there, the next she wasn’t. With a crash, she tripped and hit the ground, her ankle having gotten caught in a rogue root.
I didn’t offer her help; Danika got up by herself.
“Are you okay?” I asked because it seemed polite to.
Danika brushed the dirt off her palms and laughed, the sound brighter than the sun shining in the sky. “It’s not a day unless I take a spill.” She rose to her feet, shaking it off. “What was I saying?”
“You were going to tell Konstantin I’m unbreakable,” I said with the same amount of conviction I had in the statement.
She laughed, “Oh, yes.”
“Will that stop you from trying to steal my secrets from me?” I asked.
Danika’s eyes sparkled. “Of course not. They don’t call me the Little Interrogator because I’m so quick to give up.”
We reached the manor’s gardens, house and responsibilities in sight.
“You’re welcome to them,” I told her. “I don’t want them anymore.”
10
Elena Falcone
The echoing sound of choking resonated through my brain.
Before me, my father crouched on the ground, hand up to his heart. His knuckles still bruised from his latest attack. He was gasping something.
Heart attack, I though he was trying to say, I’m having a heart attack.
Mother was yelling to get help, her cries loud and shrill.
Father couldn’t breathe; he was struggling for air. His body was doing everything it could to keep him alive, to keep him surviving.
From his lips, vines began to spill. Bright purple and pink flowers sprouted from the stems, lighting up the dim dining room. The colors were seductive and alluring, a bright poisonous warning to all those who dared to near.
Out his ears, out his eyes. Father began to stretch and warp, the flowers overtaking his flesh and bones, killing him slowly.
Mother was still screaming.
I reached out, unable to resist the pull, and grasped one—
Consciousness came to me like a slap in the face.
I sat up in my bed, breathing hard. It took me a second to grasp where I was.
Konstantin’s estate, I told myself.
My legs were twisted in the sheets, my hair knotted from rolling over my pillows. A thin layer of sweat soaked me.
I rubbed my face, breathing hard.
It was just a bad dream, I told myself, ignoring the memories that threatened my every waking moment. It’s over now.
When I turned to check the time, I groaned out loud.
Four a.m.
Not as bad as it could’ve been, but after being able to sleep in until around six the past two days, waking up this early felt like a kick in the face.
I collapsed back onto the pillow, but it was too late. My brain had come to life, moving a thousand miles an hour. Words and theories bombarded me. Check Tatiana for thallium poisoning, sort out library, avoid Konstantin and his bedroom eyes—
I felt like I was going to tear out of my skin, my bones and flesh inconveniences and obstacles to me relaxing.
Restlessness was not a new emotion to me, but usually I had a remedy.
I turned my head towards the window. No light peeked through; no sounds echoed. But my heart pulsed a little faster at the thought of feeling the fresh air on my skin, digging my toes in the dirt. Being alone, being relaxed.
What if I got caught?
You’re not doing anything wrong, I told myself. The dogs know who you are, so do the guards.
There was something inherently vulnerable at being caught trying to relax but my reasoning had won out.
I slipped out of bed, wrapping the blanket around me, and headed downstairs. The house was quiet and still, the only sounds coming from the theater room.
I peeked through the door as I passed.
Dmitri and Anton were watching cartoons; well, Anton was watching them. Perched on his father’s lap, he was very interested in the bright colorful characters on the screen. His father had his head tipped back and was snoring softly.
I kept moving, leaving Anton to his show.
The back door was locked but the key was on a hook behind the curtain. Konstantin had made a point to show it to me when he had given me a tour.
As soon as I stepped outside, I calmed.
The crisp air running along my exposed skin and flushed cheeks brought my heart rate down within seconds. Mixed with the lack of stimulants and soft lull of the breeze rustling through the trees, I almost fell asleep on the spot.
I made my way farther into the overgrown garden, leaping over exposed roots and unkempt branches. Fall signaled the