“I’m sorry, Miss Thorne, but he’s still not well enough for visitors. We’re only letting his sister in to see him for the moment,” the nurse said, lifting her eyes from the scattering of charts and papers in front of her. “The police want to talk to him as soon as he’s stable. You’ll be able to see him as soon as we move him down to the main ward. It’ll be in the next day or so, I’d expect.”

  Lela nodded, and together we stepped through the heavy double doors and out into the balmy afternoon sunshine. I linked my arm through hers, leaning into her side. She was then, as she always would be, my support. Absolute, firm, and unwavering.

  At first, the doctors had expected to discharge me early that morning. However, during the night my heart rate had become erratic, so they kept me in until they were happy that I was stable. And all that time, while Ingrid had been playing the grieving sister, Lela had been with me. Sitting at my side.

  ****

  The moment I stepped back into Lela’s house, a soft wave of warm air wrapped around me. The scents of coffee and perfume mingled together, hanging lightly in the air; it was the smell of home. A large, black shape bounded towards me, Bella’s tail wagging behind her. As I bent down to meet her, a big pair of paws landed on my shoulder. Her coarse tongue dragged across my cheek. Pulling her into a tight embrace, I smothered myself in her thick fur.

  “I’m sorry, girl!” I whispered, throwing my arms around her. “You don’t deserve to get caught up in all my mess!”

  The soft, gentle weight of Lela’s hand landed on my back.

  “Why don’t you sit yourself down and I’ll see if I can fix something to eat,” she said, her voice dropping to that calm, melodic hum I knew so well. “You must be famished. If the food they served you in that hospital was anything like the dried-out fish, overboiled potatoes and bitter coffee I had in their canteen, it’s a wonder you’ve got any strength at all.”

  “Thank you, Lela. That would be amazing,” I said with a long, shuddering sigh. My stomach growling at the thought of food.

  Bella refused to leave my side. She was a constant, soft pressure brushing against my calves as I made my way across the living room. I let myself sink down onto the soft leather cushions of the sofa, stretching my legs out in front of me. The big German Shepherd settled down on the floor beside me, her enormous dark eyes fixed on me, while her tail patted a gentle thud, thud, thud against the carpet.

  Outside, the street had grown dark. The sky had dissolved into a deep, heavy shade of purple; the flickering glow of the streetlights dotted the sides of the road. The evening shadows stretched into the house, snaking across the floor. Despite the glowing orange lampshade that hung from the ceiling, the dark tendrils reached out towards me. Like wispy hands, they brushed across my skin in a cool, phantom caress. Their red eyes glinted ominously from the deepest depths of the shadows with an all too knowing light.

  There had been a time when I would have feared those creatures, when they would have sent shivers racing down my spine. For years I had tried to push them away, to banish them and lock them away in the darkest corners of my psyche. But despite my efforts, they refused to leave me; they were still there, still watching over me as they always had.

  The corners of my mouth twitched, at first small and uncertain movements before finally settling into a smile. Inside my breast, something cold and hard began to solidify as the invigorating shudder of realisation crashed over me.

  Why had I feared them? They had never hurt me. It hadn’t been their wispy fingers that had left scars criss-crossing my body. It wasn’t their eyes that would stare at me with predatory hunger.

  No, the truth, I realised then, was quite the opposite. They had screamed out in warning when he came. They had crowded around me in the freezing darkness of that basement, giving me warmth as I lay there shivering. Their cold, sharp claws not slashing at me, but defending me.

  They were no threat. They were my protectors, my guardians in the shadows.

  Knowing my thoughts, as they always did, their rasping voices rose up into a hissing laugh, “Yes, Heidi! Now you see us! Now you understand us!”

  Suddenly, Lela’s voice, like a beautiful, sweet song, cut through my thoughts and sent the creatures scuttling back into the shadows. Just out of sight, but still there, still watching over me.

  “Well, that’s dinner all sorted then, babe,” she called out to me from the kitchen. “Ingrid’s going to pick up a Chinese on her way over from the hospital.”

  The corner of my lip twitched. Ingrid! Bella gave a low grumble, the tap of her tail pausing for a moment. The name was like a cold blade that sliced through the warmth of the room and stabbed at my heart.

  “A Chinese sounds great, Lela. Just what I need after the last few days.” My words were like forced honey, hissed through gritted teeth.

  The unseen eyes followed my best friend as she walked in from the kitchen and made her way around the room to her Hi-Fi.

  “I think we’re both in the mood for something a little softer tonight. How about a bit of Bon Jovi?” She said, her hand already plucking the denim blue New Jersey album sleeve from the shelf beside the Hi-Fi. Sliding the glinting black vinyl record from its sleeve. Every movement she made was elegance and grace. Gently she placed the record on the turntable and slowly lowered the stylus.

  The steady drumbeat began to thump out around the room as Lela stepped delicately towards me. Tucking my feet underneath myself, I made room, allowing her to sit beside me.

  My eyes drifted closed, and a deep breath filled my lungs for a moment before releasing in a soft exhale. I could feel the warmth of her beside me, hear her voice quietly singing along with the music, her foot softly tapping out the rhythm on the dark green carpet.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  Letting myself slowly lean into her, my head came to rest on her shoulder; the light blue denim of her jacket felt soft against my cheek. My lungs drew in another deep breath, drawing in that intoxicating scent of her shampoo. The lyrics rang out in my ears.

  Well, I can still remember

  When I was just a kid

  When friends were friends forever

  And what you said was what you did

  Minutes passed like this. We didn’t speak a word; we didn’t need to. Memories drifted before my eyes, images of myself and Lela. Memories of the two of us sitting on my living room floor, making friendship bracelets from the plastic beads she had given me as a birthday present. Visions of the pair of us at fourteen, trying to sneak into Kjelleren and Lela trying to convince the doorman that our homemade, hand-drawn IDs were genuine. The smell of oil and exhaust twitched my nose as I remembered the first time I had climbed up behind her on that battered old Honda.

  “Hey Lela?” I muttered softly.

  “What’s up, babe?” came the reply.

  “Can you take me for a ride on the bike?”

  Her body shifted beside me. I opened my eyes to see her facing me. Her eyes tight at the edges, her lower lip trembling slightly.

  Her chest rose with a deep breath before she spoke, “The old Honda?” Her voice was low and heavy, “Oh, I’d love to… but her engine finally gave out on me last year.”

  My stomach sank, my shoulders slumped. That was until I saw the glint of mischief touching her dark eyes.

  Her voice quivered behind suppressed laughter. “I haven’t introduced you to Genevieve yet, have I?”

  A sudden click from the direction of the front door tore my attention away from Lela, killing our conversation. My heart lurched, a cold, jagged beat in my chest as it swung open.

  A figure, silhouetted against the surrounding gloom, stepped slowly into the house. Her shoulders slumped, her drab grey sweater and equally drab brown woollen skirt creased. Her hair, usually tied back in a severe ponytail, fell loose and tangled over her red, blotchy face. One hand gripped a white, grease-stained plastic bag while the other fiddled nervously with the hem of her sweater.

  In the corners of the room, the shadows writhed. They crowded the edges of the gloom, hissing a low whisper. Their beady red eyes fixed on the threat which had just walked into Lela’s home, our home.

  “He’s stable,” she said, her voice squealing in my ears. “The surgeon said the internal bleeding has stopped. If he has a good night tonight, he should be out of intensive care tomorrow.”

  “Oh, babe, that’s such good news!” Lela rose smoothly, forcing me to sit upright.

  With her usual effortless grace, she glided over to Ingrid. The light of the room followed her, shining off her silky, swaying hair. Drawing a ragged breath, I watched as they fell into a close embrace. Their wide eyes met, locking onto each other, lingering there, seemingly forgetting about the world around them.

  Forgetting about me.

  Their arms wrapped around each other, their hands grasping each other’s backs with a firmness that spoke of more than just friendship

  The warmth that only moments before had pressed against me had now vanished, replaced with a cold, dark void. The soft song of her voice and the gentle tapping of her foot were gone. The music, the beat, the drums, the guitar, they crashed off the walls around me like a deafening crescendo. A persistent hammer blow that pounded at my eardrums and thumped a heavy rhythmic weight against the base of my skull.

  Eventually, Lela and Ingrid released each other.

  “Hi Heidi. I’m sorry, how are you doing?” Ingrid’s voice dripped with feigned sympathy, laced with a poison that only I could hear. The smile that stretched her pale lips into a thin line never touched her eyes. I could see through the mask that she wore. I could see the treachery that lay behind it.

  I replied with a smile, just as cold, just as empty. “I’m alright, thank you, Ingrid. I’m so pleased that Asmund is doing well.”

  “Come on, babe, you can give me a hand plating up,” Lela said, her fingers intertwining with Ingrid’s. “You just relax there, Heidi. We’ll bring it out to you,” she said before leading the other woman towards the kitchen.

  Babe! My ears stung at the very sound of the word. Such a simple word, a little term of affection and endearment. It was a word that Lela had once saved just for me. But now she threw it about carelessly between me and Ingrid.

  The girl was a venomous worm, burrowing herself deep into my best friend’s heart.

  My toes curled tightly inside my socks. Despite the music, my ears twitched at the cold, sharp clatter of plates and the muffled whispers drifting out through the open doorway.

  “You know I’m always here for you if you need me, Ingrid,” came Lela’s voice, a barely audible promise that drove an icy blade deep into my heart.

  Eyes fixed on the clock, I watched the slow, jerking movement of the second hand as it made its way from number to number.

  Tick, tick, tick.

  How long did it really take to plate up a Chinese takeaway?

  Eventually, they returned. Saying nothing, they simply slipped into the room silently, like two ghosts.

  Ingrid’s frigid blue gaze fixed on me as she approached. Her eyes were cold and accusing. Did she blame me for what had happened to Asmund? Did she really think it was my fault? Was she dripping poison into my best friend’s ear, trying to turn her against me?

  “I don’t know about you two lovely ladies, but I’m starving.” Lela said.

  The plate she handed me felt cold, hard and heavy; the rough wooden chopsticks were like two jagged splinters in my grip.

  Lela settled herself down beside me, the warmth of her body returning for a fleeting second as she placed her plate on her lap.

  “Any room for me?” Ingrid’s voice screeched.

  I watched, frozen, as she slipped in between us, squeezing herself up against Lela. The pair sharing one half of the double-seated sofa.

  My plate was piled high, a chaotic jumble of noodles, white rice, sticky ribs and battered chicken, all covered in a vivid, unnaturally red sauce.

  Lela daintily dipped her chopsticks into her food. Neatly lifting out strands of the chow mein, skilfully wrapping them around the slender lengths of bamboo and placing them into her mouth.

  Ingrid stabbed at a chicken ball with her fork.

  Taking a bite of my own food, the salt was the first thing to hit me. My tongue recoiled at the sharp, concentrated intensity of it, my throat instantly seizing up as the brine sucked away all the moisture. Then came the artificial, cloying over sweetness of the sweet and sour sauce, quickly followed by the heavy grease of the battered chicken.

  I choked, the food sticking in my throat and making me retch. I forced myself to swallow, taking a deep gulp of water in an attempt to cleanse my palate, but it did no good. The sickly residue clung to the inside of my mouth.

  “Are you ok, Heidi?” Ingrid said, her voice laced with false concern.

  I nodded, refusing to meet her condescending face. Satisfied, she returned her attention to Lela. They spoke in low, hushed tones. They spoke of IV tubes, blood infusions and sedation. A wall of medical jargon that I couldn’t break through.

  Then their conversation lightened. Gossip about people I didn’t know, chatter about television shows and films that I had never seen. They laughed over shared memories and dates that I wasn’t part of.

  I sat there, a mere observer of their world. A world that I had been shut out of. A world that had been stolen from me. A world that I had never been included in.

  I sat there while they chatted between themselves, their hands locked together.

  “Are you staying over tonight, babe?” Lela said, her eyes rising to meet Ingrid’s. “I’m not having you stay in that flat on your own.”

  Ingrid nodded, a tear tracing a glistening trail down her blotchy cheek. “I can’t go back there. Not while he’s like that. Every time I close my eyes, I see that knife.”

  Lela’s thumb stroked a soft, gentle circle on the back of Ingrid’s hand, the same small circle she had traced on mine in the hospital.

  “I don’t think I can manage being alone tonight.” Ingrid squeaked, her voice thin and manipulative.

  “You won’t be. I’ll be right beside you.”

  My grip failed. The plate slipped from my lap, striking the floor with a deafening crash.