The Night Children

Chapter 27

Edited. 

My knees scuffed as I slipped through the window, however my thoughts didn't trail to the blood welling from the peeled skin. They were on the boy with the tricoloured eyes. His fingers, his blood, his voice. His yellow eyes.

I couldn't explain the colour, the inhumane gleam slitted in his pupils. He had stared at me through the eyes of a beast.

My fingers scraped ice as I shut the window behind me. Instantly the breeze stilled so I was left to stare at my empty room, as untouched as I had left it. I swallowed numbly, glancing at the thin sheeted hospital bed, the digital clock on the wall, the dying roses by the bed side table.

This was my home now.

I stared numbly at the red digits above the door frame, watching the numbers flicker to three. Soon, I grew aware of my phones screen lighting up in the darkness. Almost in a daze, I gingerly reached to retrieve it from my pillow.

Notifications of missed calls from my mother and the administrating office flickered, burning against my eyes. My fingers trembled, my knees shook, my head felt heavy, and yet when I dialled back my mother, I felt nothing but numbness.

Her voice was like an injection of venom when she answered. "Where have you been?"

I could feel my throat begin to constrict. My mouth dried with the promise of lies. "Out," I replied solemnly.

Her response was sharp. "Where?"

"Away from here." I leant against my bed, pressing the phone against my ear, hoping my trembling fingers could withstand the weight of the device.

"You need to be more specific," Mum hissed. "The hospital nearly called for a search party."

My heart skipped a beat. I could imagine Pincel's face at the news of a missing girl, the same girl who had previously escaped from the hospital. The same girl he had pointed a gun at.

"Why didn't they?"
There was a short pause. "I told them you were with me."

My fingers twisted into fists in the bedsheets. "Why did you lie?"

"You've ruined the Argent name as it is. I thought it would be better if you didn't involve yourself with the police for the third time."

I felt my eyes narrow. She had lied. I could hear it in her voice, in the sudden change of pitch, the brief pause. "I can look after myself," I finally added, conscious of the flatness of my voice.

"Clearly you can't if you're relying off that boy to satisfy your rebellious needs."

A flood of anger rinsed through me, enough to stiffen the trembling of my fingers. "Isaac?" His name wavered in my throat.

"The hospital informed me he had visited. I assume that is where you had been." Her words were sharp, directed. Opinionated.

I swallowed. "Isaac has nothing to do with this."

"But doesn't he?" Mum hissed. "Ever since he arrived in town you've been disappearing to do god knows what."

I inhaled a shaky breath, momentarily halting the frustration from edging into my voice. "You have never made the effort to be a part of my life. Even now, you ask me questions so you can gain information against me, not because you actually care."

"Renee I—"

"What is the purpose of this phone call Mum?" I interrupted, conscious of the clock ticking over and the exhaustion weighting my eyelids. "If you called to interrogate me about Isaac, you should stop now. I wasn't with him, nor do I plan on being around him. He's a stranger to me." I didn't feel any guilt at the heaviness of my lie.