t sure what to say - how to answer his question. The offense wasn’t intentional. He couldn’t help that he existed.
“This has all just been,” I searched for the right word, “a lot.”
Atlas chuckled in response like he understood. I’m sure he did understand, if the story was true.
“I’m sure you have so many questions,” he noted. I could see his eyes searching my face in my peripheral vision. I kept my gaze to the ground.
I tried to think of a good question. Something that would keep things simple.
“How old are you?” I asked, finally looking at him. His face faltered, and I could tell the answer would be complicated. Great.
“Three hundred and nineteen,” he said, looking me dead in the eyes.
“Right,” I said, standing up to leave. I wasn’t in the mood for these games. If he wasn’t going to at least be truthful, I wasn’t going to stay. I would just have to find another way to get rid of the security.
He stood up and hesitated, looking like he wanted to put a hand on my shoulder. He decided otherwise and I mentally applauded his decision.
“Quinn, I’m telling you the truth,” he said.
I rolled my eyes.
“You really don’t believe me,” he sighed.
“No. I don’t.”
I turned on my heel, ready to make my grand exit. The rain was coming down harder now, anyway. A sign from nature.
“I can prove it to you,” he called after me.
I ignore him, stomping away.
“Your mother left you when you were ten years old,” he said suddenly. I froze, anger flashing through my chest.
“What?” I said, whirling around to face him.
“Your father is around but… but not really,” Atlas continued, “And your greatest desire-”
“Who told you that?” I growled, marching up to him, “Did Elaina-”
“No Quinn, Elaina didn’t tell me anything. Nobody did.”
Atlas took a step back, throwing his hands up in defense. I stopped in front of him, again searching for words to throw at him. To make him feel as vulnerable and… and infuriated as I did. Who was this boy? A stalker, sent from the depths of hell to make my life miserable.
“Your greatest desire is escape,” he said. “You crave it, dream about it.
“I don’t think that’s very much of a secret.”
He paused. Then-
“You were meant to have a sister. A baby sister, but she died only hours after being born. It tore your family apart,” he whispered.
“How do you-” but my voice cracked before I could finish, my eyes filling with backstabbing tears. No! I would not let him see me cry. I turned around again, willing my eyes to dry. Trying to regain control over my breathing.
Nobody had known about Ayla but my mother, father, and me - save for a few doctors. It was true. My mother gave birth to her when I was only 7 years old. My mother had held her, cried tears of happiness after she was born. My father and I’d gathered around them, beaming with pride and happiness as well. It was the most full my family had ever felt.
I gasped at the memory that overtook me, the memory that I’d try so hard to repress. Ayla, small and healthy and pink, suddenly turning blue in my mother’s arms. Her tiny pink mouth opening and closing as she gasped for breaths. My father screaming for the doctors to help us. Me screaming for my mother as she screamed for my dying sister.
And then she was gone. Her death came in less than a minute. There was nothing to be done, the doctors had told us.
This had happened over the summer. None of my friends had even known my mom was pregnant. I was shy back then, not ready to share that information. I spent the rest of the summer grieving, ignoring my friends’ knocks on the door. But on the first day of school, I marched in, head held high, and swore to never talk about that horrid day to anyone.
“I’m sorry,” he said clearly, interrupting my thoughts, “I don’t mean to stir up painful memories. I just needed to prove to you that I’m telling the truth.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat and blinked back the threatening tears.
“How did you know?” I said, barely audible.
“There was a prophecy, Quinn. Made 319 years ago. It predicted everything - exactly as it happened.”
A single tear slid down my cheek, but the rain was coming down so hard now that it was disguised against droplets on my face. I turned to face him.
“Your sister… I wasn’t even sure if it was true. You just confirmed it. The prophecy - everything up to this moment has been true,” Atlas said.
“Prophecy?” I asked.
“Yes, the w-woman who turned me to stone made a prophecy. She was a wretched, spiteful being. But all those years, I held onto hope that her words just might be true. And then you came along.”
“I didn’t want to kiss you,” I told him truthfully, “Elaina convinced me. It shouldn’t have been me.”
“That’s exactly what the prophecy said - reluctant, and beautiful, and true - you are just what she predicted you would be,” he said, taking a step closer to me. I took a step back in response.
I didn’t want to admit that his words were making sense. Or maybe my emotions were getting the better of me. My mind was weak, I needed time to think things over. Kylee would be furious with me if she knew what I was thinking. I couldn’t turn into Elaina - doe-eyed and feeble. I took another step back.
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“I have to go,” I said.
“Wait,” he said, “Quinn, there’s more to the prophecy I think you should know.”
I shook my head. I didn’t want to hear anymore.
“Please, Quinn, you need to hear it. Everything will make sense if you just listen,” he said.
I looked up at him through watery eyelashes, feeling more vulnerable than I ever had before. Part of me was screaming to run away. To leave him standing in the rain so I wouldn’t have to hear one more word of his nonsense. The other part, however, burned with curiosity. He’d known about my mom, my dad, Ayla. What other information did he have? It was the curiosity that held my feet firmly on the grass. I was frozen in place, waiting for him to speak but hoping he would change his mind - or tell me this whole thing was a joke. He didn’t.
The prince took a step closer to me, leaving less than two inches between us. Rain slid off his hair and into droplets on my face, looking up at him, desperate.
And then he said the words I never wanted to hear.
“Quinn, we’re going to fall in love.”
*****
I slouched low in the faded armchair in my living room, sipping the strong, dark liquor my father had come home with the night before. The heavy thud of the raindrops hitting roof roof, mixed with the warmth of the drink soothed me, calmed my racing heart. I picked up my phone and sent a text to Jamie, short and sweet: Come over?
I put my phone down in my lap and took another sip. I wanted to forget the park. I wanted to forget the look on Atlas’s face when I’d left him in the rain. Slowly backing away from him before turning and launching home at full speed. Perhaps if I stayed hidden long enough, allowed the sweet oblivion of intoxication to take over my mind and live there for long enough, my part in the prophecy would disappear. Because I wanted nothing to do with it.
Atlas was right about my desire for escape. I wanted to escape Fairview more than anything else. I had no money, or prospects, or family outside of my father. I was stuck here until after graduation. But for now, I could make inebriated escapes.
Falling in love with someone from Fairview - I would never escape if that happened. I would end up pregnant at 19, just like the other girls in this town, and buy another rotting shack and raise more rotting kids. I could see their hopeless faces clearly in my mind, because I’d worn that face once. The never ending cycle of hope and defeat, hope and defeat. I swore to break it.
I checked my phone. Jamie hadn’t answered. I gulped my drink and checked again. Still nothing.
I threw my phone across the small living room, onto the couch in front of me, in frustration and chugged the rest of my liquor. The burning made me cough, but I welcomed the familiar discomfort. My throat craved water, but I ignored it, pouring more brown booze into my cup.
There was a sound at the front door, someone fumbling with the knob. I froze. It was only 8 pm, way too early for my dad to be home from the bar. But the door swung open, and there he was, swaying tall in his drunken glory.
He took one step into the house and his sleepy eyes fell on me. I stared right back at him, glass in one hand, liquor bottle in the other. Slowly, I brought the glass to my mouth and took a sip, daring him to say something. Daring him to rip the bottle from my hand.
He just chuckled - a deep, husky, humorless sound. Then, he walked past me and down the hallway. I heard his bedroom door open and then the sound of him collapsing on the bed.
*****
Jamie showed up an hour later, hair soaking wet and tshirt clinging to his body, making him look particularly boyish. I stood aside to let him in. He gazed at the half empty liquor bottle on the coffee table.
“You started without me,” he said, picking up the bottle and pouring himself a glass.
“I was bored,” I shrugged, taking a sip of my own.
“Bored,” he asked as I took a seat on the couch, “Is that all I am to you then? Entertainment?”
“Well I expect I play the same role for you - that is when handjob Hannah isn’t around.”
Jamie rolled his eyes and took a seat next to me.
“That was a one time thing. Had to experience it for myself, you know.”
I glanced over at him, “Was it as dry and horrid as they say?”
He smiled, a teasing glint in his eye. Slowly, he cupped the back of my neck with his right hand and pulled me in, meeting my lips with his.
“Worse,” he whispered, and then went back to kissing me.
He kissed me slowly at first, frustratingly slow. He trailed his hand clumsily down my thigh and I tried not to jerk away in annoyance. I didn’t want slow. I opened my mouth, coaxing his open as well so I could slide my tongue inside. He met mine, sensing my impatience. I wrapped both my arms around his neck and swung one leg over his lap so I was straddling him.
“Shit,” he muttered, clearly taken aback by my urgency.
“Shush,” I growled, not taking my mouth away from his.
One arm went to the small of my back, the other one tangled into my hair. He pressed me against him, and I only pressed harder, grinding my hips. I sucked his lip and put his hand on his chest, dragging it lower- lower-
“Wait, Quinn,” he yelled, “Oh-oh fuck.”
He pulled away from me, pushing me off his lap.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, but his face gave me the answer I needed. “Oh.”
“I’m - fuck, I’m really sorry. I haven’t…” he searched for the words, cheeks turning bright red. “I gotta go.”
He stood up quickly, hands hovering over his crotch.
“No, Jamie, wait,” I called sheepishly.
“I’ll see you in school,” was the last thing Jamie said to me before he was out the door. It slammed shut behind him.
What the hell?
I laid back on the couch, groaning in frustration. I put a pillow over my head, pressing it so hard I could barely breathe. I was trapped in total darkness. Totally unsatisfied.
I must have lost control of my thoughts when they drifted to Atlas - his blue eyes and dark hair. Atlas was muscular, manly. I shuttered as I remembered his hands holding my hair that night after Jamie’s.
Jamie.
Oh what a disaster. Jamie’s body paled in comparison. Jamie was a boy. Atlas was-
Stop it I said to myself, taking the pillow off my face. I sat up quickly, trying to get the image out of my head.
It took me hours to fall asleep. I tossed and turned, picturing Atlas standing in the rain, vulnerable yet strong. I kept telling myself that I wasn’t different from any other girl in this stupid town. They were all restless over him. He was a conventionally attractive guy. It was only natural that I was feeling so - so attracted to him.
It was Jamie I dreamed of that night, however. Not the Jamie I knew now, but the one I’d known as a child. I dreamed of him chasing me around the playground, pulling my hair and throwing sand at me. A child, not a man.
*****
I slept past noon the next day, and stayed in bed until it was dark again. I had no reason to get up. I didn’t want to see Kylee because I knew I would have to tell her about the previous day’s encounter with Atlas. I had yet to make up with Elaina, but I needed energy to have that conversation.
I did everything I could to keep my mind from wandering to yesterday - the conversation, the mishap with Jamie, my dreams. I scrolled mindlessly on my phone for hours. I went down a rabbit hole of true crime online. Around 7, I got a text from Kylee.
Wanna party? Hannah’s throwing down tonight.
I sprang out of bed, feeling excited for the first time in days.
Fuck yeah, I replied.
I threw on a black crop top that would have been sexy if I had any boobs. Unfortunately, I didn’t yet have much in that department. I threw on a pair of oversized boyfriend jeans and some knockoff doc martens. I hadn’t washed my hair, so it went into a loose braid in the back of my head. I smeared on mascara, and the look was complete. I stared at myself in the mirror - no boobs, no ass, but at least I was skinny. I stuck my tongue out at myself and winked.
A knock on my door told me Kylee was ready to go.
Dry handjob Hannah’s party was raging when we arrived. It felt like everyone in our grade was crammed into her tiny house, yelling at each other over the music. The house was musty and hot from a hundred teenage bodies. I reached for the double wide I was sharing with Kylee and took a long swig.
“This is awesome!” Kylee yelled. I just nodded in agreement, the wine bottle still on my lips.
The music grew louder and my limbs grew lighter. I closed my eyes and threw one hand up, swaying to the music. The bottle of rose felt heavy in my left hand. Eyes closed, I let the music take me - my hips, my feet, my neck. I felt a pair of legs behind me, and I turned my head to see Kylee dancing, as free as I felt. I turned towards her, throwing my arms around her neck. We danced closely, our legs overlapping. I could feel us catching the attention of the guys dancing closest to us.
The song ended and we threw our heads back in laughter. A few of the guys surrounding us clapped, and continued dancing as the next song began. Kylee tilted her head back, and I stood on my toes to pour wine into her mouth. It dripped down her cheeks, staining her white crop top with droplets of pink.
Kylee took the bottle from me. I started to lean back, but I knocked into someone in the crowd. I looked over my shoulder at Jamie, drunker than myself and obviously surprised to see me.
“Hey Jamie!” I yelled, flinging an arm out to give him a hug.
He ducked underneath me and disappeared into the crowd. I gave Kylee an awkward, one-sided frown.
“Well fuck you, too, I guess,” I yelled in his direction. Kylee just laughed, still nodding her head to the bumping music. Something caught her eye and her face fell in disgust.
“Looks like the prince has decided to grace us with his presence,” she shouted in my ear. I looked over my shoulder to see Atlas coming through the front door, looking totally out of place. While the West Side kids here wore baggy clothes and hand me downs, Atlas was clad in a black leather jacket, his hair gelled neatly to one side. Everything about him screamed “East Side.”
He scanned the crowd until his eyes met mine. I quickly looked away, grabbing Kylee’s waist and pulling her closer to dance. I felt his eyes on me, and I looked everywhere but him. A warm presence pressed behind me. I turned my head slightly to see who it was - Jonah Saunders. We didn’t run in the same friend group, but I thought he was cute nonetheless.
I took a step back, grinding my backside against him to the beat of the music. He wrapped one hand around my front. I looked up just in time to see Atlas watching, livid. I wanted to smirk at his reaction - the fact that he thought he had any claim over me. I took another gulp of wine and turned my back on him. I looked up at Jonah and put my hand around his neck, pulling him down to kiss me.
The kiss was messy and sweaty, and I welcomed it. I knew Atlas was watching, which only made me kiss Jonah harder. We stayed like that for two more songs. We danced on each other and shared sloppy kisses. When the second song ended, I pulled away. I scanned the crowd for Atlas, but he had disappeared.
Kylee was only a few feet away, dancing with a boy from the year below us.
I grabbed her shoulder and said in her ear, “I’m going to find the bathroom.”
She just nodded and kept dancing. I squeezed through dancers, my eyes still searching for him. He wasn’t in line for the bathroom. I also checked both bedrooms, and both times walked in on people doing things I never want to see again in my life. I also didn’t see him in the kitchen, although I did find half a handle of whiskey. I grabbed it and went back to the living room.
I drank and danced and drank some more. Time began to slow and then speed up. The floor was unsteady under my feet, and it was other people’s bodies in the crowd that kept me from falling over. I eventually met back up with Kylee, covered in hickeys from her 11th grade friend. I wanted to say something snarky, but my lips couldn’t find my mouth.
Kylee’s eyes fell to the now empty bottle of whiskey in my hand. She shot me a concerned look, but I waved her off.
I tried to tell her I was going to go outside to get some air, but it came out like “Eymgonagetsmair.”
She looked like she wanted to follow me, but her beau grabbed her hand and pulled her close again. I disappeared while she was distracted.
Outside, the cold air bit my cheeks. I held on to the side of the house, trying to keep my balance but failing miserably. I knew I was going to be sick, but my brain couldn’t find my mouth. Then, the earth was coming closer, closer, closer to my face. I wanted to reach out and catch myself, but my arms were completely numb. Blackness enveloped me before I hit the ground, and I knew that the whiskey had been a huge mistake. The straw that broke the camel’s back.