Heart Thief - Ker Dukey Page 0,4

toward it.

Shivers explode over my skin as I battle through the darkness. Hands grab at me, trying to drag me into the abyss. I trek on, following her voice. I run and run, my eyes squeezed shut until I feel water surround my feet. My eyes spring open. The shoreline. The stretched ocean ripples in the gentle breeze before me, only…it’s not water. Blood red brushes against the sand, spanning as far as I can see.

A sharp gasp pushes past my lips as I jump back. My heart pounds, manic inside my chest.

Da-dum. Da-dum. Da-dum.

I bolt upright from my bed, panting for breath, my brow beaded with sweat. It was just a dream. Just a dream. A sudden, horrifying sound of an animal wailing jolts my heart. It sounds like thunder booming in my ears, My breathing becomes frantic. I search the darkness for my sister. Her space beside me is cold and empty. My brain stalls, needing a second to catch up with reality.

My eyes track the path to the window. It’s slightly ajar, like all the nights before. I worry my lip with my teeth.

She’s gone.

She’s not coming back.

I can feel it in the marrow of my existence.

Blue and red flashes dance over the ceiling of my room, making patterns appear down the wall. What is happening?

Creeping to the window, I look out. A boat is in the harbor. The lights are blinking, gaining an audience. Police never come to our island. An ache coils in my stomach.

Voices, raised and alarmed, echo through the house, causing nausea to burn the back of my throat. “Clara?” I call out on a whisper.

Attentively, I walk across the room, entering the hallway to listen. The voices become more transparent. The wailing wasn’t an animal at all—it’s my mother.

My feet shuffle across the floor until I’m standing in the living room.

Mother’s at my father’s feet, her hands clinging to the fabric of his pajama bottoms. He’s speaking with two policemen. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen them in real life. On our island, we have our own enforcers. I’ve only seen police officers in drawings and storybooks.

They’re dressed in matching uniforms, their hands latched before them holding their hats, their badges glaring their authority. No matter how much my father wants to shut out the outside world, their laws have spilled onto our island .

“Mama?” I call out, worry eating away at me. “What’s happening? Why are they here?”

“Mona,” my mother hiccups, clawing her way up my father’s legs until she’s standing. Rushing forward, she grasps me in a tight hold, pinning me to her body.

“Oh, Mona. She’s gone, she’s gone,”

I realize she means Clara.

Da-dum. Da-dum. Da-dum.

“It’s okay, Mama. She’ll come home,” I assure her. She has to. She told me she would show me the world.

Sniffling, she pulls away, holding me by my arms. “No, Mona. She’s never coming home. She’s in the arms of the angels now.”

My heart begins to pound in my ears, fire setting my eyes ablaze. “No, she’s coming home,” I state, my voice cracking. She’s coming to collect me, show me the world. She promised.

“She’s coming home,” I state again, firmer.

“Katherine,” my father barks. My mother releases me and sidles up next to him. I strain to listen when the policeman says, “Murder investigation. Her body will need formal identification.”

Murder…her body…

My legs give way beneath me.

I see now.

I understand.

She’s not coming home.

Murder?

“Mama?” I cry out.

Someone stole her light.

A killer.

A thief.

Five

Mona

5 years later…

“Mona.” Clara’s voice calls, beckoning me. Even in my dream state, I recognize it’s too late. She’s gone. Sirens scream in warning, the red and blue lights haunting.

“Mona.” The voice distorts, changing, deepening. “Mona.” Hot air bursts over my ear, and I jar awake, sitting upright like a spring in a jack-in-the-box.

“Shhh,” Eli hushes me, an amused grin on his lips. “You didn’t meet me,” he whispers, and it takes me a couple seconds to shake the sleep fog from my brain. The room is cast in a slither of moonlight, a heavy breeze billowing the fabric of the drapes from the open window. “What are you doing here?” I whisper-yell, rushing to my feet, pushing him toward the open window.

“I was worried when you didn’t meet me.” He slips his lean body back through the window he snuck in from. I look down at my clothes. I never changed into my sleepwear. I must have fallen asleep while reading. “Come on,” he urges, reaching a hand back inside to help guide me out.

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