Sorry for the lack of updates recently. There's been a hit put out on me and I've had to go on the run to Mexico lol ;) Obviously not really, I've had a lot of school work and family illnesses to deal with recently, so writing has been put on the back burner. I wrote this before the craziness started, so I'll post it but am not sure when my next chapter will be up. All I can do is apologize, but I need to be with my family at the moment and can't really get in the mind-frame to write. Thanks to everyone who reviewed: meus carus, bela13, tffny012, and Vampire0175, your opinions mean so much and I hate that I can't write as much as I'd like to. I hope you like this and I will do my best to get something up here soon. Thanks and enjoy... hopefully.

13

I didn’t come out of my room for the rest of the night, telling my dad I was ill, which I wasn’t completely sure was a lie. With the French doors open at my back, I sat on the grass of the back garden and watched the skies get dark. The moment night had settled in I heard the distinct sound of wings flapping, and a second later the familiar shape of a crow appeared, swooping down and nestling itself in the branches of the tree, it’s leaves not yet touched by autumn.

For a few moments I stared right at it, wondering how easy life would be if we switched places. I would have given anything for wings right about then, the ability to fly away without hesitation too appealing not to consider. I shook my head and stood, knowing it would take me a while to fall asleep so starting early made sense.

The girl staring back at me in the bathroom mirror shocked me. She didn’t look like me at all. There was a difference, subtle but noticeable. I was changing and I couldn’t stop it. The dark scarlet of my necklace stood out against my skin. It made me remember my mother and her things, stored overhead in the loft.

Compelled by feverish thought, I started to consider if Celeste had kept me at arm’s length because she knew Gunner Bay was… wrong somehow. Luke’s voice came to me then. Not everything in this place is what it seems. I left the bathroom and strode down the hallway, stopping when I was underneath the entrance to the attic and staring up for a few minutes. Were the answers in with her things? We had kept the most important items downstairs either in the living room or in her old room, which became the guest room, but could we have missed something? Could I havemissed something?

The small bulb positioned at the centre and fixed to one of the eaves flickered for a moment, making me fear it wouldn’t work. After struggling for a few seconds the light flared to life, filling the small, hot space with an off-yellow glow. There were all kinds of shapes packed tightly into the roof, some covered with sheets to protect them, others exposed cardboard boxes, labelled with black marker. They were the ones my dad and I had packed. I went through them quietly, cautious he would hear me over the television downstairs. When my search turned up nothing I hadn’t already seen, I decided to look under the dustsheets.

All I uncovered were old pieces of furniture, like dining chairs missing a spindle or two, or a haggard armchair in need of reupholstering, but then I came across something just as battered and beaten, yet I couldn’t take my eyes off it. It was a wooden chest painted a rich blue, the colour chipped and faded, matching the brass clasp and thick padlock keeping it shut. It wasn’t overly large, but it was heavy. I ran my hand over it a few times after dragging it towards the loft opening, knowing for certain I couldn’t leave without it.

I asked my dad to get it for me. He looked at me peculiarly as he hauled it down to me from the attic.

“I thought you were ill,” he said again.

“I was, but I’m feeling better.”

“And you want this old thing, why?”

“To go in my room,” I lied.

“But your room’s black and cream, won’t blue look a bit… stupid?”

He picked the most awkward moment to get nitpicky with colour schemes. I rolled my eyes and tried to joke:

“Dad, trust me, I have better taste than you.”

I picked the chest up and started down the stairs to my room, calling back:

“Night dad.”

There was no key anywhere. Not underneath, not on one of the sides. I sat at the centre of my room, defeated by the stupid piece of furniture at the last hurdle. Why had I been so compelled to bring it down? I had a feeling there was something significant about it, but I wouldn’t know until I found the key. I pushed it into the corner of my room and decided to search the attic for the key the next day. Two trips in one night would look suspicious.

I decided to watch some TV to take my mind off things. It didn’t work. I strayed across the ten-o'clock news, the headline scrolling across the bottom of the screen making my blood freeze in my veins:

‘Second sixth form student declared missing in Gunner Bay area’