Читать книгу A Visible Heaven - Kirsten Blyton - Страница 7

Laura’s note scratched against Eve’s back pocket. Her phone rang, a less-than flattering picture of Anna flashing up at her. ‘Hey loser.’ She leaned against her apartment door, shoving it open. The hinges creaked and scratched along the wooden floor in protest.

‘So, did she come back in today?’ Anna asked with excitement.

‘Yeah, hello to you, too. Jesus.’ Eve threw herself down on her double bed. Her feet automatically kicked off her shoes next to the pile of dirty laundry.

‘Did you ask her?’

Eve groaned. ‘Yes, yes, I have it in my back pocket as we speak.’

‘So … what does it say?’

‘I’m not allowed to know. She told me “For your eyes only.” So, now that I’ve passed on the information, may I go, Sir?’

‘Fine, fine. I’ll call again tomorrow. Get some rest, kid.’

Eve crawled off the bed. She shrugged into her gym clothes and took off down the street, her thoughts already being washed away by the pounding music in her ears. The night air clawed at her skin as she wrapped her arms tightly around her for warmth.

‘You are such a wimp!’ Deb teased.

Laura shifted the phone in her hand. ‘I am not a wimp. I’m just … testing the waters. She asked if I could come back tomorrow.’

‘Yeah, because you basically worked for free today. Why wouldn’t she want you back?’

‘Well, I’m still not sure about this.’

‘Because you won’t just ask her like a normal person, we have to resort to teenage antics?’

‘Let’s just hope this works,’ Laura admitted, biting her lower lip with scepticism.

Eve combed her hair back from her sweaty scalp. She hit the punching bag repeatedly in the same miscoloured spot until her arms no longer felt like arms. Eve touched her glove to the small tear on the side of the bag she had ripped in a particular frenzied session. The rip stared back at her like an angry scar. She cut the session short. The fire in her stomach had grown, exercising had done nothing to subside it. The memories followed her wherever she went. The sound of tyres screeching, a child’s laughter transformed into screams.

She unlocked her apartment door before the night swallowed her. Eve threw off her clothes, not caring where they landed. Fumbling for the bathroom light, she accidently caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She ran her fingers over the raised silvery scar on her temple. If she stared at her reflection long enough, how long it would take before a different face appeared? A different person? She turned her back on her reflection.

The hot water calmed her skin as she scrubbed at the sweat that stuck like glue to every inch. After minutes not counted, Eve turned the water off. Dried and dressed, she lay down on her bed. The stillness of her apartment made her uneasy. She grabbed for her phone to release from the shadows that started to move. Eve began to flick through her contacts when she remembered the photo of Laura. Laura smiled at the camera, her arms positioned like a magician’s assistant. Eve noticed a look in her eye she hadn’t seen when she took the photo. It was an expression she couldn’t quite pin down. Eve pressed her lips together and switched her phone off. She staggered to the kitchen. Searching the cupboards for something to drink, her hands slipped on a half-bottle of cheap bourbon. She poured herself three fingers. After the second cup, she did away with the glass and downed the bottle.

Eve tried to shove her mother away from her in the back of the car. Her father continued to shout from behind the wheel of the car. Eve’s anger spiked as the car came to a sudden halt, her father’s foot on the brake. There was something about the way he turned back, the distant pinpricks of light in his pupils, the rumbling of tyres against the road. She tried to yell at her father to move the car, but her mouth clamped shut. Eve lurched forward from the back seat just as the truck hit them side on, a look of terror on her mother’s face. Time slowed. Her scream caught in the fabric of memory. Her father’s head crashed through the window, his loose seatbelt growing taunt around his neck. She lifted her arm forwards, but her movements were too slow. From all directions, glass struck at her. The car rammed against a pole. A piece dislodged and cut through her father. He slumped, motionless. She looked down at her left leg. It twisted at the wrong angle. She gritted her teeth and tried to straighten the bloodied mess. Her mother’s glassy eyes caught her attention. She tried to scream, to call, to say her name. Nothing came out. Blood ran from her mother’s lips as she parted them for the last time. ‘You did this.’

Eve woke, blinded by the memory of her mother’s face. She stumbled to the bathroom, barely making it to the sink before she threw up the cheap bourbon. She wiped her mouth with a shaky hand and stared back into the mirror. Her eyes unsettled by something deep down within her. She lifted up the hem of her old T-shirt and touched the scars that tore across her body. Eve made her way back to her bed and collapsed, a heap of limbs and mumblings as sleep overtook her. A warm black sleep. Without mothers, without fathers, without sound.