Between the Lives - By Jessica Shirvington Page 0,31

that stuff in your bag, so I went with you on your errands. I looked for signs.’ He glanced down at his hands. ‘I thought … You didn’t fit the mould. You talked about your future, seemed so full of life.’

After that, he left the room. I panicked that he wouldn’t come back. That he would leave me tied up as some kind of punishment. But a few minutes later he returned. With a syringe.

I tried to back away, but the restraints stopped me and my broken wrist ached at the pressure.

‘Ethan, I …’

Shit.

He was going to put me under. I’d dealt with the issue of the restraints, but not this.

‘Is there anything I can do to convince you not to drug me until after midnight?’

‘No.’ He didn’t even look at me.

‘Ethan, I’m sorry, okay. I was angry. You try being tied to a bed and drugged. It’s not a happy time.’

He paused. ‘What is it with you and midnight?’

I wanted to cry. ‘Please. Please don’t do this. It will … It hurts … It …’

‘You’re shaking,’ he said, now watching me intently.

‘It frightens me. Please.’ I looked at him, trying to hold his gaze while he watched me. ‘I’ll do anything.’

He reached forward and moved a strand of my dark hair out of my eyes, his own eyes shadowed with sadness. ‘That’s just the problem, Sabine. You could do anything.’ His hand dropped away quickly.

The syringe stung.

Tears streamed even as I tried to blink them away. The drug kicked in fast.

‘I’m so alone,’ I stammered, feeling empty and cold as everything went black around the edges.

‘You’re not alone, Sabine,’ he whispered. ‘You’re lost.’

The last thing I felt before I lost consciousness was the release of the restraints from my wrists. I’d be free of them when I Shifted at midnight.

Ethan had made sure I’d know.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Wellesley, Sunday

I stretched out like a cat, silk sheets gliding beneath my hands. The morning birds were out in full force, probably nesting in the tree outside my room.

As lucidity wormed its way into me, the memory of the last twenty-four hours descended like a heavy blanket. My parents. Being hauled away. The clinic. Ethan.

Ethan. Drugging me, putting me under.

Ethan releasing the restraints, shaking his head at me, dressing my wounds, and that small gesture: brushing the hair from my eyes.

I’d been locked up. Medicated.

I’d been put on SW!

I bolted upright in bed. Everything had fallen to shit.

My hands bunched up my silk sheets, gripping hard. The morning birds kept chirping. I’d slept right through the Shift and I was grateful for the small reprieve. Mom called out from downstairs. She was leaving, but had left waffles in the kitchen. Sunday ritual.

I glanced around my same-as-always Wellesley bedroom.

Everything had gone wrong.

‘But not here,’ I whispered to myself. ‘Everything’s still okay – here.’

After staring into thin air for a while, routine kicked in. I got out of bed, showered and dressed.

I was downstairs, lost in thought and nibbling on cold waffles, when the sound of the doorbell almost made me fall off my kitchen stool.

Both hands on the front door, I peered around the small crack to find Dex wearing an eager smile on the other side.

‘You okay? You look like you expect someone to jump out of the bushes and attack?’ he joked.

He didn’t realise how right he was. With everything that had happened in my other life, it was exactly what part of me had expected. I tried to relax my stance and let the door drift open.

His eyes widened. ‘Woah! I mean, woah. Your hair! You look …’ He fumbled, something Dex, sporting god loved by all, did not do very often. ‘Hot.’

The corners of my mouth curled into a smile as I patted my newly blonde hair. ‘Thanks.’

‘No, I don’t think I’m being clear here. I mean, you look …’ And then his eyes travelled down my body and up again, and I knew exactly what he was thinking.

‘You’re being plenty clear, Dex,’ I said.

His gaze flicked back to mine sheepishly. ‘I really can’t wait until graduation. You and me, we’re so right together.’ He pulled me into his arms hungrily. ‘Everyone envies what we have.’

Something about what he said touched a nerve and I felt uncomfortable in his arms. And unsure why. In many ways it was true – Dex and I were a golden couple. Our friends all spoke about us as if we were perfect for each other. Even Dex’s controlling parents had given me the big tick