“Both of my parents were strong swimmers,” Sam said, getting up and crossing to my bedroom window. “I don’t think they loved me very much, but they were strong swimmers.”
“All parents love their kids, don’t they?” I said, acting surprised by what Sam had just told me. I knew that not all parents loved their kids, but I was still trying to do the whole ‘let’s play dumb’ routine. “I’m sure your mum and dad did love you.”
“Nah, they didn’t,” Sam said, still looking through the window. “They loved me enough to feed me and put clothes on my back — but it always felt as if they were just going through the motions. There was never any heart put into it. It was like they always expected more of me — as if they were waiting for something to happen.”
“Like what?”
“It was like I had disappointed them in some way,” Sam said and this time he did look at me. “I thought perhaps they wanted me to be captain of the school football team or get better grades, but that just wasn’t me. My thing is drawing. I draw comics — but it wasn’t enough. Not for them, anyway.”
“What’s wrong with drawing?” I asked. “I think that’s cool.”
“It’s nothing,” Sam said, changing the subject back to his parents. “They were away a lot of the time. I never understood what they did, but my dad always seemed to be flying off here, there, and everywhere for meetings and my mum would go with him. People would often visit the house — men in smart suits. I never really got a good look at their faces as I was always ushered up to my room and the door would be closed. I would try and listen to what was going on, but they would always speak in hushed voices. So I spent most of my time escaping. You know, like in your head. I’d make up characters and would bring them to life in comic books.”
“So apart from your mum and dad being a bit secretive, what was so weird about that? All parents have secrets — don’t you think?” I said, thinking of how my dad had kept the fact that he was a Vampyrus from my mum for years and the fact that she had a son called Isidor. That was a secret that he had kept from me, too.
“It was what happened when they drowned that day — that’s what was so weird,’” Sam said.
“What was weird about it?” I asked him, and in the back of my mind all I could really think about was if Isidor was already on his way to collect the camera. But Sam had been a good friend to me and I liked him, so I wanted to hear him talk about himself for a while.
“My dad stood and looked at me sitting in the sand. He was mad again. He was always mad about something. I’d been drawing again — even on the beach, I’d been drawing.
“‘Are you coming on this boat trip with me and your mother or what?’ he asked me.
‘Nah, I think I’ll stay here and finish this picture, if you don’t mind,’ I said, not looking up from my drawing pad.
‘Actually, I do mind,’ my dad said, reaching down and yanking the pad from my lap. ‘For once in your life you’re going to take your head out of those goddamn clouds and do something worthwhile.’
‘But…’ I started; he wasn’t in the mood to listen.
‘Don’t you dare argue with your father!’ Mum shouted. I remember she was dressed in a swimming costume,” Sam said.
‘We didn’t bring you all the way to Cornwall just so you could sit here doing those ridiculous drawings!
‘I told you we should’ve left him at home, Sue,’ dad groaned as he chucked my art pad into the sea. ‘I don’t know, we try and do the kid a favour and this is the thanks we get.’
“I looked up at my dad, then at my art pad as it floated away,” Sam said, and I couldn’t help but feel sad for him.
What kind of dad would do that to his son? I wondered.
Sam stood and looked out of my bedroom window, and I could tell that he wasn’t watching the school kids who wandered about below or the Greys, he was reliving the day that his dad had thrown his pictures into the sea like they were little more than rubbish.
“I followed my mum and dad up the beach. The boatsat alongside a short jetty. It was packed with tourists. There were two empty seats and my mum and dad took them. I kinda felt uncomfortable and left out again. My mum said that I was standing in her way and blocking the sun, so I was to go and stand someplace else.
“Without saying anything, I moved away from them. What was the point in inviting me along if they couldn’t even bear me standing next to them?” Sam explained, and I felt really upset for him.
“I leant over the edge of the boat and looked back at the beach. There were hundreds of people sunbathing. Everyone seemed to be having a good time, except for me.
“The boat left the jetty and we made our way out to sea. Peering over the edge of the boat, I glanced back at the beach as it slipped into the distance and I saw something odd,” Sam said, turning to look at me.
“What did you see?” I asked him.
“It wasn’t a something, but a someone who had caught my attention. Standing on the shoreline was a figure, their feet were half in and half out of the water.”
“So what was so odd about that?” I asked Sam.
“It was really hot and this person was dressed in jeans and a blue hoodie, with the hood pulled up over their head. I tried to see their face but I couldn’t, as it was covered by the hood. Then, the screaming began and I turned away,” Sam said.
“Screaming?” I asked him.
“‘Man overboard!’ someone screamed,” Sam explained. “I made my way to where the other passengers were standing. I could see that the seats which my mum and dad had taken were now empty. I couldn’t see them anywhere.
“‘They fell overboard! They just jumped!’ said this big guy,” Sam said, coming back across the room and sitting next to me on the bed.
“Some woman started shouting that a man and a woman had jumped overboard and this other guy said that they had just flipped over the side of the boat.
“I pushed through all the people, and saw my dad’s shirt floating on the waves. Then it disappeared beneath the boat. The captain raced towards us. He was telling people to get out of his way. He wanted to know who it was that had fallen over the side of the boat. I told him it had been my mum and dad,” Sam said.
“What happened then?” I asked him.
“The captain stood and stared at me,” Sam explained. “Then, he put his hands on my shoulders, and the captain asked, ‘you sure about that, kid?’
“I just nodded, Kayla. I didn’t know what to say. I was in shock or something,” Sam said, and I took one of his hands in mine. “My parents’ bodies were never found. And in the end the captain decided he should take the boat back to shore. We were met on the jetty by police officers, paramedics, and Life Boat crew.
“The captain spotted me standing alone in the crowd and pointed me out to a police officer. Everything seemed to slow down and I felt my knees begin to buckle beneath me. But before I fell down, an arm was snaking around my shoulders and holding me up,” Sam explained and his eyes had grown wide.
“Who was it, Sam?” I asked him.
“I looked sideways to find I was being supported by the hooded figure I had seen standing on the beach,” Sam breathed. “My eyelids felt heavy, and I had to fight to stop them closing. But the figure held me tight, then lent forward and whispered into my ear.”
“What did he say?” I asked, totally wrapped in Sam’s story.
“‘Everything is going to be okay. I promise.’ That’s what the figure said. ‘Who are you?’ I whispered back, unconsciousness nearly taking me. But I managed to tilt my head back just a fraction, in the hope I could see who it was beneath the hood. Then, the police officer came forward and took hold of me. He asked the stranger if they knew my name.
“‘Brooke. Sam Brooke,’ the stranger said, letting go of me.
“‘Do you know him?’ the police officer asked the stranger.
“‘Kinda,’ the stranger said, then stepped away. The police officer tried to support me with one arm as he fumbled for the radio attached to his belt. I slumped in the officer’s arms, and then fell to the ground. Rolling onto my back in the sand, I struggled to open my eyes. I needed to see who it was beneath that hoodie, Kayla.”
“What did you do?” I asked Sam.
“I called out as the stranger walked away up the beach,” Sam explained. “Turning, the figure looked back at me. Then, pulling back the hood, the stranger revealed their face to me. All I could do was stare in wonder — they were beautiful.”
“Who was it?” I gasped, almost ready to pee myself.
“It was you beneath that hood, Kayla,” Sam whispered. “You winked at me, then you pulled the hood back over your face and disappeared into the crowd. It was then that I slipped into unconsciousness and everything went black.”
“It wasn’t me,” I said, jumping up. “I’ve never seen you before and I’ve never been to a beach in Cornwall.”
“It was you, Kayla,” Sam insisted. “I couldn’t believe it the first day I saw you rummaging around in the Poor Box. It was like seeing a ghost. I didn’t want to…I couldn’t say anything, but that’s how I know you are different.”
“This is getting really weird…” I started.
“Don’t you see, Kayla? You were there the day my parents died, and then you show up here…and your parents drowned, too.”
I wanted to tell Sam that my parents hadn’t drowned, that it was lie created by Potter, but I had to keep the pretence up. “Sam, I don’t know what you’re talking about…” I tried to convince him that he was mistaken, but he wasn’t listening to me.
Then, gripping me by the shoulders, and staring me straight in the eyes, he said, “Don’t you see, Kayla, you’ve been sent to help me again.”
“Help you?” I breathed in disbelief. “What are you talking about?”
“You must realise that you are different from everyone else here,” he said excitedly. “Don’t you remember what McCain did with your hands — how he burnt you? You didn’t feel a thing.” Then, grabbing my hands and staring down at them, he said, “See, there are no scars, Kayla — your hands have healed already — that’s impossible.”
“They weren’t as bad as they looked,” I stammered. “I used cream…”
“Cream!” Sam cried. “There is no cream in the world that could get rid of burns like you had. You’re different, Kayla — even McCain has sensed it. You’re here for a reason.”
“And what’s that?” I snapped, just wanting him to leave my room so I could contact Kiera and get out of Ravenwood.
“You’ve been sent to help me,” he said, tears standing in his eyes. “You’ve been sent to get me out of here.”
I pushed him away from me, not wanting to hear any more. “I’m sorry, Sam, but I haven’t been sent here to save you or
anyone else.”
“But you have, Kayla,” Sam said. “You just don’t see what you are.”
“What am I?” I almost screamed at him.
“You’re an angel, that’s what you are,” he breathed. “You’re an angel, Kayla — a dead angel!”
“Dead angel?” I mumbled, and if I’d had a heart it would have been racing. “I’m not dead!”
Then, reaching into his trouser pocket, Sam pulled out a folded piece of newspaper. “I came across this, Kayla, not long after I saw you on the beach that day,” he said, unfolding the paper.
“What is it?” I asked, my hands starting to tremble.
“It’s about you, Kayla,” he said, handing me the torn piece of newspaper.
I took it from him, desperately trying to steady my hands as I looked down at the headline:
Murdered Girl Found on Side of Cumbrian Mountain
I read the words underneath and it described how sixteen-year-old school girl Kayla Hunt’s naked and mutilated body had been found partially covered by snow on the side of a mountain. With tears of my own beginning to well in my eyes, I screwed up the piece of newspaper when I saw the picture of myself staring back at me and read the part which described how the killer had cut off my ears.
“That’s not me,” I said, sniffing back my tears. “You’re mistaken.”
“That’s you, Kayla,” Sam said softly, almost caring. “I know it’s you.”
“It can’t be me,” I said looking at him. I tried to smile, as if brushing away what he had just said as being nothing more than nonsense. But I was in danger of being discovered. I just wanted to run — get out of Ravenwood. I wanted to talk to Kiera. I wanted to be with her — she always knew what to do — she made me feel safe. Why hadn’t I listened to her when she had warned against me coming to Ravenwood? Kiera said it would be too dangerous for me to come here and she had been right. So, looking Sam straight in the eyes, and trying to be as confident as Kiera, I said, “You’re mistaken, Sam Brooke. That can’t be me in that newspaper article because I’m not dead.”
“You are dead, Kayla,” he said, tears running down his face. “You’re my dead angel. I just have to prove it to you.”
Then, reaching into his trouser pocket he pulled out a long bladed knife. “Please forgive me,” he cried as he thrust the knife into my chest.
I looked at him, then down at the knife which protruded from me. I felt a crushing feeling inside of me, as if I were shrinking in some way. I staggered away from him. I just wanted to lie down. My whole body felt weak, and as I curled my numb-feeling fingers around the hilt of the knife, I noticed that my skin had started to turn grey and crack just like those statues I had seen.
“Kiera,” I mumbled weakly, dropping to my knees and into a black pool of my own blood. “Kiera — I’m sorry I failed.”
Then, everything went black.