This will be deleted soon - The Wrong Hope *Complete and Free*

21. Changing Minds

Sally-Anne

Year: 1983 1st of Aug almost 3am Monday, Summer.

We were on the dirt drive that led up to the Brice Farm House. With each sway and rumble and bounce of the car as we neared the building my panic grew. I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want to face what I had done. I wanted to be a coward and be put out of my misery. The sobbing had become intense, each useless breath becoming more out of control than the last.

“Guy, I’m going to be sick.” I moaned wretchedly.

“You’re not going to be sick.” He replied coolly.

“No I am. I definitely am.” I complained.

“Sally-Anne, you’re not going to be sick because you can’t be sick. Just try to calm down.” He was trying to sound like he wasn’t a ‘d**k’ as he’d put it earlier but there was definitely an edge there.

“I shouldn’t be here, I shouldn’t have come. I’m sorry Guy, I’m so sorry. I can’t do this, I can’t go in there.” I sobbed. “Please don’t make me, please, please, please......” I trailed off into hard sobs, my whole body heaving with gasping breaths. The car stopped and Guy said something but I couldn’t hear it over the cacophony of unbridled panic sounding off in my head.

A spark of short lived relief flashed over me when Guy got out of the car, that was until he opened my door and grabbed me, dragging me unceremoniously out and practically throwing me on the ground.

“Nooo!” I wailed inconsolably to the empty night, my hands clawed at the dirt as I stayed on all fours begging, pleading. “Kill me now, end it, you don’t know what I did.” I wept “I can’t face it, I just can’t, please, it’s too much, I’m sorry, I’m...” Pain seared through my left hand, bright hot right through the centre pulling me from my self-indulgent wretchedness for a moment.

I looked to see Guy crouched holding his hunting knife, the same one he had cut me with before, by the hilt; the blade buried in the back of my hand all the way up to the guard.

“Finally! Got your attention now, huh?” His eyes were piercing, I could see rage swirling in the blue-grey of his irises, anger laced his words and his lips were drawn back in disgust as he spoke.

“You are going to stop this right now. You are going to get up and go in the house with me because,” He looked me dead in the eyes still pinning my hand to the ground with his knife “I know what you did Sally-Anne and if you don’t do this then they will all have died for nothing. For nothing Sally-Anne. Don’t kid yourself into thinking all your suffering is a worthy atonement for what you have done. If you don’t do this, if you don’t give me the vault, then all the people out there that I’m not going to be able to help, their blood will be on your hands. Giving me the vault is the closest to redemption you will ever be.” As each word left his mouth they got colder, harder, sharper. It was like he had taken the knife that was skewering my hand and slashed every inch of my body. I whimpered under the weight of his condemnation. He was right and I was ready to concede but he wasn’t done.

Guy hooked his hand around the base of my skull wrenching me closer. With his lips to my ear he whispered, hissing each word with quiet malice “And when I say ‘I know what you did’ I mean I know what you did. I’ve seen the police report, Sally-Anne. Peter? Was that his name? Beyond cruel, big sisters are meant to take care of their little brothers.”

I was shaking, trembling under the pale moonlight with fear and pain and anguish. Guy knew. My poor baby brother; the vault would have been his legacy. Ma was so happy when she had a baby boy, proud that she had finally provided a son and Aunt Liza could stop looking down her nose at her. I had destroyed all of it.

“Get up!” Guy demanded, basically pulling me to my feet. I didn’t exactly try to stand but didn’t resist either. A hollowness was opening up inside of me, a chasm of emptiness that left me staring blankly ahead at my house. Most of the windows were broken, jagged pieces of glass still clinging to the frames, the front door was gone, plants grew wildly in the borders that my Ma had once patiently tended; they grew up the railings and poked through the boards of the porch. It was a ruin, there was no love here, only death and sorrow punctuated by the haunting silence in these small hours. I couldn’t even hear any birds. They too must feel the pain that emanated here and had stayed away. For the first time since I had become a Vampire I realised that it should be dark, the fields that were overgrown and untended, the roof of the house with its missing tiles and sapling clinging to the chimney should all be swallowed by the night but I could see it all perfectly.

Guy grabbed my right hand and snapped a gleaming cuff around my wrist, tightening it so it bit into my flesh, and fastening the other around his left wrist. Only then did he pull the knife out of my left hand with a swift yank. I felt the pain but despite feeling the intricate detail as the knife slid out of my flesh pulling dirt through the wound I didn’t make a sound. Guy didn’t say anything as he dragged me to the back passenger door and pulled out an almost empty duffle bag and a canteen of water. Callously he wiped the blade on my shirt before rinsing it off with a little water and putting it back into the ankle holster. Then he took my left hand roughly and pressed his thumb into my wound, I felt a pop and tear as the centre that had healed came ripped open. Again I was silent, the emptiness inside swallowing the pain. He splashed water generously through the wound, took a swig from the canteen and tossed it into the back of the car.

In his anger at me Guy had left the car doors wide open and the engine running so he had to circle the vehicle sorting it out while I followed numbly. Once everything was settled with the car Guy fished a flashlight from the duffle bag giving it a tap with the flat of his hand when it didn’t come on straight away. Now the path ahead of him was illuminated, Guy gave my cuff a small tug and shot me a warning look but he didn’t say anything, instead he began walking to the porch with unhurried steps.