“R-R-Run,” I wheeze out.
She shakes her head, hands clamping down on top of mine. The pressure causes more searing agony to melt me from the inside out. Something is burrowing into me. A terrifying, animalistic realisation. I can’t fight. I can’t run.
I’m going to die.
My mouth flops open but fails me when I try to warn Ember. She’s shadowed by a looming presence. Face slack and stare lifeless. Not even triumphant. My brother dominates over her without a single speck of emotion as he taps the bubbles from the liquid in a syringe.
Where…? How did he…
Her shriek fails to penetrate my cotton wool brain as the needle buries in her neck. Ember spasms, mouth forming an ‘O’ as the dosage is delivered. Then Gunnar wrenches the needle free, grabbing her red braid to pull her from me.
“No,” I whisper weakly.
She’s tossed across the room to land in a heap. I’m left with the image of my brother’s identical face braced over mine, lips curled back to flash menacing teeth.
“You never should’ve asked to meet me.”
Then his booted foot lifts to bear down on my screaming abdomen, and the entire room whites out.
CHAPTER 27
EMBER
I WILL NOT BOW – BREAKING BENJAMIN
“Don’t tug, Mum.”
“Hush, Ember. I have to get the knots out.”
I bite my cheek through another painful stroke of the brush. As rushed and forceful as the first. She tuts at my little whimper, pulling on the ends of my long, flaming-red hair.
“Sit still! I can’t do it if you keep wriggling.”
“You’re hurting me!”
“No I’m not.”
“Excuse me, Ms Lawson? Can I help?”
Relief comes in the form of his soft voice. The lonely boy with sad eyes and no home of his own to go back to. When he does, I get excited. I like playing in the garden with him.
“You always seem to have better luck than me.” Mum huffs in annoyance. “Here.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
My eyes are clamped shut to hide the tears. I don’t want Warner to see me crying again. He’s older than me and far cooler than any of my school friends. He’ll think that I’m a baby.
“Hey, little Em. Can I try?”
“Be gentle,” I whisper in embarrassment.
“Always am. Keep still for me.”
Soothing fingertips comb through my hair, nails barely scraping against my scalp. It doesn’t hurt. Without the plastic brush jerking on my knots, he can easily separate the strands with his fingers alone.
“You need to wake up, Em.”
“Hmm?” I startle.
