"Fear is only as deep
As the mind allows."

- Japanese Proverb -

The deep red substance covered every inch of my hands, from my wrists to the tips of my fingers. I brought my hands together, staring at them in astonishment, feeling the wetness of the blood sliding in between my fingers.

My stomach turned and I lurched onto my knees, my palms planted on the ground in front of me, and retched, bringing up the small amount of food I had in my stomach. Bringing my hands to my stomach and groaning, I sat back up and stared around me, questions circulating my brain.

Where am I? Why do I have blood on my hands?

Two questions that seemed impossible to answer. My eyes darted back and forth as I tried to figure out where I was, but the area wasn't familiar. Tall buildings surrounded me; buildings you would only find in a city. I knew my town was part of the suburbs that encircled Cleveland, a city I had never visited. It was the only place that I could think of.

There were no cars in the small parking lot that I was sitting in, probably because it was early morning and hardly anybody would be awake yet. I needed to get out of there before that could happen, and my hands needed to be washed somehow.

Breathing in deeply, I willed myself to stand up. My legs wobbled as I stood and my vision became blurry for a few seconds as the blood rushed to my head. Trying not to look at my hands, I slid them into the pockets of my hoodie, obscured from view.

I slowly placed one foot in front of the other until I was striding across the parking lot to where I presumed was the exit, and stepped onto a sidewalk on the edge of a road, where only a few cars idled past. I spotted a WC sign down the road and breathed out in relief. Keeping my head down, and my hands firmly in the pockets of my hoodie, I made my way over to the toilets, praying that they were as empty as the parking lot.

As I entered the toilets, there was a barrier preventing me from going any further. A sign to the left of me told me that I needed to pay 25 cents if I wanted to enter. There wasn't any point in searching the pockets of my jeans for money because I knew I didn't have any, not even 25 cents, so I climbed under the barrier and walked over to one of the sinks.

I twisted the tap and tentatively placed my hands under the cold, flowing water. I watched in disgust as the blood slowly trickled off my hands, turning the water a pinkish-red, and swirling around the sink before disappearing down the drain. I picked at the crusty pieces of blood that had already started to dry, flinching at the feeling of it under my nails.

I swallowed bile. I couldn't throw up again.

I looked up at the mirror in front of me, and my reflection stared back. My hair was disheveled, standing up in places, and there was a smear of my blood across my right cheekbone. Purple bruises had formed under my eyes, which were bloodshot. I made sure my hands were clean before I rubbed at the blood on my face until it was gone, and then stuck my hands under the heat of the hand dryer.

I couldn't do anything about the redness of my eyes, but I made sure my hair looked at least presentable before I left the bathroom. Ducking under the barrier, I walked back out into the street and glanced around. How was I going to get back home? I needed to find a more populated road, maybe find a cab or something. Not that I had any money.

I crossed the street, following the sound of car horns until I reached an intersection, where, across from me, a line of yellow cabs waited. I was about to thank God when I realized I should be thanking somebody else. Something else. I wasn't sure that I was ready for that. Yet.

I half-ran, half-walked over to one of the cabs and knocked on one of the front windows. The driver rolled the window down and peered up at me. He was an old man with a kind face, the one that was marked with wrinkles from years of smiles. He was smiling now.

"Hi," I said. My voice was shaking, so I swallowed and tried again. "Do you know where Oaksten is? It's a town near..."

"I know where it is, girl," he laughed. "I'm from Lakeland, the town bordering it. Hop in, I'll get you there."

"Thank you," I breathed, opening the back door and climbing in.

I probably should've mentioned I didn't have any money, but maybe I could tell him a fabricated sob story that involved myself somehow getting lost in the big, scary city and needing to get home to my distressed parents, looking for their missing daughter. The latter was possibly true, seeing as my parents suddenly cared about me, and I never came home last night. The old man probably wouldn't believe my shitty lies, but I had to at least try.

"So why are you catching a cab this early then, girl?"

He had a faint southern accent that could only come from Lakeland, the farming town that bordered Oaksten. I pictured him sitting in a field, chewing a piece of straw that dangled out of his parted lips.

"I...I..." I couldn't get my words out of my closed throat.

He chuckled. "My bad. I'm being my normal nosy self."

He started to hum absentmindedly and I rested my head against the back of the leather seat, closing my eyes. I tried not to think about the image of my bloody hands, but it was the only thing that I could see behind closed eyes. There was no explanation for the blood, or at least I couldn't think of an explanation.

Firstly, I blacked out from that excruciating pain in my temple. What was that? I'd had headaches before, but that was something else entirely. Pain I had never experienced before.

Then, I woke up in an unknown place, hands covered in blood, with no memory of how I ended up like that. I squeezed my eyes shut, but the feeling of the blood in between my fingers was still etched into my brain.

My life had always been full of secrets and lies. I was used to it. But this was different. I was holding a secret, a secret that I didn't even know myself. It felt like I wasn't even part of my own body anymore, like I didn't even know who I was. That feeling scared me.

No. It terrified me.

The old man's voice snapped me out of my thoughts. "What's the address?"

"8 Rowan Street," I answered, looking out of the window. The tall buildings were slowly getting smaller, until there were no buildings at all. Just large expanses of nothing. Fields that spread for miles and miles, separated now and again by rows of trees, or wooden fences. You wouldn't normally find farmland so close to the city, but that's how it was here. I wondered why my parents had never taken Seth and I to Cleveland, but then again, everyone lived in their own little bubble in Oaksten. Everything outside of our town wasn't important.

About thirty minutes later, we pulled up outside my house. I peered up at the windows on the top floor but the lights were off. Nobody was awake yet.

The old man turned to look at me, waiting for the money, and I felt the redness in my cheeks.

"I don't have any money but I can run inside and get you some," I blurted out, and then remembered I had a stupid sob story planned.

He sighed, then smiled. "You know what, don't you worry. I was heading this way later anyway. Granddaughter lives near here, she's cooking for the family tonight. You look like you've had a rough night. So get gone, girl, before I change my mind."

"Um...thank you," I said, shocked. I wasn't expecting to be let off that easily.

I got out of the car before he really could change his mind, and walked into the house, wondering if I could quietly grab some breakfast before anybody came downstairs. My stomach grumbled, as if in agreement. I flicked the kitchen light on and almost had a heart attack. My mother was sitting at the kitchen table, arms folded, waiting.

For me.

"Hey, mom," I whispered. I tried to work out her expression, but she was impassive.

"You didn't come home last night," she said, simply.

Do I tell her what happened? I wasn't sure if that would make the situation better or worse. Maybe it was something I should keep to myself, or at least tell Seth about it later.

"I stayed at a friend's," I shrugged, the idea suddenly popping into my head. "Sage, a girl in my class. I was going to phone you and let you know but my phone died, and she didn't have a charger that matched my phone."

The lies flowed from my tongue so easily that I was surprised at myself. I'd never been a good liar. I was always so easy to read. An open book, Seth called it.

She seemed to relax slightly. "Next time, you ask permission before you stay somewhere. Okay?"

"Yeah. Okay. Sorry, mom."

She stood up, opened the fridge door and pulled out some strawberries and blueberries, her face still impossibly impassive. "Have you eaten yet?"

I knew, as I walked through the school hallway, why the voices around me sounded like I was underwater. They were muffled, indistinct. It was because I was in a haze. My shock and exhaustion obscured the clarity of my surroundings, to the point where I didn't even know where I was walking too. I was just simply, walking.

A familiar flash of red in my vision told me that I had just passed Elijah, and I faintly heard him calling my name, the sensation of his fingers around my wrist so indefinite that I barely noticed. The sound of his voice became louder, yet still muffled, as he started shouting my name, but I carried on without acknowledging him, and then vaguely felt him let go of me. Giving up.

I didn't have anything to say to him. Or to anyone. What was there to say?

As I pushed open a door, I realized I had just walked into the girls bathroom, and then into one of the cubicles.

I sank down onto my knees and buried my face in my hands, succumbing to my fatigue and letting the tears flow. They soaked my fingers within seconds.

In this world, I had always felt like I didn't have anybody, nobody to confide in or rely on, except perhaps Seth.

But now, I didn't even have myself; the person I was becoming was so unfamiliar to me, so foreign, I couldn't even place my trust in myself.

Now, I had never felt more alone.

Image: Lilith Ayres - Crystal Reed
Song: Deep End - Ruelle (This song is literally so perfect for this chapter!)

© Olivia Clarke 2018
The Devil's Daughter