Golden: A Paranormal Romance

by Ellis Marie

  “Wasn’t it guys from East Bay that attacked Cam two summers ago?”

  I feel as though my world stops spinning as Kristie’s words ring through my ear, replaying over and over again like an endless cycle.

  “No.” I laugh breathlessly, denial coursing through my veins. “Trent wouldn’t . . . He couldn’t . . .” I trail off as I picture blood on the school floor, I see Trent’s face morphed into a mask of rage, and Carter’s broken expression below him, his body shaking like a monster.

  Carter’s face slowly changes into a slightly wider one with a freckled expression, and his hair fades into a hue of red until it’s now my best friend’s face and my heart shatters in my chest.

  Kristie’s voice brings me out of my spiral, and I gasp in air, the pain in my chest coming from me not breathing and not my heart physically breaking.

  “It’s okay,” she comforts, grabbing my hands between hers. “It might not be. There are hundreds of people in East Bay, and it was a while ago. I’m sure Cam would have told you if it was that, right?”

  I slowly nod, grabbing on to the hope she’s providing with shaking fingers as I try to reason with myself and the horrific images plaguing my mind.

  “Y-yeah,” I stutter out weakly. “Cam would have told someone if he knew who had attacked him or he recognised them.” Kristie nods along with my bobbing head, rubbing the goose bumps off my skin. “Trent wouldn’t do that.”

  Trent wouldn’t do that. Would he?

  Kristie’s eyes glance above me and at the clock, which I know hangs above the door, and winces.

  “Class starts in a couple minutes. We should probably go.”

  I try to stand up quickly, but my legs shake. I quickly grab on to the table for support, static fogging up my eyesight as I try to breathe deeply.

  “Elle, are you okay?” Kristie asks. My hand clutches my chest where it hits the hard rock hanging there. I flinch back from it, the weight of it feeling like it’s drowning me. I quickly rip it off and throw it into my bag at my feet, the panic rising through me.

  “I think I’m going to go home,” I tell Kristie. She nods, wrapping an arm around me.

  “Do you want me to drive you? I’ll just tell Mrs. Howard that I had to take you home because you were ill,” she offers. I accept gratefully, my body calming down a little at the thought of being able to be by myself and figure things out for a while.

  “Come on, let’s go before everyone’s in class.”

  We pull up to my house in silence and the relief that leaves my body is immediate when I see the empty driveway in front of it.

  He isn’t home.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay? I don’t like the thought of you being alone,” Kristie mumbles, glancing at the big house.

  I do.

  “Honestly, Kristie, it’s fine. I think I’m just going to have a nap and take some medicine, and I’m sure I’ll feel better. I’ll be fine.”

  She glances at me in concern. I reach across, squeezing her hand fiercely. “I promise.”

  She sighs and stares at me for a moment before releasing my hand and unlocking the doors. “You better text me later, alright?” she orders. I nod with a smile, hopping out the car in the process.

  “I love you,” I tell her, making her smile.

  “I love you too, Elle. And we’ll figure this out, okay?”

  I nod and say goodbye, shutting the door softly before turning and heading up the driveway and to the front door and then turning back and waving one more time before she drives away.

  As soon as I step through the door and shut it behind me, the strength that’s been keeping me up vanishes. I sink to the bottom step of the stairs, curling my legs into me.

  There is no way this could be real. I couldn’t possibly be so wrong about someone, could I? Have I not suffered enough with Matt already? Is Trent just like him? Would he hurt me?

  I couldn’t believe that.

  My bag that’s been discarded on the floor catches my eye, the shining amethyst-like colour bold against the pale flooring. I don’t know where the necklace had come from, and I certainly don’t know why Cam hates it so much, but I also don’t know why on earth I kept it. I could have sold it or thrown it out or even just kept it in a drawer, but for some reason, I put it on and kept it on. Constantly.

  Like everything else in my life, I suppose I just couldn’t exactly explain it.

  I leave the bag on the ground and walk over it, heading towards the kitchen.

  The sight before me is almost as horrific as I feel. I want to cry at the disgusting colour of some of the plates that have been left across the room, the neglect evident. I suppose he treats the house the same way he treats me, and I wasn’t there to pick up after him. I only want to stay a little while and collect some things; I can probably stay at Kristie’s again.

  Sighing, I grab a bin bag and pick up some of the containers and other rubbish littered around. Call it habit or call it sentimentality, but it almost calms my thoughts and lets me think clearly; I suppose routine helps in that way.

  It’s hard to filter out the images that I’ve created in my mind—ones of Cam beaten up mixed with the memory of what his partially healed face looked like a couple weeks after it when he had finally shown us what happened. He never really spoke about it or reported it. He never even so much as told us who the guys are—just that they are from East Bay and he only knows that because they were wearing jumpers with the letters across it.

  Could he be lying? Would he lie about that and cover it up? Why would he?

  I’m so focused on my own thoughts and cleaning that I don’t hear the car pull up in the driveway, only the door closing and then the front one opening.

  Is there even a chance that I’m imagining this?

  Coldness washes over me as I freeze, listening to the footsteps head straight for me. He walks in with a confused look on his face, his eyes searching for something, and when they find me, they don’t move.

  “Annabelle.”

  Fear washes over me like smoke. I can feel my lungs constricting as I struggle to remain calm, my grip on the bin bag almost making my fingers rip through the material.

  He looks worse than usual, his stubble now almost a beard and the dark circles under his eyes are bags glazed with either a hangover or tiredness. Gone is any sign of the man that he used to be.

  “You’re home,” he states simply, putting his car keys on the counter. I don’t dare move a muscle as he looks me up and down. “I wondered how long it would take for you to realise that you’re useless and dependent on me.”

  He chuckles and turns away from me, heading towards the living room. “I’m glad you’re doing your chores. I’ll invite Matt ‘round for dinner.”

  He’s almost out the room before my mind catches up with what he’s said, and the word flies out before I can stop it.

  “No.”

  He freezes and his back goes rigid, straightening up to a new height that I haven’t seen him do in years. At a painstakingly slow pace, he turns around and his acid-like stare locks me in place, a sickening smirk glistening.

  “What did you say?” he hisses and my pulse jumps.

  “I said no,” I reply after a second, dropping the bag on the floor. My fingernails curl into my palm, digging into the skin to keep me grounded. “I’ve ended things with Matt and I’m not staying here anymore.”

  If my father could look shocked at anything, then I think this would be the time, but his facial expression is so dead that, for a moment, I hope that maybe he’s turned into a statue, but the clenching of his fist breaks that dream.

  “And why exactly do you think I’m going to allow that?” he snarls, slowly stepping towards me. I almost back down and cave, my body begging me to just get on the floor and start apologising, but I raise my chin instead, swallowing the fear that’s threatening to break me.

  “Because I’m a pain, I’m an annoyance, and you’ll be a lot happier with me gone. Soon, I’ll be
eighteen and then I’ll leave anyway. Why not just start your easier life a little sooner?”

  The pride that I feel for myself pulses through my body. It’s like a weight is lifted off my shoulders as he seems to consider the offer and the truth behind it. I hadn’t planned to have this conversation with him, but here I am, and I can actually taste freedom on my tongue.

  I feel so strong that I don’t even move when he’s only a step away from me. He raises his hand slowly, touching the side of my face. Tears well up, but they’re not from fear; instead, they’re because of the melancholy look in his eyes as he scans my face and softly strokes it, the sweetest look I’ve seen him have in years.

  “You’re so like your mother,” he whispers. The corners of my lips curve up into a soft smile.

  This is it. Have I finally gotten through to him?

  “So like her . . .” he mumbles, barely audible. His fingers move down from my cheek and trail across my jaw, the easy expression sliding off his face in the blink of an eye. “And like her, you’re trying to leave me.”

  No.

  “And I’d rather you die than let you embarrass me like that again.”

  His fingers clutch themselves around my throat and a shout escapes my mouth as I grab on to it, the force of his arm throwing my back into the cabinets behind me and pots crash around us as the glass smashes. I try to scream but the breath is knocked out of me with the impact.

  “You think you can just decide to leave?” He laughs manically, bending down in front of me as he grabs my hair and yanks me up and on to my knees in front of him. “You think you can f*ck over your boyfriend and me with no consequences? Think again, Annabelle.”

  He releases the grip on my hair. I collapse to the side, hitting my head off the counter. Blackness covers my eyes for a moment as I try to blink away the spots in order to see.

  I watch as his body moves towards me, and without thinking, I lift my foot up and kick him wherever I can, luckily hitting right between his legs. When he falls forward, I manage to then get his head and it ricochets off the wall.

  I cough and splutter as I pull myself along the floor and try to get to my feet. It takes a second, but I manage, reaching for the back door. The handle is almost in my grasp and my fingers graze it, but something slaps across my back. I fall to my knees in agony, the sting burning against my skin. Before I can react, something wraps around my neck. I fly back, my hands clawing at the leather digging into my windpipe.

  “I should have killed your mother instead of letting her leave,” he hisses, tightening his belt. I gasp for breath, my body flailing and hitting the dining room chairs beside us, my ribs knocking painfully into the edge of the table. “No one is better than me. No one can leave me.”

  My body starts to constrict as my last gasps of breath leave my body and I fall forward on to the table. This isn’t fair. I’m meant to get my happy ending now. I’m meant to overcome this.

  That’s when a beautiful swirl of colours catches my attention. I look at the large flower vase; that was my grandmother’s favourite. The flowers in it have been dead for a while, but the vase is still pristine, and it reminds me of her whenever I look at it. Even after all these years. It’s almost as if I can hear the soft hum of her singing to herself as she arranged them every Sunday.

  My fingers stretch. I use all my strength to pull myself forward, the tips of my skin brushing against the ceramic.

  “You really should have f*cking behaved yourself.”

  Just as I think it’s impossible, I curl my fingers around the rim. I manage to get it solidly in my hands. With one mighty swing, I bring it straight into the side of my father’s head. He screams in agony and stumbles back, the material slipping from my neck.

  Air rushes into my lungs and I choke, the lightness in my head almost making me fall, but I stay up and walk across the shattered remains of the vase, heading to the back door. I manage to open it and step outside, stumbling down the few steps onto the patio and almost scream when I go over my ankle, sharp pains echoing all over my body.

  “Annabelle!” My father’s scream of rage shoots me forward. I find the strength to keep running into the back garden and towards the large open field, the forest clear in my sight as I quickly turn around and check that he’s not going to catch me.

  He’s still not out of the house. I can feel tears streaming down my face as I hobble across the field. I don’t know why I’ve come this way, but something pulls me there and I follow it, ignoring the sensible idea of going to another house. The chances are that everyone is at school or work, and I don’t have time to spare. Plus Mrs. Grenway could hardly to anything against the monster behind me.

  “Annabelle!”

  The snarl follows me. I whip around to see him pulling himself through the doorway with blood dripping down the side of his face. I cry out at the sight, hopelessness overcoming me as I look at how far away the forest is. It’s hopeless.

  Just as I start to imagine giving up, I see a blur come through the bushes at the edge of the green haven. A large animal darts out of it, heading straight towards me at an almost unnatural speed, the auburn colour of it bold in the sunlight.

  It’s a wolf.

  My mind flicks back to the night I found the necklace. I glance back at my father who’s making his way towards me at a much faster speed than my running speed.

  I like my odds with the wild animal and not the beast.

  I look back at the creature that’s only a few metres away. My broken voice screams out as I fall to the ground, the pain overcoming me as I hit grass and reach out towards it.

  “Help me!”

  As I sink to the floor, it jumps over my body and lands right in front of me, the growls coming from it instilling fear all the way into my bones. It seems to have done the same to my father who is frozen in place, his feet not yet reaching the grass. Instead, he stays on our property as if he’s reached a barrier that he can’t pass.

  “No,” he hisses, looking at the wolf and then at me with fury and fear an unwavering mask. “It can’t be.”

  He only stays there for a second before he turns on his heels and runs back into the house, the door behind him slamming shut. It’s not long before I hear a car start up. My body sags in relief.

  He’s gone.

  The animal in front of me has not moved and remains growling at the house. It hackles up as it does, the stance so tall that it blocks out the light from the sun. This isn’t the same wolf that I saw last time, but I still reach my fingers out towards it and softly touch the edge of its coat.

  “He’s gone,” I manage to get out, my body beginning to shut down. “Thank you.”

  The last thing I see before I lose consciousness is the animal turning and looking at me with familiar, soft brown eyes.

  My vision blurs as I try to open my eyes, the soft pounding below rocking my body side to side as wind flies through my hair. My house draws closer and closer to me, and a figure above carries my body in their arms. When I look up, the sky is moving behind them.

  “Hang on, Elle,” they say, echoing through my ears. I try to talk, to reach out and touch them, to ask who they are, but my arm barely moves and my head lulls back again, my vision turning back to nothing.

  “Just hang on.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  At first, all I can hear are the mumbles around me; it seems that the rest of me is yet to catch up. A sweet smell like burning candles and cakes comes to me next—my senses slowly coming alive.

  I can hardly feel my body, like I’m floating above it and just watching myself think.

  Am I dreaming?

  The voices continue to talk some distance away, but I can’t make them out; it’s like there’s earplugs in my ears, muffling out the syllables.

  Panic engulfs me.

  What if I’m paralysed, or trapped, or in a coma?

  Something begins to tickle my hand. I move my finger and try to get it away.

  What if I’m dead?


  The annoying and constant feeling isn’t leaving my hand, and I want to scream. Am I going to have to enjoy the sensation forever without being able to do anything about it?

  I focus all my panic and energy into my hand and try to get it to move.

  Come on.

  Suddenly, I feel it come up and bat away whatever is intent on not leaving me alone, and a breath of relief leaves my body.

  Peace.

  But the feeling doesn’t last long. Before I know it, the sensation is back but this time, more forcefully and across my arm. What exactly have I done in my past life to endure this kind of torture? What is this? My own living hell?

  A groan leaves my chest, and all this seems to do is entice it further, the area of focus now the whole side of my body. I begin to squirm in an attempt to avoid it.

  “Stop,” I manage to chuck out like my throat is laced with gravel. “Stop it.”

  Before I know it, I’m sitting up and crossing my hands in front of myself, trying to protect whatever I can, but the creature keeps pushing forward eagerly. A soft whine starts to come from the vibrating body.

  The sound makes me stop trying to push it away and, instead, I open my arms and slowly my eyes, blinking away the black patches interfering with my sight and ignoring the lightness in my head.

  “Obi?” I ask in confusion. The large dog lets out a cry of happiness and throws himself at me, knocking me back down into my previous position.

  I giggle as he nuzzles me and then I reciprocate the action, engulfing myself with the love and warmth that he radiates. My voice is like scratching a chalkboard and it hurts to even breathe but I can’t help it.

  “I’m alright, boy,” I manage to barely whisper out.

  “You’re not going to be if that big lump doesn’t get down from my clean cushions! Down, Obi!”

  Immediately, the dog removes himself from my body and runs over to his bed with his tail between his legs. I chuckle and look up at the old woman who is watching me with a stern and unimpressed scowl.

  I should have known that she would be the one looking after me. The poor lady never got a day’s rest with me around. Her hair is pulled back into a knot but the parts around her face looked frazzled and frayed, as though she’s been yanking them quite a lot and for quite a long time. I open my mouth to try and start to explain, or to apologise or . . . honestly, I don’t know what.