A/N: This is my entry for a contest on a website and...well...there's a lot more to come from what I've entered in the contest. Hopefully, what I have entered will be enough to be enjoyable though.
TO SARIEL: Sorry I didn't get a chance to get as far as I would have liked. But, for all I know, that may be a good thing.
IMPORTANT: The names of the people at the beginning of each of the chapters is who the POV of that chapter is told from. It switches a lot, so that's why I am telling you.
Chapter One
Helena
The soft murmuring of the rain heightened to a dull roar, soon accompanied by the orchestration of lights and thunder. But it wasn't the epic composition of nature keeping my eyes open.
I rolled over and checked the time.
Eleven fifty-nine.
I wrapped my arms around myself, staring into the storm through the glass ceiling. My head was throbbing with the aftermath of a day-long headache, and I couldn't count the times that day I had mistaken my heartbeat for the ticking of a clock.
I shuddered, releasing a breath I'd been holding. The lightning flashed, almost trying to tempt me to hide under the comforter. I strengthened my grip on the edge of my bed, forcing myself to remain stationary. I could feel him—he was going to be here, after all the years.
As soon as I turned my head toward the clock, it flickered and changed.
Twelve o'clock midnight.
I inhaled, filling my lungs to the brim, bracing myself. Every nerve in my body was electric with anticipation. The tips of my fingers tingled. This would surely be the year—the day—he'd come back.
My heart was pounding through my entire body, my eyes vibrating back and forth looking for any new signs of movement. Everything was still, the unmoving atmosphere suddenly slicing through me with realization.
The suffocation of fear passed quickly and I let go of the breath I'd been preparing myself with. It had been a pointless preparation.
I felt an ache in my stomach—an emptiness that seemed to be feasting on my insides. Surely I had learned by now not to hold on to false hope.
Eleven years and still, every October fifteenth I'd wake up around midnight waiting for the sixteenth to arrive. Anticipating his return at last, the day he would come home to me. Somewhere inside of me I knew he was never coming home, but I chose to push that part out of my mind and ignore it with all my being.
No, not this time. My brother was coming home if it was the last thing I ever did, and it very well could be.
I was losing time; twenty-four hours wasn't enough. I leapt out of bed, throwing on a pair of jeans and a sweater, I made sure to grab a jacket as I picked up my car keys.
I could practically feel the adrenaline rushing through my veins. My bedroom door was thankfully silent as I opened it, gazing into the dark living room. I shut the door behind me and tiptoed across the room, being cautious with each step—no noise was to be made. It would ruin any chance I had.
Soon, I was out the front door, across the drive and in my car, nearly soaked from head to toe already. I took a deep breath and started the engine, turning on the headlights. I inhaled again before speeding down the deserted country road.