The beginning of the week started as normally as ever. I woke up and went to work, like always. Listened to Rachel, Allie and Kayla complain about some of the more difficult guests, as always. And I spent my lunch breaks with Noah, like I had been.
He seemed to have gotten slightly more touchy-feely since Saturday night. Not terribly so, but he'd brush his hand along my leg or my waist when we were sitting together or if he was walking by. I supposed it was kind of nice, but it kind of struck me as a little unlike him. Especially after I'd freaked out on him over the weekend.
"What is up with you lately?" I asked with a slight giggle on Tuesday night. He'd come up behind me close to closing time and wrapped his arms around me from behind. I'd stiffened and jumped but instantly relaxed when I realized it was him.
"What do you mean?" he asked, kissing my cheek. "Shouldn't I be able to hug the girl I'm dating?"
"Are we dating?" I asked. I knew we'd never spoken about anything official, which was probably my fault mainly. It was something I wanted, when I thought about it, but I was also all too comfortable just taking it slow. I obviously still had issues with being too affectionate. And Noah was always so patient and never pushed the issue, which was incredibly sweet and much appreciated, but it also contributed to making it so easy to stay the way we were.
"I mean, I'd think so at this point," Noah said with a raised eyebrow and a chuckle as he leaned in and pressed a kiss to the bottom of my neck.
"Okay, seriously," I said, looking at him in amusement as I pulled away. "What is with you? We are still at work. And besides, you're never usually this pushy."
"You call that pushy?" Noah asked, a look of confusion crossing his face. "Huh."
"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked.
"Nothing," he responded with a shrug, taking off his apron and tossing it into the basket on the floor.
"Are you sure you're okay?" I asked. "You seemed a little off yesterday."
All of us had noticed it, actually. He seemed a little more himself today, but the day before, he had seemed a bit distracted. Usually he did his job almost effortlessly. He was quick and efficient. But yesterday he seemed out of it and a little slower. And he'd seemed quieter, too.
He cleared his throat. "Yeah...just feeling a little under the weather," he said.
"You think you're coming down with something?" I frowned up at him. "Maybe you should take a day or two off."
"No, I'll be fine." His usual charming smile was back on his face. "Thanks for being so concerned about me, though. It's appreciated."
"Yeah, of course," I said slowly.
"Hey, so Saturday night, I was thinking we could go out to dinner or something."
I gave him a sad smile. "That sounds great, but I already made plans."
"With Rachel?"
"No, with Fred."
"Fred?" Noah asked, his eyebrows shooting up.
"Yeah, why do you seem so surprised? You know I spend time with him."
"I guess I didn't realize how much. Don't you think it's a little odd?"
"Does it bother you?" I asked quietly.
Noah just shrugged. "I'm just saying...It's not encouraging that you spend so much time with another guy."
"I may be a lot of things, but I'm not a disloyal person, Noah," I said.
"I don't want you to go," Noah demanded.
"What?" I asked, my eyebrows shooting up. I might not have known Noah all that long, but something like this was one of the last things I'd expect him to say or do. It never seemed like being demanding was in his nature. I mean, he wouldn't even kill insects for Merlin's sake.
Noah blinked and suddenly began to backtrack. "I mean, I don't think you should go."
"I've already said yes," I told him.
"Sophie, please," Noah said, making a pouting face at me.
I stared up at him with a slight frown. It stung that he suddenly didn't seem to trust me or my relationship with Fred. Had he felt this way all along and was just saying something now? Or was this all recent? Noah had never once struck me as the person to even be so blunt about things that bothered him, so this whole thing wasn't sitting right with me.
When he reached out to take my hand, I slid it out of his grasp. "Noah..." I began. "Fred and I-we're friends. And if-if you don't..." I swallowed as I tried to get out the words to describe what I was feeling. I didn't want to upset Noah, but I also didn't want to have to give up my relationship with Fred. I didn't think it was fair or right of Noah to ask.
"If I don't what?" Noah asked.
"If you don't trust me," I said, "then that's almost a problem, isn't it?"
Noah was quiet for a moment. "I guess it is," he finally said. Then, he shook his head and sighed. "See you tomorrow, Sophie."
And then he was gone.
"Something's wrong with Noah."
I hissed my opinion to Rachel, Allie and Kayla the next morning as we were getting ready to start working. Martha and Kyle were busy doing prep work and Noah wasn't arriving until a few hours later, which was why I wanted to talk to the girls now, before things got busy and Noah showed up.
"What do you mean something's wrong with him?" Rachel asked. "Wrong how?"
"He was acting really weird the other day, remember?" I began.
"People have off days, Sophie," Kayla said. "Even Noah."
"Let me finish," I said. "Yesterday seemed normal up until the end of the day, when he and I were closing. He seemed really...affectionate. More so than usual. He's always been almost overly cautious because he knows how I am. But yesterday it almost felt like he was-"
"Like he couldn't keep his hands off of you?" Kayla asked with a raised eyebrow. "It's normal, Soph. He's a human being with emotions and hormones and all that good stuff. And he likes you. It probably doesn't help that you barely let him touch you."
"Kayla," Allie chided. "Leave Sophie alone."
Kayla shrugged. "All I'm saying is that maybe now it's just kind of...spilling over. As I said, he likes you. He wants to be affectionate with you."
"Kayla's has a point," Rachel added. "It's great that he's respectful, and that's how it should be, but sometimes it's just hard to help. As long as he took you seriously when you told him to stop. And as long as he didn't force you to go further than you wanted to."
I nodded. "I suppose he did," I said slowly, "but he just seemed...odd about it. Something didn't seem right."
"Well, you're also more paranoid than any of us here," Kayla pointed out. "So it could've been an-"
"An overreaction?" I asked, looking up at Kayla with a frown.
She shrugged. "I'm not saying it definitely is. I'm saying it could be. It's an option."
I sighed and looked away for a second as I thought about that. "Well, in any case, after all of that, he asked me if I wanted to go to dinner on Saturday and when I told him I had plans with Fred, he got upset. He demanded that I not go."
"Again, Soph," Rachel said gently, "he likes you. And you do spend a lot of time with Fred."
"Noah's never said anything before," I argued. "And call me crazy, but he could have just talked to me about it instead of demanding that I not go. It didn't seem like him to order me around like that. Besides, he should trust me!"
"He does," Rachel insisted. "But sometimes it's hard to keep doubts away. Especially about someone as impulsive as Fred can be. I know you feel he's been good to you and I know he's a good guy overall, but he is impulsive. If he were to have feelings for you, he would say or do something."
I frowned slightly in thought. That kind of coincided with what Lee had said over the weekend. Rachel had said it more tactfully, but it was still the same.
I turned to look at her. "Okay, well he hasn't said it done anything. Fred doesn't have feelings for me. If anything, he's still hung up on Angelina."
"I believe that," Rachel agreed. She smiled slightly. "He really loved her. Or maybe still loves her. I don't know. But that also doesn't mean he can't get attached to you if he feels you've been some kind of...light in the dark for him. He also might not be saying anything right now because he's confused himself or doesn't want to frighten you away for good. Or both." She shrugged. "But if he does like you, he'll snap and say something eventually. He won't be able to help himself."
"I thought you felt he was using me," I said.
"I did think that," Rachel said. "But remember how you mentioned some of the stuff this Elizabeth girl from the diary feels relates to things Fred is feeling as well? You sharing it with him has probably been helping him. You've been helping him. And I've seen the two of you together. Fred's been out with us a few times now. I think you've sort of become a real comfort to him. Although, that still doesn't mean I think he's right for you romantically."
"Okay, so even if it were true that I've been a comfort to him," I said. "It doesn't mean there's a romantic relationship happening here. Those are two different things and you've been implying both."
"I know," Rachel answered. "Because one thing can usually lead to another. But I'm just trying to explain why Noah would start to feel a little more confused and threatened. You barely want to be touched, you won't let him snog you senseless, and you're becoming increasingly close with Fred. Of course Noah's going to be on edge. I know you have your reasons and so does Noah. But..." She trailed off and shrugged.
"But you shouldn't be so paranoid," Kayla finished bluntly. "Things with Noah will work out. I'll bet you anything he'll be in a better mood today."
"I still don't think he should've demanded I not see Fred. Not the way he did," I said. "He could've been more...expressive about how he felt."
"Come on, when are guys ever expressive about how they feel?" Kayla snorted.
"Just talk to him when he comes in," Rachel advised gently. "Things will be fine. Don't worry."
Things were not fine. Once Noah came in for work, he actually gave me the cold shoulder all afternoon. At Rachel's encouragement, I tried to talk to him a few times during our shift, but he refused to talk to me. Once I told Rachel, she had frowned and then went to talk to him herself.
"Okay, something is wrong with Noah," she announced, her voice a hiss as she came back into the kitchen.
"Not you too," Kayla sighed.
"I just tried to talk to him about Sophie and he said he doesn't want her to see Fred anymore and I asked why he wouldn't even talk to her about it and why he was being so cold. I told him it wasn't like him to be that way. I told him he was better than that. And he said that being nice wasn't going to help him." She turned to me. "He said that if he wanted you to listen to him, he needed to be a little more stern and less of a pushover. His word."
"Well," Kayla said slowly, "he has always been extremely nice."
"But he's not exactly a pushover," Rachel said. "He stands up for himself. He's not afraid to say what he's feeling. He's just really thoughtful and considerate about it. I don't know. I see what Sophie was saying now. Something's up with him. I hope everything's okay at home with his mother. Or I wonder if something's going on with his dad."
"His dad's pretty much out of the picture, isn't he?" Allie asked.
"Yeah, but he did run off and get himself a nice new family and it was really hard on Noah," Kayla said. "I wonder if his dad tried to contact him or something. Or maybe he's having another kid."
"Or maybe it's just me that's the problem," I said quietly. "Do you think I really upset him that much that he's being too hard on himself?"
"No, of course not," Rachel said reassuringly. "Noah gets why you are the way you are. He's always had the patience of a saint. With everything. I don't even think you could change that."
"Then what's up with him?" I asked.
Before Rachel could say anything, Martha came into the kitchen. "What are you girls whispering about?" she asked with a sigh.
"Sounds like something serious," Kyle said from his spot at the counter. "They've been whispering and frowning and frowning and whispering. I think it's boy drama."
"Honestly," Martha sighed. "Can you please save this discussion for your breaks? Or after work? We have customers..."
"Sorry Martha," Rachel said. "It's just that we think something's wrong with Noah. He's been really off lately. We were just wondering if everything's okay. Have you heard anything?"
"No," Martha said with a slight frown as she thought about her answer. "But if Noah has something personal going on, it's his business whether or not he wants to talk about it. He doesn't need you gossiping about his problems while you're supposed to be working." She looked at us expectantly, her eyebrows raised and her hands on her hips.
"Fair enough," Rachel sighed. She and the girls headed back out into the dining room. I sighed and grabbed a bin of dirty dishes before following them.
While I was out there, I watched Noah out of the corner of my eye. I wished he'd talk to me. All I was going on as reasoning for his behavior was the speculation I'd gotten from the girls earlier. I wanted to hear Noah's thoughts and opinions and feelings straight from him. But he wouldn't even look at me.
This went on for the rest of the day until only he, Rachel and I were left.
Noah was cleaning up the last table while Rachel and I peered out at him from the kitchen, the dishes already charmed to wash and dry themselves in the large sink beside us.
"I don't know," Rachel sighed as we gazed out at Noah. "He warmed up to me again eventually today, laughing and joking as usual. He just didn't want to talk about you. Or to you. It's kind of irritating me. A lot." She frowned. "And you know what else? I saw him eat a turkey sandwich for lunch."
"He's mostly vegetarian," I finally said with a snort. "You told me that. And so did he. Won't eat any meat besides—"
"Sausage links of all things," Rachel said. "He always said Martha just cooked them too perfectly to give up completely."
"Maybe it just got too hard for him to keep up?" I asked.
Rachel shook her head. "He's been doing it for years."
Before I could answer, Noah had turned back for the kitchen. Rachel and I instantly hurried back from the doorway, hustling to make it look like we hadn't been watching him. When Noah came in, we both only glanced in his direction, but we didn't say anything. He emptied his dirty dishes into the sink and charmed them to start washing and drying before turning to us.
"Long day, huh?" He asked pleasantly, turning to me and Rachel with a smile.
"Mm," we both agreed.
Noah stared at us suspiciously for a moment, but he was suddenly distracted by a fly buzzing around his head. He made a face of disgust before he pulled out his wand, aimed it at the fly, and zapped it to the ground, lifeless.
Rachel and I glanced at each other, open mouthed.
"Have you hit your head?" Rachel suddenly asked as I waved my own wand to vanish the fly completely from the ground.
"What are you talking about?" Noah asked, looking at Rachel in confusion.
"That's the only explanation I can think of for how you're acting," she went on. "That you've experienced some kind of head trauma and now your personality is just off."
"It's not," Noah said defensively, shaking his head.
"Not entirely," Rachel said. "But something is up."
"Is it something going on at home?" I asked gently. "You know you can talk to us about anything, don't you?"
Noah looked at us, his gaze steely, before his shoulders slumped and he sighed. "It's my mum," he said. "She and I got into a huge argument the other night and she left for a bit. And I haven't seen her since."
"What?" Rachel gasped as my mouth fell open. "That doesn't sound like her! You're all each other has!"
"Exactly!" Noah said, his voice strained. He took in a deep breath. "I'm just...angry, okay? And I've been taking it out on other people. I'm sorry."
"Noah, you have to tell someone! Have you reported it?" I asked.
He nodded his head. "This morning," he whispered.
"Oh, Noah," Rachel sighed sadly. "You should've said something. We're your friends."
"Being at home alone without her...it's so eerie," Noah said, crossing his arms and looking at his shoes, digging the toe of his sneaker into the floor.
"Do you want some company tonight?" Rachel asked.
"That would be great, actually," Noah answered, glancing at me. These past few minutes were actually probably the most he'd looked at me in a day.
Rachel apparently seemed to take the hint. "Sophie will stay with you," she volunteered. When I raised an eyebrow at her, she shot me a look. "Go," she hissed. "You know better than anyone how this feels. You'll be so helpful."
I nodded slightly. As nervous as I was about spending the night with Noah, I knew she was right. I'd never spent an entire night alone with a boy before, but this was different. There was no way Noah could possibly have romance on his mind tonight with all that was going on.
After Rachel left and the kitchen was locked up, I packed a few things into a bag and left a vague note for Tom and Martha. I told them I was staying with Noah for the night due to an emergency and would explain in the morning. And then he and I went back to his place, which was just as empty and eerie as he had said.
"I'm really sorry this happened, Noah," I said quietly, setting my bag down by the front door and looking up at him. He hasn't turned the lights on yet and we were standing there in almost complete darkness. The only light came from the moon shining through the window, only illuminating us slightly. "I know how this feels more than anyone."
"Your mother left you," Noah said bitterly. "Mine wouldn't do that."
I took a step back from him, feeling the sting of his words. He's angry, I reminded myself. He's hurting. He didn't mean it. But that still didn't stop me from feeling that something wasn't right. Noah didn't take me as the type to lash out when he was dealing with his own issues. But then again, how could I say for sure? I hadn't known him all that long. I was still learningabout him. I pushed the odd feeling away for the time being, telling myself that Noah was simply angry and hurt and that I was paranoid.
"I never thought my mother would do that either," I told him. "Look, you reported her disappearance. That's good. That's the first step in fixing this. People are looking for her. This isn't over yet. It'll be okay."
Noah sighed and reached behind me to flick on the lights. They came on, illuminating the entryway. It made things less eerie, but no less silent.
"You don't know that," he said quietly.
I just looked at him for a moment, unsure of what to say or do to make this better. There was really nothing I could do or say. Besides bring his mother back, which was completely out of my area of expertise. There were professionals for this kind of thing and they were currently out doing their jobs.
"Why don't you go get cleaned up?" I suggested. "I'll make tea."
"That sounds great," Noah sighed. He started to turn away, but then turned back and quickly gave my forehead a gentle kiss. It was the first thing he'd done in the past few days that had felt like our usual relationship.
I gave him a small, sad smile before heading for the kitchen and getting the tea started. As the water in the kettle began heating up, I leaned back against the counter with a sigh.
My brain was practically spinning. Things had almost been moving too fast in the past few days. I didn't know what to think or how to process it. None of it actually seemed real yet. Noah's strange behavior, his mother going missing. And why was she missing? It did seem strange that she would just leave him after a fight. She loved Noah. It seemed so...odd. It made me think something bad had to have happened to her.
But on the other hand, my mother had done the same exact thing. And I still didn't know why all these years later. I didn't even know where she was. Any investigating the twins had done since their first attempt kept turning up at dead ends. If she was still alive, which Fred really seemed to think she was, then she did not want to be found. But if she were dead, then she also hadn't been found. I appreciated the twins' effort, but I was beginning to feel as if it was useless to continue to look.
And that made me wonder if that was going to be another similarity between my mother and Noah's. What if she also didn't want to be found? Part of me found that so impossible, but I still kept thinking of my own experience.
But I knew that Noah's mother wasn't the same person as my mother. Not every parent was like my own parent. So that forced me to consider the worst option at all. The option that something terrible had happened to Noah's mother. But in that case, what was it? Who had done it? And why? Was it random? Or was it someone she knew?
Feeling I was getting ahead of myself, I closed my eyes and rubbed the back of my neck, taking a deep breath to calm my racing heart and slow my thoughts. A moment later, the kettle was whistling and I started to pour the contents into two mugs. I was putting honey into my own mug of tea when Noah came up beside me and leaned backwards against the counter, just watching me.
"I'm sorry I've been such a horrible person lately," he said. "Do you think you could forgive me?"
I looked up to see him with a comical, exaggerated pout on his face and I smiled slightly. "You don't have to apologize, Noah. You had a good reason."
"It's not an excuse, though," he replied. He swallowed and stepped towards me. "I'm so sorry. About everything."
I turned away from the tea and looked up at him, hardly even daring to breathe as I met his eyes. A second later, he leaned down and kissed me. It wasn't slow or hesitant or even as gentle as he usually was with me. His hands were on my hips and a second later he had me backed against the wall. I actually found myself not minding what was happening at first. The thought crossed my mind for a moment that it seemed odd that Noah would want to do this in the midst of all that was happening, but then considered that he might just have been trying to process it. Or maybe even distract himself. Regardless, a moment later, his hands were wandering up my back again and I suddenly needed him to stop.
"Noah," I muttered, trying to squirm away. "Stop...please."
"Why?" he muttered, leaning in to pepper kisses on my collarbone as his hands drifted further up my back.
"I need you to stop. Come on. Just stop, Noah," I said, trying to gently push him away. His hands left my back, but only to grab my wrists and pin them against the wall above my head as he continued to kiss my collarbone.
"Noah," I said, actually feeling on the verge of tears. I couldn't breathe. I needed space. I needed air. "Stop it!" I finally cried, my voice sounding even louder than it was in the empty, quiet house.
Finally, he pulled away and let go of me, looking down at me with a look of mild irritation. I was shaking at this point and I sunk to the floor and buried my head in my hands as I inhaled slowly through my nose, held it, then let it out. Just what Fred had told me to do.
"Damnit, Sophie," Noah said from above me, quietly thudding his fist against the counter.
"I know you're going through a tough time right now," I finally whispered through my tears and without raising my head from my hands. "And I want to be here for you. But I can't just..."
"Get over your fears and trust me?" Noah asked.
"I do trust you," I said, finally raising my head to look at him.
"Not enough," he argued.
I didn't have an answer to that. Instead, I just looked up at him, speechless.
"How long do you expect me to wait?" he asked, shaking his head. "How long do you expect me to hang around waiting for you to get your shit together?"
"What is happening with you?" I asked in alarm. "I realize I haven't known you all that long, but this does not seem like the way the Noah I know would process what's been going on."
"Well you're right. You don't know me that well. You don't know how I'd process anything." He stared at me for a moment. "I'm going to bed," he finally said, his voice low. He grabbed his mug of tea and headed for the stairs with it, leaving me sitting alone on the kitchen floor.
I ended up making myself comfortable on the living room couch that night. Only after I had continued to sit on the kitchen floor for a bit after Noah left. I couldn't even summon the energy to move.
I hated that Noah suddenly seemed so impatient and almost annoyed by me. I had admired how patient he was, but it seemed as if all of that was suddenly gone.
It was hard for me, too, though. It wasn't that I didn't want to kiss him. It wasn't that I didn't want him near me. I liked him. I really did. But I couldn't help myself. Once things started heating up, I got scared. It was too much, too fast and too close. I always ended up needing space and air. I hated that I was so screwed up, but I couldn't just change it with the snap of my fingers. I was trying and I was getting better. But it apparently wasn't quick enough. And it stung that the person I'd thought would always be gentle and patient with me was starting to become less of those things. I was afraid I'd been wrong to trust him so quickly. Maybe I hadn't known him much at all.
I didn't even know how long I'd sat on the kitchen floor before getting up and wandering into the living room, my tea remaining on the kitchen counter and most likely stone cold by now. I grabbed a blanket off the back of the couch and wrapped it around myself as I lay down, curled in the fetal position as a few tears actually slipped down my cheeks. I was afraid for Noah and I hated that he was going through this. I hated that he was in so much pain. And I hated that I was causing some of his frustration. But had I really done anything wrong exactly? I was confused and hurt and angry-with myself and with the world.
I debated going upstairs to see if Noah needed anything, but with the way we'd left things, I wasn't sure if he'd even respond. So instead, I curled up even tighter under my blanket, and even though it took me a while, I eventually drifted off to sleep.
What felt like a much needed sleep was interrupted at some point during the night by a loud clap of thunder and a flash of lightning. I bolted upright on the couch, gasping for air as I looked around wildly, my blanket now pooled in my lap. It was still dark, the moonlight streaming through the window. But I had no concept of how late into the night it was. One thing I was fairly sure of, however, was that I'd heard another crash mixed in with the thunder. This one had sounded like it came from the front entryway.
I held my breath as I listened for any other noises. When there were none, except for the sound of rain hitting the roof and the windows, I swung my legs over the side of the couch and pushed myself to a standing position. I crept to the living room door and peeked out into the foyer. No one was there, but the umbrella stand by the door had tipped over and the umbrellas were spilling out onto the floor.
"Noah?" I hissed, my voice hitching slightly. There was no answer. Everything was still.
Wearily, I glanced around at the shadowy, dark room before crossing to the umbrella stand and crouching to start putting them away. Once I was done, I righted the fallen stand and adjusted it where it had been before.
A creak sounded behind me and my heart suddenly jumped into my throat.
"Noah?" I said again, my voice a whisper. I started to turn around, but before I could, arms swiftly and quickly wrapped around me from behind, one arm wrapping around my stomach and the other moving to my throat as I screamed. I saw the glint of metal in the strip of light coming through the window from a street lamp and felt the cool blade of a knife against my throat a second later.
I let out a shriek as I fought against the person behind me. I refused to believe it was Noah, but then who else would it be? And considering my attacker could be Noah of all people made this all the more terrifying.
"Hold still," a deep voice snarled, pressing the knife into my throat a little harder.
I froze as my insides suddenly felt flooded with ice. That voice. I recognized it, but it wasn't Noah. It was a voice that I'd hoped never to hear again. It was the voice I'd been running from since April. Nearly four and a half months ago now. It was him. My foster father. Eric. The man who'd given me the scars on my back that I was so incredibly ashamed of. I wondered if he had done it with the same knife he was now pressing into my neck.
"Where's Noah?" I cried, tears blurring my vision. "What'd you do to him?"
"Hmm, maybe he ran away." Eric's voice was dripping with sarcasm, low and menacing in my ear. "Tell me, how would that make you feel? Angry, perhaps? Betrayed?" I could practically see him sneering. "Now, how do you think I felt when you ran away?"
"What does it matter?" I asked. "You never even liked me. Why would you be angry?"
Eric clucked his tongue. "I'm the one asking the questions here. You should know better than to argue with me. Or have you already forgotten?"
"Trust me, I haven't forgotten anything. I'm haunted by it all every single day."
"Then you should know to do as I say. For example, when I tell you that you're to come back to Salem with me-tonight-you'll do so without any questions or arguments."
I didn't answer. I had to get away somehow, but if I struggled with him, well, he was the one holding a knife to my throat. I had to get away from him somehow. My wand was lying on the floor not far from my feet. If I could just break away for a second or two, I could grab my wand and defend myself. His knife would be useless then. But I had to figure out how to get him to let go of me first.
"How did you even get here in the first place?" I asked, unable to stop myself. "And how did you find me?" I was genuinely curious, but I was also trying to buy my panicking brain some time to think and trying to give myself a chance to get away. To survive a little bit longer.
"It doesn't concern you." He shifted the knife slightly, just enough for it to catch the light. I scowled at his subtle reminder that he currently had the upper hand. "Now, be a good girl and stop asking questions, stop fighting me, and come along quietly back to Salem. You're going to pick up your wand and you're going to charm one of those umbrellas from that stand into one of those transportation things."
"A Portkey?" I asked.
"Whatever," he growled. He removed his arm from around my waist, instead gripping my upper left arm as tight as possible, keeping the knife at my throat with the other hand. "Go on, pick up your wand."
With a trembling hand, I knelt down and picked my wand up. I now had my one form of defense in my hand, but I knew Eric wasn't stupid. And he was quick. I couldn't just aim blindly or act without thinking. I had one shot at this and I also had a knife at my throat. I couldn't afford to make any hasty decisions.
"Do not even think about trying anything," Eric hissed, almost as if reading my mind. "Or I will not hesitate to kill you."
"I am the one with the magic wand here," I said, unable to stop myself.
In a swift movement, Eric moved the knife to my right arm, quickly using it to slash a painful line halfway between my elbow and shoulder. I let out a cry of pain as I felt the blood start to trickle from it.
"Next it'll be your neck," Eric said, bringing the knife back to my throat. "Now move. Towards the umbrella stand."
He forced me to take the few steps forward towards the umbrella stand. I reached out and closed my hand around the handle of one as I gazed out of the window in front of me. It was positioned to the left of the front door and looked out at the rain slicked London street. A street that was currently empty of people. Not that I'd be able to get anyone's attention anyway. Pounding on the window would only get me in trouble.
"Go on, charm the damn thing," Eric said, his voice a growl.
"I can't just...do this unauthorized," I said.
"Do you think I give a damn?" Eric snarled. "Now stop wasting time."
Thunder continued to rumble outside as a flash of lightning lit up the foyer. I gripped the umbrella tightly in my hand as I swiftly tried to slam the tip into Eric's foot. But unfortunately, I missed. Eric let out a cry of anger and spun me around, shoving me backwards into the door. My head cracked against the dark wood and I let out another cry of pain. Eric grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked, pulling my head back so that I was looking up at him as he pressed the tip of knife to my chest with his free hand.
"Do you want me to kill you?" he asked. Without waiting for an answer, he pulled me away from the door and shoved me to the ground where the umbrella had fallen. "Now, charm it."
Sniffling, I grabbed the umbrella, stood it against the wall and aimed my wand at it. My hand was shaking terribly. I was running out of time and I didn't know how to get myself out of this. But I had to. I had to.
I closed my eyes as more thunder rumbled and tears slid down my cheeks, matching the rain that was dripping down the windows. If I did go missing tonight, at least people knew I was here. Rachel did. And Tom and Martha would once they read my note. They'd come to investigate. They'd look for me. But I couldn't take the chance. I couldn't put them in danger. And what were the odds that Eric would keep me alive long enough for me to even be found?
"Do as I say and charm the umbrella," Eric ordered, coming up behind me and digging the knife into the skin of my neck.
I whimpered in protest.
"Do it!" he yelled, just as there was an extremely loud clap of thunder, almost immediately followed by a bright bolt of lightning. At the same time, the window in front of me shattered, the glass raining down on both of us.
I screamed and turned my head away from the falling glass, at the very least aiming to protect my face from harm. Eric ducked as well and covered his own head, freeing me completely. I saw my opportunity and took it, whirling around and aiming my wand at him.
"Stupefy!" I cried. The spell hit him and he flew backwards into the wall, knocking a picture frame off of it. It fell to the ground and shattered.
I spun around and looked at the shattered window, the rain pouring in through the empty space now. Had it really gotten hit by lightning? Was that likely? I supposed I should just accept it as a stroke of luck and get myself out. Out of the house and out of London completely. Now that Eric knew where I was, no one was safe, especially me. I had to leave. I had to go back to Tom and Martha's, pack a bag, and get out. They'd be devastated, but I had to do it. I couldn't risk Eric hurting them trying to find me again.
As I was turning to leave, I saw a shadow move from the area at the top of the stairs. I froze.
"Noah?" I asked. Had he been here the whole time? Had he been unconscious? Hurt?
As much as I thought it'd be better to leave without a goodbye and not make this harder than it was, I found myself jogging up the stairs.
"Noah?" I called again.
I went into every room on the top floor. They were all empty and, oddly untouched. Even Noah's room that he had supposedly been in earlier. There was absolutely no sign of life. But I'd sworn I'd seen a shadow. Perhaps it had been my imagination, which was definitely now in overdrive. Or it could have been a trick of the light. Or both.
A sudden chill ran down my spine and I shivered before rushing down the stairs and out the front door, into the street. I was drenched in a matter of seconds and tears were running down my face again. This was such a mess. Noah and his mother were both gone, Eric had found me, and I had to leave a place I had quickly fallen in love with. And I was leaving a complete disaster behind me, like some kind of human tornado. If everyone here liked me now, they were surely going to hate me by morning. I had stayed here against my better judgement. Because I knew that this would happen. That Eric would come looking for me. And he had found me.
I ran until I made it to an alleyway a few streets away. From there, I Apparated to a street not far from the Leaky Cauldron. Checking over both shoulders, I let myself inside and ran for the back stairs. I let myself into the flat and headed right for my room, trying to be as silent as possible so that I wouldn't wake Tom and Martha.
My chest was aching with silent sobs and I could feel myself getting more hysterical by the minute as I began to truly process what was happening. Eric was here. He'd found me. My worst fears had come true. I was running away and leaving this place for good. I was going to be homeless again. I was never going to see Rachel, Allie or Kayla again. Or the twins. I was never going to visit the Burrow again. And worst of all, I was leaving behind Tom and Martha, the first parental figures who'd treated me like a daughter in years.
And if Eric caught up to me again, he was going to bring me back to Salem, where he'd surely keep me on an even tighter leash than before. Either that or he'd kill me. So no matter what, I was at a loss.
I threw as many clothes as I could into a duffel bag as well as some shoes. I grabbed Elizabeth's diary as well as that mysterious necklace. I grabbed the money I'd saved and kept hidden beneath a loose floorboard. And then I even begrudgingly scribbled a note that I placed beside Buttercup, my pygmy puff. The note contained a hasty, but heartfelt goodbye, some equally heartfelt words of gratitude, and lastly, instructions to return Buttercup to Fred and to tell him I was sorry.
I finished stuffing all of my things into my bag and then grabbed the handle, swinging it off my bed. But in my haste, I swung it into a vase of flowers that Martha had put in my room to help brighten it up. The vase smashed to the floor, glass scattering across the floorboards. I groaned as I froze, listening for the sounds of Tom and Martha. I heard nothing, so I bolted from my room and headed for the main door of the flat. I had already yanked open the door and was halfway through it when the lights flicked on.
"Where the hell do you think you're going?"
Tom's voice from behind me was enough to send me into a fresh bout of tears. I hadn't even turned to look at him.
"Sophie?" That was Martha's voice. She was at my side in a second. "Sophie, dear, what's wrong? Why do you have a bag packed? And you're soaked to the bone. What was that crash we heard? And, oh my goodness, you're bleeding. Tom, she's bleeding-her arm." She turned back to me, her voice growing more and more worried. "Sophie. Please, talk to us. What happened?"
I couldn't talk. Not at first, anyway. I just sobbed into my hands for what felt like forever.
"You can tell us," she whispered. "That's what we're here for. To protect you. To help you. To keep you safe. You don't have to run. Please don't run."
I lifted my puffy, tear soaked face and looked at her in desperation. "Eric-my foster dad-he's here. He found me. I have to leave in order to protect you." I glanced from Martha, who was gaping at me in horror, to Tom, who's eyes were wide, but his jaw was set. "I know you have guests and customers and staff to worry about in addition to yourselves. I can't endanger you. For your sake and my own. I could never live with myself if-"
"No, Sophie, you're staying here. We want to protect you," Martha said. "Tom, tell her not to go anywhere," she insisted firmly. "Tell her!"
Tom looked at me for a moment longer before swallowing. "You stay in this flat," he said. "You hear me? I'm going to put up extra protective charms around the entire building. Martha, you call the Order at once. Get them over here immediately. And we'll go from there."
"But-" I protested.
"No buts," Tom said, his voice firm. "You were right when you said I have guests and staff members and myself and Martha to worry about protecting. But now we also have you. And I'll be damned if I'm going to let that bastard lay another finger on you. You're our family now. Not that you were ever his..." He set his jaw again and swallowed thickly before tilting his head to the couch. "Put your bag down and stay put."
I stared at him, feeling almost overwhelmed by emotion. He gave me a weak smile before going about performing the charms while Martha ran off to contact the Order-whatever that was.
And as for me, I let my bag drop to the ground, let Martha usher me into the bathroom for a hot bath, and allowed Tom's words to play over and over in my head.
You're our family now.
