Page 29 of The Spiral

“You can’t go,” he mutters, reaching his hand for me again. “I don’t want you to go anywhere.” Can’t?

I nibble my thumb, watching his hand in front of me. What does he mean can’t?

“Why?”

“You just can’t.”

My eyes sweep around the room, wondering if some new mystical thing is about to evolve. Nothing happens. It’s as bright as it was before, rays of gold falling through the glass windows.

“This…” My mouth falters, unsure what I’m trying to say but entirely sure I’m mad for wanting to say anything. “I don’t know what this has been, but we’re not doing it again. It was strange,” I say, my hand waving at the space around us as if trying to search for reasons I don’t have. “I don’t need strange. I need stable and efficient. Real, tangible. I need to find a new home, Jack. Rebuild my life and find Lewis so I can end this once and for all.”

“I love you.” My mouth gapes, my hand hovering mid swing around the room.

“Don’t be stupid. You don’t know me enough to love me.” He continues his stare, no waiver in his words to recall them. “I know you said it before, but that was the heat of the moment and …”

“I’ve always loved you. Come down the stairs.”

This is utterly absurd. No one falls in love this quickly. I’m not even sure I want to love again. I haven’t got the strength for that yet, or the happiness regardless of this feeling I have buried inside aching to explode all over him. I need Lewis dead for that to come out. I need him gone and his threat removed.

A glare glances over my face at his irrationality, and I consider just running past him and calling that cab, but my feet are glued to the spot beneath me. It’s like they’re not real, like I can’t feel them all of a sudden, let alone move them.

The building creaks and groans as I stare at his face, disbelief wracking every part of me at his sincere expression. He means it, doesn’t he? Believes it. It makes me put my hand on the bannister, gripping it to make sure of the reality around me as his hand stays fast in the air, waiting for me to take it and accept his offer of love. Perhaps he’s hoping that we’ll be together forever, make babies for this big old house to endure and live happily ever after in some sort of dream.

I frown, thinking of dreams that do not happen for me and pushing them away as I remember Lewis’ attacks. I screw my face around, still feeling the hint of bruising marring my eye and shuddering at the thought of another man telling me how to live. It’s not happening, regardless of this man and the way he makes me feel. Something’s not right here. Odd. I can’t think straight, and why is it getting dark again?

Oh, enough is enough. I need to get out of here, deal with things. This is not real. I must be in some kind of nightmare I can’t get out of. In fact, maybe my car’s actually alright, and my house, and I’m really just asleep in my new home waiting to wake up. Callie will be waiting for me downstairs, probably having been out all night with some new man.

“I need to go,” I mouth quietly, my feet trundling past him without thought for his hand, trying not to look at him anymore. Perhaps if I keep my head down I can avoid another declaration of love. I don’t know who he’s saying it to, or why, but those words don’t belong to me. I don’t deserve them or own them.

My arms fold into each other as I walk along the corridor towards the front of the house. I’ll wait outside, or maybe even walk around to my car. If I could just get a phone signal I could call recovery myself and leave when they got here. Although, where I’ll go I don’t know.

I snatch my bag from the side table on the way into the hall, and then push my feet into my still muddied shoes. I’m instantly haunted with visions of fields and dirt, which in turn make me think about the man walking up behind me. I can hear his bare feet padding along, sense his proximity long before he reaches me.

“I have to go, Jack.Don’t try to stop me,” I call out, not turning to face him for fear of this rationale leaving me again.

My hand grabs the bronze door handle, swinging it out wide to walk into the sun, only to find darkness staring back at me. I halt, confused as the wind whips past my face and a low fog creeps its way across the ground in front of me.

“What the hell?” I mumble, as I gaze at it rippling the bottom of the stone steps. It’s like a sea of rolling waves, foreboding in its swirl around the gravel beneath it. And it’s daytime. It’s the middle of the day. Where’s the sun?

I flick my eyes to the sky, wrapping my arms around myself for warmth as I search for the golden globe that was there five minutes ago. There’s nothing up there but clouds and a dim light casting over the top of the woods. Maybe there’s an eclipse I didn’t know about. “Where’s the sun?” I ask, gingerly lowering my feet into the fog.

“Stay inside,” he says from behind me somewhere, his voice like silk again now that he’s away from the spiral. No, I can’t stay inside. I need to get my car and go home. I dig into my bag, hoping that maybe my phone will work this time, but I can’t find it anywhere.

“I need to use your landline,” I muse, finding myself twirling around in the mist as it licks its way up my legs. He doesn’t answer as I wander further into it towards the trees on the far side of the drive, but then I don’t suppose he will. He doesn’t want me to leave, does he? He wants me to stay in this fantasy and pretend it’s real. It’s not. Can’t be.

I touch the back of a tall redwood, staring up at the spread of branches as I circle its girth. It’s glorious as it towers above me and the mist swirls around its base, as are all the others around here. I look back at the house as I come round the far side of it, watching the way the lights dot the boundary and twinkle beneath the fog. It looks just like a ship below water sailing on by, and its beauty makes me smile as I gaze upwards and start walking towards the garages.

The road seems shorter as I wander over. Perhaps it’s just that everything’s covered in this mist, I’m not sure, but I’m there before I know it, having trailed my hands through the billowing swirl of white as I went. The old man’s there, a small shaft of light illuminating the end garage as he walks around and tinkers with things.

“How’s the car doing?” I ask, looking at it still up on ramps above the pit.

“I’ve ordered the parts. They should be here soon, lassy.”

“Oh, okay. And you can fix it then?”

“Surely can.”

“Good. That’s great.” Okay, I’ll just have to hang around a bit longer, which is a bit of a shame but there’s no point calling recovery if it’s nearly done anyway. “Thank you. What’s your name by the way? Sorry, I never got it first time.”