Heavy (Heavy Hearts Book 1)

by Sarah Jane Duncan

  The sound of a car pulling in the driveway quickly scares away any stupid crying I was going to do and replaces my sadness with fear. My heart rate picks up, and I hold my breath, waiting for the front door to open.

  Please let it be mum. Please let it be mum. Please let it be mum.

  Still in the kitchen, I stay out of view from the front door but keep my eyes focused on the hall mirror, which gives me a good view of the entrance and anyone walking in.

  My heart sinks as dirty blonde hair comes into view. I struggle to breathe as my brother walks through the front door, followed by some guy I don’t know. Panic escalates my heart when I realise they are heading my way, so I quickly make myself look busy by filling a glass with water from the tap.

  My brother, or should I say, half-brother, walks into the kitchen, spotting me straight away and narrowing his eyes. I force myself to look calm and unaffected as I take a sip of the water.

  “Ali,” he says in a growled greeting, using the shortened name for Alexis. I’ve never liked it. Abbey started calling me Lexi when we were five, and ever since I have made myself known as that. My parents refer to me as Alexis even after I begged them not to when I was younger, but not Mike. No. That arsehole has his own name for me. Ali.

  I raise my brow to him, not wanting to answer in fear that my voice will give away how scared I am.

  The guy with him turns his head towards me and flicks his ratty brown hair off his face, his lifeless brown eyes raking over my body.

  “Far out, Mike! This sexy little thing, your sister?”

  “Sure fucking is,” Mike smiles as if he’s proud. Sick bastard.

  Mike is seven years older than me, now getting close to his mid-twenties. He’s the result of my dad’s brief first marriage to Suzie, a dark-haired hippy that he married in a drug-induced frenzy during his college days up in Sydney. Their marriage lasted three months, but it was enough time to produce the devil's spawn, Mike.

  Growing up, my only interactions with Mike were during school holidays when he would fly down to Victoria to stay with us. To me, he has always been strange. We never got along, and he creeped me out with his odd behaviour and attempts to hurt me when my parent’s backs were turned. When I went to them to ‘dob’ on him, they would always tell me that siblings fight sometimes, and we need to work it out ourselves.

  As Mike got older, his interactions with me became even stranger, and I remember feeling scared of him when I was about 12 after I woke to him watching me sleep one night. After that, he stayed away for a while and didn’t come back for visits until a few months ago when my dad advised me that Mike was moving in.

  “She keen?” Mike’s ratty haired friend asks him.

  Mike sits at the dining table and starts unpacking food from a Maccas paper bag, placing a burger and fries on the table.

  “Not yet, but she will be.” Mike deliberately licks his lip in a vulgar way.

  I nearly gag.

  “Where’s the old bitch?” Mike mumbles with a mouth full of fries. His stringy hair has grown so long that some strands nearly get caught in his mouth as he speaks and chews at the same time.

  The smell of his food reaches me, making my tummy rumble again.

  “No idea,” I shrug and move to leave the room.

  “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Mike hisses, and I freeze, turning to him with a questioning raised brow.

  Mike's mate chuckles to himself, pleased with the way Mike speaks to me. Douche!

  “Why are there locks on the doors upstairs?”

  I gulp, “Privacy,” I say and walk off again.

  A loud crack pierces my ears, and I spin, heart in my throat, to see Mike standing with his hands slammed down on the table in anger. His nostrils flare, and his dull blue eyes burn with disdain.

  “Dad gave you permission to get a lock for your room?” Mike's snarling voice makes it hard for me to answer straight away.

  “He paid the bill.” It’s not a lie. Dad did pay the bill. He just didn’t question what bill he was paying.

  Mike’s mate has a devious grin on his face as he looks between us, all while shovelling fries into his mouth.

  Mike glares at me for a moment and then hisses while sitting back down to his food, “Fuck off, will ya’!”

  Twisting, I race out of the room, gladly obliging. Taking two steps at a time, I climb the stairs to the second floor, eager to get to the safety of my room. With shaky hands, I fumble with the key that’s on the chain around my neck and unlock my door.

  A few days ago, I arranged for locks to be installed on the upstairs rooms. Well, all rooms except for Mike’s. I arranged to have traditional internal locks installed for the toilet and bathroom that you flick on when you enter the room to maintain privacy. On my bedroom door, I had a deadbolt installed in the hope of keeping people out 24/7. I didn’t have the money to pay for it, but like with all of our bills, I had it sent to my dad's secretary in the city, and it got paid.

  Once I’m inside my room, I make sure to lock my door before sinking to the floor, no longer able to keep myself together. Tears stream down my face while I try to stay silent, but I feel myself breaking because it’s all too much. Pulling out my phone, I open Spotify, and Billie Eilish’s voice immediately fills my room with ‘idontwannabeyouanymore.’

  Throwing myself onto my bed face first, I bury my head in my pillow and scream. I yell and cry and scream some more, letting my shame from last night, and from inside the walls of this house flow out of my body, until I’m left in a trembling mess and cry myself to sleep.

  CHAPTER THREE

  A noise jolts me from sleep, and I instantly panic. My room is dark, with a hint of moonlight filtering through my open curtains. A rattling sound gains my attention, and I comprehend that it’s the lock on my bedroom door jiggling.

  Bolting upright, I blindly search for my phone sweeping my hands over my sheets until I find it next to my pillow. The screen reads 10:31 pm. My music no longer fills the room; my playlist ending long ago. From underneath my bedroom door, I can see the hall light seeping through, and the shadow of feet standing just on the other side. As the lock jiggles again, my eyes dart towards my window. Should I make a run for it? Should I sneak out and call Abbey? Maybe I can stay there for the night?

  The muffled curse from my brother Mike filters through the silence before the shadow moves away from my door.

  “I am okay. I am okay.” I whisper to myself, trying to calm my nerves. Moving off my bed, I double-check that my door is still locked, even though I know Mike couldn’t open it moments ago. I’m paranoid as hell, and relief washes over me when I confirm the lock has done its job. I inhale deep, needing to calm my pounding heart, and reminding myself over and over that I’m okay. As risky as it was knowing all too well that my dad would have said no, I’m thankful that I had the lock installed.

  My mum doesn’t know about the locks. She wasn’t home when I had them installed, and she never comes upstairs. I had asked both of my parents repeatedly about having them put on when I found out Mike was moving in, but it fell on deaf ears. As far as I’m concerned, they can all go fuck themselves. It was a necessity.

  Not wanting to turn my light on and alert Mike that I’m awake, I use my phone torch to illuminate my white ceiling which offers a light glow to filter across my boring off-white walls. So many times over the years, I asked my parents to paint my walls pink or purple or yellow, and not once did they say yes. It was always a “don’t be ridiculous Alexis”, or “it will just be a faze that we will have to paint over again in a year when you change your mind.” Eh! My parents are as boring as bat shit! Just like my bedroom. They never even allowed me to put up a damn poster. Like, who does that?

  The only splash of personality is my hot pink doona, my black Netflix and Chill cushion, and my charcoal fleecy throw blanket. The mirror above my dresser is the only other thing that hints to my life. Covering the frame are assorted pictures of my friends and me from over the year
s, and when I take the time to study them, they always bring a smile to my face.

  Two problems present themselves right now. One is that I need to pee, and the other is that I still haven’t eaten, and the intense hunger is making me feel sick. Knowing Mike is still out there somewhere in the house means there is no way I’m stepping foot outside my bedroom door. My only other option is my bedroom window.

  Grabbing a handful of tissues off my bedside table, I move to the window, and like I’ve done so many times before, climb out onto the roof. Moving slowly, trying to avoid making noise, I shuffle across the roof tiles ignoring their icy chill. I was 12 when I discovered this escape route, where I found my way down off the roof by swinging my legs over the edge and easing myself down onto the fence below. Back then, I used it to sneak out with Abbey, Marcus, and Jared when we would roam the night streets and dream of a future filled with happiness. We were so naive. Marcus and Jared grew up with Abbey and me, helping us get into trouble and helping us talk our way out of it. My childhood would have been lonely if it weren’t for the three of them.

  My feet hit solid ground as I make my escape and creep through my backyard to the back corner where an overgrown garden resides. The bushy area provides adequate cover, and I do my business, making use of the tissues. Abbey and I used to play in these bushes with our dolls for hours when we were kids. Now I’m using the spot as a toilet—my how times have changed.

  When I finish, I climb over the fence into my neighbour’s backyard. Creeping around their shed, I dispose of the tissues in their bin and check to see if Mr and Mrs Brown are anywhere in sight. Their large kitchen overlooks the backyard, so I stick to the shadows hoping not to get caught. Making a run for it, I dash across the yard to the small orchid to investigate their fruit trees. These fruit trees are now my fucked up version of takeaway food.

  Since it’s winter, there’s not a lot of options. I bypass the lemons and pick a handful of mandarins, slipping them into the pocket of my hoodie. Turning to sneak back across the yard, I freeze in place when I see the dark silhouette of a person standing before me.

  “If you’re hungry, I can go make you a sandwich,” the sweet voice of my 12-year-old neighbour, Valarie says, watching my every move.

  “Ahh... um, no, that’s okay, thanks anyway.”

  “I don’t mind,” Valarie says, looking genuine with her big sincere eyes that stand out even in the dark.

  Glancing towards her house, I shake my head. “I’m sorry for taking the fruit without asking,” I laugh nervously, “I just really felt like some fruit, you know?” I hope she doesn’t see through the lie. I hate fruit, but it’s what’s on the menu for tonight’s dinner.

  Deciding I should probably just leave, I retreat through Valarie’s backyard. She surprises me by following and coming to my side, looking up with a big smile. Valarie is a pretty little thing with her jet black hair and ebon eyes to match. Her features look Asian like her mum. I don’t know her mum's origins exactly, and I’ve never asked not wanting to be rude. It doesn’t really matter to me where their bloodlines come from. They have always been friendly to me, unlike some of our other snobby neighbours.

  “Why did you climb out of your window?”

  Taken back a little by her forward question, I work to keep a straight face, “It seemed like a fun thing to do.”

  “It’s kind of dangerous,” she states, and I nod.

  “Yes, you’re right. It is,” I quicken my pace, “I won’t do it again.”

  “You do it all the time,” Valarie accuses.

  I stop and sigh, looking at her young, innocent face and nod, “Yes, I do. I shouldn’t, but I do.”

  “Why?” She asks curiously, sounding too mature to be wearing pink unicorn pyjamas.

  “Shouldn't you be in bed? It’s kind of late.” I deflect.

  “Shouldn’t you?” Valarie’s quick wit makes me smile. She doesn’t miss a thing.

  “I’m a fair bit older than you, so no, I’m never in bed this early.”

  “Why do you climb out of your window?” She’s not going to give up, is she?

  I sigh, “Different reasons.”

  “Like?” She asks, testing my patience.

  “Sometimes, I meet up with friends. Sometimes I like to go for walks. Tonight I wanted fruit.”

  She nods, considering what I said.

  “Why don’t you just use the front door?”

  “Where’s the fun in that?” I ask, and she raises a dark brow at me.

  “Okay, I can see I’m not going to pull the wool over your eyes, am I?”

  Valarie shakes her head, “Nope.”

  “I use my window sometimes because I shouldn’t be leaving my house.”

  “So, you sneak out?” Valarie states more than asks.

  I nod, and at that, she nods too.

  “I can’t sneak out of my window like you do.” Valarie turns to look at her house, and my eyes follow.

  It’s a tall double story house, built like a square box. There is no first story roof or eaves; it’s all just one tall block.

  “No, I guess you can’t,” I agree.

  “I don’t need to climb out a window to sneak out, anyway. I just use the door.”

  I smile, and Valarie looks at me with a mischievous grin on her face.

  “I better go sneak back in,” I chuckle.

  “Okay, Lexi. Come over for fruit any time.” And with that, Valarie smiles and skips back towards her house.

  I shake my head, smiling genuinely for the first time today. Valarie is a smart kid. I can tell she will give the boys a run for their money when she is older. She has always been fascinated by me, although I don’t know why. I’m no one special. She’s an only child, and I rarely see or hear her parents. She’s probably very lonely in that big old house. I babysat her a handful of times a few years ago, but there really was no need for me to be there, other than to have company. Valarie may only be twelve, but I swear her soul is older than mine.

  I make my way back over my side of the fence and climb back onto the roof, and through my bedroom window. The fruit is devoured in no time, leaving me surprisingly full. Sleeping most of the day has left me wide awake, so I settle back on my bed with my phone, laptop, and earphones needing to keep occupied.

  There’s a text message from Abbey on my phone. It’s a picture of her and Daniel at a Chinese restaurant. I smile and send back a love heart emoji. I haven’t seen Abbey this happy or into a boy before. It’s nice to see even though there’s a part of me that’s envious. It’s a part of my cold heart that I’m trying hard to ignore. The part of me that longs for someone to look at me the way Daniel looks at her. To have someone who cares so deeply for me that they want to spend every waking moment with me. I didn’t really think that sort of thing existed until I witnessed it with Maddie and Kyle, and now with Abbey and Daniel. I guess it doesn’t just happen in the movies and books. I wonder if I’ll ever be lucky enough to find that sort of love?

  A new SnapChat message pops up on my screen from Marcus. I frown realising he has sent me a private message. He usually just chats to me along with the other guys from school in the group chat we have.

  I’m the only girl left in their group chat. Over the last couple of years they have removed the other girls but for some reason left me in it. As weird as that sounds, it’s not at all that weird to me. I find the idiotic banter between the boys more calming than the persistent bitching from Tasha and some of the girls.

  Opening SnapChat, I tap on the message from Marcus.

  Marcus-Grady

  Hey Lex. I heard Tasha’s party was a blast. Did you have a good time?

  Does he know how wasted I got? Are rumours already spreading?

  And why is he sending me this message privately? I know we were close friends growing up, but we haven’t been that close for a long time. This seems weird. Not weird enough for me to shut my phone off and ignore though, so I type out my response.

  Lexi-West

&nbs
p; Hi Marcus. The party was great. Tasha’s parties are always fun!

  Where were you? It’s not like you to miss a party.

  Lies! Lies! Lies!

  The party was shit as far as I’m concerned.

  Marcus-Grady

  I’m glad you had a good time ☺

  I couldn’t make it because I had to help my Aunty and cousin move house. My cousin will be starting school with us tomorrow.

  Lexi-West

  Nice! Is he is year 11 too? I remember you used to go to Melbourne all the time when we were kids to visit your cousin, but that’s all I can remember.

  Marcus-Grady

  Yep, he’s doing year 11. You have a good memory Lex. You used to get shitty at me for leaving you with Jared and Abbey for a couple of weeks each summer.

  Lexi-West

  That’s right, I remember that now. It’s because Abbey was always so in love with Jared and she would fall all over him while I just sat around trying to ignore what was going on. When you were there, it meant I had someone to help distract me from witnessing Jared trying to fight her off all the time. It’s funny, Abbey never did win him over.

  Marcus-Grady

  Well, there was that one time when we stole the bottle of Jim Beam from your mum and shared it between us. Jared gave in and kissed her that night.

  Lexi-West

  OMG, I forgot all about that! Jared starting barfing after that kiss and didn’t stop until the next night. I don’t think he even remembered kissing Abbey.

  Marcus-Grady

  He didn’t. Still doesn’t believe it when I remind him now. That shit is too funny.

  Lexi-West

  Yeah!

  Our chat goes quiet for a minute. If we were in the same room having this conversation, it would probably be awkward.

  Marcus-Grady

  Well, I’d better get ready for bed. I’ll make sure to introduce you to the guy who used to steal me away from you each summer when I see you at school tomorrow. ☺

  Why does his comment sound so personal? Like our friendship was more than it was? Fuck my head hurts. Why does everything seem so complicated lately?