Her heart started racing. Was this her chance to get away, or would she end up back in the barn? He wouldn't do that, though. He was too eager for her to meet his parents.
She tip-toed into the hallway leading to the front door. He was down the other hall, near the bedrooms.
"Did you need something?" he asked.
"No. I was looking for something, but I…don't see it." She hurried back into the living room. Going through the front door wasn't going to work. If she went that way again and he was still there testing her, he would definitely know something was up.
Macy wandered around the living room, looking at the pictures again. His parents looked like nice, happy people, but they had raised him, so who knew? They could be monsters, too. She looked at another picture of Heather. It was unnerving, because the picture could have been Macy—especially with the new haircut and color.
The house was still quiet. She looked around at the big windows. If she was able to open one and get outside, she should be able to get enough of a head start to get away. It didn't matter that she had no idea where she was. She could figure it out when she found a road.
Holding her breath, she looked around. She couldn't see anything stopping her. The windows weren't locked down. This was her chance, and she had to take it right then. Who knew when she would be able to try to get away again?
She walked over to one of the windows. Her pulse was on fire as she looked for a way to unlock the window. It was unlike any window she had ever seen. There were ropes at the top, which were obviously used for opening and closing it somehow. She would have to open it and hope for the best. The window only needed to be opened enough for her to squeeze out.
Macy saw a knob and twisted it around. Something clicked. She turned around to make sure that he hadn't returned. She was still alone. She put her fingers in two grooves at the bottom and pulled up. The window opened!
She pulled it further, but not much because it was surprisingly heavy. That's when a loud, high-pitched screaming sound surrounded her.
The alarm.
He came around the hallway, glaring at her. The look on his face was scarier than it had been at any other point. Macy backed up and looked at the window, which still wasn't open wide enough for her to squeeze through.
"I…I was just—"
Eyes narrowed, he grabbed her elbow, squeezing painfully. He dragged her to the front door where a coat rack stood. He pushed it aside and punched buttons on a white box. The alarm finally stopped.
"The alarm is set. If any of the doors or windows are opened, that horrible alarm you hate so much will go off. It looks like you figured that out already, didn't you?" He squeezed harder, his eyebrows coming together.
He grabbed her other arm and shook her so that her head hit one of the hooks on the coat rack. He shoved her back, digging her back into the wooden rack. Jackets pushed around her face. "I thought we had an understanding. You were going to obey. We need to get the house cleaned before your grandparents get here, Heather." He yanked her back and threw her against the opposite wall.
She hit her head again. "I thought we could use some fresh air. Look at the window. It's only opened a crack."
He grabbed her shoulders and pushed her further against the wall and lifted her so that she wasn't able to touch the floor. "No fresh air! We're already out in the country. We couldn't ask for better quality air. Don't do anything to change the house—ever again! Do you understand me?" Spit flew onto her face. Macy couldn't wipe it away.
She nodded.
His angry eyes came closer to hers. "It looks as though I'm going to have to do the cleaning myself. You're going to spend some time in your room and think about what you've done. When your grandparents get here, you need to be on your best behavior. Do you understand?"
"Yes." She squirmed, hoping he would let go of her.
"When they get here, you're not to try anything funny. Nothing! The only reason I'm not sending you back to the barn is because they're so close to arriving. Keep that in mind." He shoved her and then let go.
Macy fell to the ground and then stood up. At least she had tried to get away. It hadn't worked, but she had tried.
Discovery
The bedroom door closed behind Macy. She could hear something slide against it, keeping her inside. She sighed, looking around the room.
She needed to calm down. Obviously, there was no texting or online games, but maybe Heather had some books. Then Macy could at least escape into her mind for a little while.
She couldn't see any books, but there had to be something. Macy would even take classic literature at that point, as much as she would have preferred to read about some hot vampires or werewolves.
Where would books be? Maybe near the stuffed animals. Macy had all but ignored that part of the room. There was a small shelf underneath the little hammock holding the toys. She sat down and looked at it. The top row was full of DVDs, which she wouldn't be able to watch.
Macy scanned the books on the next shelf. Most of them were literary—things teachers forced kids to read. One had an interesting title that she had never heard of. She grabbed it and noticed that it felt odd.
What was that? She narrowed her eyes and looked inside the book. It didn't open as easily as a book should. When she had it open, she saw that it had been hollowed out and another book rested in it. It looked like a diary.
Her heart stopped. Was that Heather's journal?
This might be her opportunity to find out more about what happened.
Her pulse pounded so loud in her ears that she was afraid Chester would hear it. She took a couple of deep, long breaths. She had to focus. Once she calmed down, she turned to the first entry. Her hands shook.
The first entries were pretty basic stuff.
Heather liked some boy at school, she hated homework, one girl in the neighborhood wouldn't stop bothering her…wait. Neighborhood? Where had they been living? Definitely not on the farm. There was nothing even close to neighbors. Not once had Macy been able to see anything other than farmland.
She wanted to read every word in the journal, but knew she didn't have much time left. She flipped through the pages, skimming the first few lines of each entry.
One caught her attention about a third of the way through. My mom is still not back. Macy stopped. She had never bought the story about Heather's mom running off with some guy in France—not that Macy would blame her for running from Chester.
Macy went back to the previous entry and read it word for word. More about the boy that Heather adored. Heather wasn't sure if the boy even knew she was alive, but she couldn't stop thinking about him. It was getting in the way of her schoolwork, and her dad could tell something was up. She wasn't going to admit to him that she was distracted by a boy. He would freak out.
No kidding.
She read on. Heather went on about the boy's eyes and some answer he gave in a class. Then Macy held her breath. His name was Jared. Heather had been in love with a boy named Jared. Chills ran down her spine. That couldn't be a coincidence. Obviously, that was why Chester had chosen that name. She looked back at the paper.
This morning when I got up, Dad was eating breakfast alone. That was really strange, because Mom and Dad pretty much—like always—eat together. Then I joined them for a few minutes since they make me have breakfast every day. I'm like the only kid in school who eats breakfast. Everyone else sleeps in as long as possible and then eats cold pastries or something. Anyway, I have no idea why I'm going on about that. Guess this is my place to ramble.
So I asked Dad where she was, and he wouldn't look me in the eyes. That was weird, but I was worried that she was sick or something, so I didn't really think much about it. He just said she wasn't there. Obviously, I could see that. So I kept asking questions, and he finally looked at me.
The look in his eyes was scary. I'd never seen anything like it. I wanted to run out of the house. He said she had some stuff to take care of. Of course I wanted to kno
w what kind of stuff, but he wouldn't say. I wanted to know when she'd be back, but he wouldn't tell me that either. He said don't worry about it. Don't worry? How was I supposed to do that?
He told me to sit down and eat. I didn't feel like eating at all, but you know how he gets. I made a small bowl of oatmeal. I didn't think I could keep any more down. I knew I'd probably piss him off, but I kept asking questions about Mom. He wouldn't tell me anything. Finally, he slammed a fist on the table and told me to go to school.
Since I knew I wouldn't get anything else out of him, I got up and left. I hope she's okay. It's so weird that she hasn't gotten a hold of me. I mean, she could text me or send me an email. Usually, she sends me goofy texts in the middle of the day. She says she wanted to make sure I smiled at least once at school.
There hasn't been anything new on her profile either. She always posts articles that she finds interesting. By always, I mean lots every day. The last was last night. Almost a full day ago. Her friends are even posting, asking if she's okay. Wish I could answer for her and say something, but Dad won't get off his laptop and give me any answers.
Guess that means I gotta get my homework done now or I'm going to have more late assignments. I'm close to a few teachers contacting my parents about that. I keep hoping Mom will come through the door. Doesn't she know I would worry? Why would she leave without saying anything?
Macy read on, skimming over the next few entries. Mostly, it was Heather pouring out her worries about her mom. She wanted to know if Heather ever found out. Macy wanted to know if Chester had killed her mom.
A few pages later, an entry started with My mom is back. Macy held her breath and continued reading.
When I got home from school today, Mom was sitting on our couch. She didn't even look up when I came into the room. I stood right in front of her, but she was staring off to the side. She was holding on to the blanket so tight her hands were turning white.
I kept saying 'Mom' over and over, but it was like she couldn't hear me. I started crying and begged her to look at me. Finally, she turned, but it felt like she was looking through me. I finally sat down and leaned my head against her. I was crying, but she didn't even notice. She never ignores me when I'm upset. Never!
What had happened to her? Where had she been?
We sat there not talking for so long, I finally stopped crying. There was nothing left in me. I started asking her questions about where she had been and stuff, but she kept acting like she wasn't even there. She wouldn't say a thing! Not one thing. I asked the same questions over and over. I hoped that maybe she would finally answer one of them.
I know I sound like a baby, but I want my Mommy back. I missed her so much when she was gone. It was so hard not talking with her. Some kids hate talking with their parents, but not me. My mom is my best friend. I can tell her anything—anything at all. She doesn't judge me about anything, no matter what it is. Boys, kids doing drugs, you name it. Nothing's off limits with her. She doesn't go crazy like some of my friends' parents.
Even when I wanted a pink streak in my hair, she was behind me. Dad said no way, but Mom let me get one underneath so I could pull my hair up at school and all the kids could see it there, then I could take it down before Dad got back from work. She gets me. Not even my friends get me like she does. I can't even explain it.
Macy sat back, taking it in. It must have been nice for Heather to be able to talk to her mom about anything. The pink streak reminded Macy of Zoey—not that Zoey would ever want to wear anything pink, but Zoey always wanted to do things to stand out.
What had happened to Heather's mom? Macy had been certain that she had disappeared forever. It wouldn't have surprised her if she was dead. Would this diary tell her what happened to them?
She listened, not hearing anything. The last thing she wanted was to be caught reading the diary. Chester would take it away.
My mom wouldn't get up for dinner. She just sat on that couch staring at nothing. I didn't even know if she knew she was home. Why wouldn't she acknowledge me? Not even a nod of the head or something? Something!
I couldn't even look at Dad. I knew he had something to do with this. Who knows what? But something, and he wasn't talking. The stupid jerk was acting like everything was fine. He thought I should be happy that she was back. Of course I'm glad she's back, but I'm not even close to happy about how she's acting. How can he not be concerned?
After dinner, I got my homework and did it on the couch. I talked to Mom like everything was normal, even though it's totally not. It couldn't be more not-normal. I'm pissed off, but trying to put on a smile. I told her about my friends and the latest drama with the stupid cheerleaders who have been playing pranks on us. Then I talked about Jared and how I still couldn't bring myself to talk to him, and about Parker who likes me, but I really don't like him like that.
Dad overheard me talking about the boys and he got upset. He lives in the dark ages and thinks I shouldn't have any interest in boys. Never mind the fact that he had girlfriends when he was younger than me. For some reason, I'm supposed to be above that. Hypocrite. Sometimes I think Mom and I need to move across the country to get away from him.
I don't know if she'll ever get over what's going on though. I mean, I hate to think this, but what if she has brain damage? What if she's never going to be herself again? I can't think of anything else that would make her like this.
Macy read on. There were several more days' worth of entries where Heather essentially said the same things. Her mom wouldn't respond to anything. She wasn't sure if her mom was even eating, but she had to be getting up to go to the bathroom at some points, so Heather thought maybe she was eating, only not in front of her.
Then about four days later, something changed.
I slept in really late today. Usually, I sleep in on the weekends, but not like this. It was afternoon when I woke up. I guess I needed it after all the stress of worrying about Mom. Even with having her back, my stress is still through the roof. Maybe worse. Before, I could at least tell myself that it was possible she was on a personal vacation. I don't have that now.
Anyway, I got up and Mom was standing by the window. Standing! I didn't know if I should say anything or not. I was almost afraid that if I said something, she'd like go back to the couch and never leave again. So I went and stood by her. She didn't seem to notice.
I whispered to her and she looked at me. She actually looked at me! Not through me. I had a million questions running through my head, but I asked her what she was looking at. It seemed like a safe question. I didn't want to send her back to hiding inside herself again. I decided not to ask where she had been, at least not yet.
She pointed to a kid riding a bike across the street. Then she started talking about when I was little and learning to ride a bike. I didn't know what that had to do with anything, but I let her keep talking. She was actually talking. Would she keep talking until she told me where she had been and what caused her to act like this?
Mom talked about my childhood for a little while and then stopped. She looked outside for a while, even after the kid went inside. I asked her if she wanted to eat something, but she shook her head. At least that was a response. I wanted to ask her about where she went, but I was so scared that she wouldn't keep talking.
I didn't know what to do. I've never been so scared in my life. What if I said the wrong thing? I just wanted her back, the way she had been before. Finally, I took her hand. She actually smiled! Then she moved a little closer to me, but she still didn't say anything. I stood there with her until she wanted to take a nap. She went back to the couch. It's pretty much her new bed now.
Should I dare ask about where she went? I don't know what to do.
Macy continued reading about Heather's fears. She wrote them out over and over, most likely because she had been trying to figure out how she felt about what was going on. She hadn't told any of her friends, because she didn't want anyone thinking her mom was weird. So the diary had b
een her only confidant.
Heather didn't mention it, but Macy couldn't help wondering if she was also afraid of her dad. He would undoubtedly lose it if she told anyone at school what was going on with her mom.
The next day's entry showed that Heather had made a decision.
After getting all my worries out in here, I decided to ask Mom my questions when I woke up. I was so anxious about it, I woke up early. Dad was still sleeping, so I had that to my advantage.
Mom was back at the window again. That had to be a good sign, right? I walked right up to her, took her hand, and said good morning. She squeezed my hand and talked about the squirrels and birds playing in the yard. I waited for her to pause and then I prepared myself to ask my questions.
I was so nervous that I was holding my breath without even realizing it. So, I had to take a deep breath before saying anything. Then I asked her where she went. I told her that I had missed her a lot.
She squeezed my hand again and then looked into my eyes. My eyes! She asked if I wanted to sit. I would have agreed to anything at that point. So we sat on the couch and she covered both of us, not herself, with the afghan. She looked around. She was obviously nervous about something—probably Dad. I told her that he was sleeping. I waited a minute and then asked her again where she had been.
She looked at me and said, "The barn."
What barn? I asked her if she meant the one at Grandma and Grandpa's. She nodded yes.
Macy turned the page. It was the last one and nothing else was written.
"That can't be all," Macy whispered. "There has to be more." She carried the diary back to the shelf and looked behind all the books. There were no more diaries. She slid it back into place where she'd found it.
Macy lifted the mattress and dug through Heather's stuffed animals, not finding anything. She looked through the clothes in the dresser. There was no diary there either.
Gone (Gone #1) Page 9