Thank you reviewers! You're all great support! XD
Dreams And Threats
Tom snorted with laughter as he pushed Amy off the school bus in front of him. The sky was already growing dark overhead as the students that lived in Little Weirwold jumped off the muddy minibus, their bags heavy with books for homework. Tom had been entertaining the nervous Amy all the way to school, then back in the evening, with films that he'd recorded on his phone. The one Tom had just shown her was of a physics experiment they had done, and the poor little conical flask had been overflowing with white froth, as the students took it in turns to dart their phones in as close as they could to the obvious disaster. If Tom hadn't insisted on kicking two smaller kids out of seats, Amy wouldn't have been able to cope on the strange bus without him.
Rat-faced boy was on the bus as well, Amy had noticed. The filthy look he'd given her as Tom had dumped his bags on the floor besides her as they had seated themselves was enough to make Amy feel that the boy did not thank her for Tom's absence in the seat with his gang. As the two friends began to walk towards the church, the bully pushed past, knocking Tom sideways into Amy. He stumbled, grabbing Amy's shoulders to steady himself, and the girl let out a small scream of surprise. Tom was apologising furiously, then looked up and bellowed: "Darren! Darren, what are you playin' at?" But the boy had run off.
"I thought you said he was Ian," Amy muttered, adjusting the strap of her bag to even out the weight once more, as Tom picked up his rucksack from the ground where he'd dropped it.
"No, he's Darren. That's Ian." Another boy walked past, following after Darren. He shot Amy a filthy look, refusing to acknowledge Tom. "Don' worry, I'm sure they'll come round after their bruised pride heals."
Amy paled slightly. "I haven't caused a rift between you and your friends, have I?"
"No." Tom didn't sound like he believed his own words. "Look, I've got a ton of revision to do like. I'll see you tomorrow morning."
"Will you be in the chatroom?" Amy asked hopefully, but the boy shook his head.
"Mum bans me during the week, 'till she feels I'm puttin' in 200 per cent like." They stopped by the vicarage door, Tom shrugging. "Well...see you."
Amy nodded and scampered inside. She felt so stupid, as thought Tom was blaming her for the bad feelings amongst his friends. Not that he'd said as much, but the look that had been in his eyes as the guy Ian had purposefully blanked him... Amy shuddered and raced upstairs, barely noticing Aunt Tilly calling out to her from the kitchen. She raced upstairs, dumped her bag on the ground, and began to change out of her uniform – the black trousers and blue shirt were more relaxed than the smart green skirt and mustard-yellow shirt of her London uniform, but Amy hated any type of uniform with a vengeance. The squeal of breaks outside on the road made her freeze as her fingers plucked open the buttons of her shirt, then she dropped to a crouch at the end of her bed, chewing her lip nervously as she held her breath.
"Yer a filthy, no-good townie! We don't want you, do you hear? Go back to London!" Amy recognised the voice as rat-boy's, and she shuddered. I've made an enemy! "Go back to London! We don't wan' you here!"
She heard the bang of doors outside, the grating of bike wheels on the tarmac. Amy jumped as she heard old Will's voice shouting from the front door of his house, and even from upstairs in her room, Amy could almost feel the way his voice shook with disgust. "Get out of here, Darren Jenkins! How dare you? Go on, get away!"
Amy was trembling. She finally managed to shed her shirt, throwing the useless garment away as her throat tightened and became sore. Her eyes felt moist; she couldn't help feeling hurt by the hateful words Darren had shouted. And so publicly! She felt even more stupid and worthless; even worse, Tom must have heard as well.
I hate this village! Amy thought fiercely. She cursed herself as she realised her t-shirts were all in her chest of draws, but moving from safe ball at the end of her bed was the last thing she felt like doing. She ignored the tears that rolled down her cheeks, and sniffed back her runny nose. It's a cold, nothing more! C'mon, move! You can't sit here forever – you've got homework to do!
She forced herself up onto her knees and crossed to the chest of draws. She pushed her Superman t-shirt out of the way, fingers barely able to grasp the plain, simple grey t-shirt. It was baggy and didn't stand out – that was the last thing Amy wanted to do. She---
"Heaven bless!" Amy spun as she heard Aunt Tilly's voice, then quickly dragged her t-shirt up over her head as she reddened. She hadn't realised the woman had knocked. Aunt Tilly was staring at her in horror. "Amy...what are those horrible marks on your back?" Her voice was quiet, sickened.
"N-nothing," Amy replied quickly, knowing she was lying. Her back was a shrine to Andrew's belt and buckle, and she was still aware of the bruise that his fist had left. It may not have been as inflamed or purple as it had been to begin with, but it was still stark against her pale skin. "I fell over. H-hit my back on the wall. I'm fine."
She looked up at met Aunt Tilly's gaze, but it was obvious that the woman did not believe a word she said. "Amy, if there's anything you want to tell me, we can sort it out. I promise! No one should treat you like that, do you hear me? No one!"
"I fell!" Amy insisted, then shook her head. "Please, you're blowing this out of proportion!" Andrew will kill me if I tell!
The woman sniffed, back stiffening. Was she offended that Amy wouldn't tell her? "Tom's on the phone. Do you want to talk to him? Or should I ask him what those bruises are all about?"
Amy pushed past the vicar's wife, grumbling under her breath. She hurried down the stairs, picking up the handset from the chair next to the stairs. "Hello?"
"Are you all right?" Amy felt her heart swell – Tom sounded concerned! "Darren's an idiot! He talks crap; you shouldn't listen to him, but that was uncalled for. Granddad says he's gonna call up his folks and report him."
"Don't do that!" she gasped, horrified. "He'll just aggravate the situation! I'm grateful he sent him away, but... Tom, don't let him! Darren will just get angrier!"
Tom choked on the other end of the line, as though unable to believe what she was saying. "You're kiddin' me, righ'? Well, I'll be pickin' bones with him tomorrow like, no matter what you say! He shouldn't 'ave done tha', and I'll see he leaves you well alone!" There was silence over the line for a moment, the two teenagers bristling with anger. Finally, Tom sighed and muttered: "Look, do you want me to come over?"
"You have revision," objected Amy quietly, then shook her head. "I'll see you tomorrow before school. All right?"
"Honestly, don' listen to Darren. He'll cool off – I hope. Bye."
"See you," Amy whispered, then replaced the phone. When she turned, Aunt Tilly was standing behind her, her facial expression unreadable. "I told Tom not to come over."
"Amy, I want to talk to you about those marks on your back," the woman told her quietly. "What in the name of all that is good happened?"
The girl just stood there and stared. There wasn't enough words within her head to tell what had happened, not that she wished to. Although the vicar and his wife were nice, Amy didn't know how nice they'd remain if they knew what a sinner she was. She didn't want to lose the closest thing she'd had to a family in such a long, long time. Tears welled at the back of her eyes, and Amy was suddenly crying. Aunt Tilly reached out and gently pulled the girl into her arms, hugging her tightly to her as Amy wept and wept.
"Who did this to you, Amy?" Aunt Tilly asked quietly, as she stroked the child's blonde hair soothingly. "You can tell me, child. We can sort this out, I promise. Just tell me who's hurt you like this so badly."
She nearly missed Amy's reply through the girl's sobs, but when Amy repeated herself, the woman felt her blood turn to ice within her veins. "I wasn't hurt by anyone! Please, just...just leave it!"
Amy wrenched out of the tight grasp, turning and running from the woman. She heard Aunt Tilly shouting her name, pleading with her to calm down, that everything would be alright... But how could it be? She'd nearly told! Andrew said it was more than her life's worth to tell, that no one would believe her anyway, and now she was asking for someone to find out what kind of a child she was. She didn't want the vicar and his wife to realise how evil she was! Amy didn't stop running until she was upstairs in her room, hitting off the light switch as she past. She headed straight for bed, too shaken to do anything but sleep.
Andrew was there. In her dream, a belt in one hand, a book in the other. 'Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone'... As he had done the night he'd discovered the book in Amy's closet, Andrew looked like he was about to be sick.
"How dare you read something like this? It goes against God! It goes against everything good!"
"It's a children's book – it's not wrong!" Amy begged, feeling suddenly stupid. "Please, Andrew. It's just a book---"
Andrew shoved the book in her face. Amy gasped, on the front cover was Tom – just Tom – and Andrew's hand snarled on her shoulder. "You're meddling, girl! Meddling with hearts and lips is bad. He's encouraging you, girl."
"No!"
Andrew's face grew livid. "He's throwing you to Satan! Deny that you've been with this boy!"
"I'm innocent!"
"LIAR!"
Amy was suddenly awake. On the border of her panic, Amy heard the front door slam, then a buffet of icy wind whipped up her hair. She didn't realise that it was barely a half hour after she had gone to bed - it felt like years. Amy was distantly aware of her bare feet pounding on the ground as she forced the gate at the bottom of the garden open, then she was through into the graveyard. Where was she going? Amy didn't have time to think about that as she heard the door open again behind her, and Aunt Tilly's voice pierced the night air.
"Amy! Amy, come back! Amy!"
Amy reached the end of the graveyard, turning her eyes away from the sight of the church. God's watching me, Amy thought wildly, still half stuck in her dream. Within that dream, Amy knew Andrew had been right to call her liar, even if in the real world his accusation would have been wrong. He'll see everything I've done, heard all I said... I know He's hating me, I know it!
She felt the cool wood under her palms, heard the creaking of the gate as she forced it open. Aunt Tilly was still screaming her name, even now she was running after the girl, but Amy was of a slight build, smaller, and nearly forty odd years younger. Out into the field beyond Amy ran, wanting only to get away, wanting to find the nearest hole and hide. All she could think about was getting as far away from Little Weirwold as she could.
Someone seized her by the arm. Amy shrieked with terror, trying to pull away, but the person merely grabbed her arm caught arm with his second hand, pulling her out of her run so abruptly that Amy nearly tripped. It was Andrew; he'd caught her already! Amy reacted the only way should could think: she closed her eyes and swung her free hand – which was clenched into a terrified fist – at her stepfather. She heard a dull thud of the impact on his shoulder, but it barely made him flinch.
"Amy, stop it!"
Amy struck again and again, screaming at Andrew to let her go. Finally, she heard a small cry of pain as she wildly punched him, catching the side of his head, and the grip on her arm vanished. Freed, Amy turned and sprinted blindly away, stumbling over the uneven ground of the field.
"Amy, for God's sakes, wait!"
The grip returned, this time on her waist. Amy struck out again; Andrew hit back, shoving her to the ground. As Amy tried to scramble back to her feet, sobbing with terror, a pair of hands caught her shoulders, pulling her back. She was forced back and down within seconds, positioned randomly so that she was lying looking up at the stars, and the hands kept her pinned. Amy screamed even louder.
"Calm down! Amy, stop fightin' me, it's Tom!"
His voice broke through her panic. Her terrified tears gave way to ones of humiliation and shock. Tom? She'd been fighting Tom? No! No, it was Andrew! He was toying with her!
"Get away from me! Let me go! Not again, please!"
Tom struggled to keep the girl pinned – for someone so scrawny, Amy was surprisingly strong. But this wasn't the Amy he was getting to know, this was an Amy that Tom didn't know whether to pity or fear. She had her eyes scrunched for the most part, but when she did open them, her green eyes were alive with terror and unseeing confusion. What had happened? Why was Amy so out of control suddenly?
Darren! Tom thought suddenly, feeling very cold. But how could somethin' so...so childish as his stupid jealousy affect Amy like this? There must be---
"Tom?" It was Will, accompanying Mrs Mayne. Tom didn't risk letting go of Amy, case she tried to make another break for freedom. "Heaven bless, you're bleeding!"
"It's nothin'," growled Tom, knowing all too well the wound on the side of his head was due to Amy's nails. "What happened? What's wrong with her?"
For a moment, Will didn't say anything. Neither did Mrs Mayne. They stood besides Tom, their faces a mixture of anger and sadness, waiting until Amy's struggles became less violent on the ground where Tom held her. Finally, the girl lay very still where she was, sobbing piteously. Tom gently pulled the girl up into a sitting position, hushing her as he held her to him, hugging her close.
"Granddad," Tom insisted again, looking back at Will and glaring with eyes wild with annoyance, "what's wrong with Amy?"
"You'd best bring her inside, Tom," was all the man replied, his tone gentle. "We don't want her to catch her death, do we?"
"Granddad, I---"
Will held up his hand to silence the boy. "We'll tell you inside – now isn't the place."
The old man bent to help pull Tom and Amy to their feet. The girl was trembling violently all over, tears staining her cheeks, yet Tom did not ease his hold of her shoulders. He looked at the quietly observing Mrs Mayne, whose hands seemed to be clasped in prayer.
"All right, Granddad," Tom muttered quietly, then nodded. "It had better be a good excuse like."
There are two members in the chatroom: Tom/Liam
Tom: Liam, it's Tom.
Liam: Yea, the name on the comment box kinda gave you away. Sorry to burst your happy bubble.
Tom: Amy had a nightmare last night. She went completely berserk, tried to run away. I went after her, but she didn't seem to recognise me. She hit me.
Liam: What did you do to her?
Tom: Nothing! I just tried to stop her running away.
Liam: Is she alright now?
Tom: Doctor told her to take a day off school to try and calm down. She's a bundle of nerves, though she's claiming everything is OK. Why would she think I'm your stepfather? She didn't want me to touch her.
Liam: She must have been dreaming about him.
Tom: Why would she tell me to "let her go" and "not again"?
Liam: Look, Tommy-boy, you should probably know that I don't like you. I also don't like people who go nosing into business that don't concern them.
Tom: Amy's my friend!
Liam: And she's MY little sister. If she wants to tell you, she will in her own time. I'll keep my mouth shut, thanks.
Tom: What kind of brother are you if you don't want to help the people who are trying to help your sister! She's hardly eaten anything today! I don't think she slept a wink last night after the nightmare!
Liam: You have no right to tell me what kind of brother I am! There are things that have happened to our family, mate, that we prefer keeping to ourselves! Keep your nose out or else I'll bloody it for you!
Tom: Is that a threat?
Liam: Oh I wouldn't try being cocky with me. Lay one finger on my sister, nose around where you ain't wanted, and I'll hunt you down. I mean what I say.
Tom: You're a nasty piece of work, Liam Wilson.
Liam: Why thank you, Tommo! I'm flattered!
Tom: Will you at least call Amy? I'm sure SHE'D like to hear from you.
Liam: I can't right now. Maybe later.
Tom: Thanks, Liam. You've been a fantastic help.
Tom has signed off.
Eddie has signed in.
Eddie: I'm sending you the papers. Sent them off today.
Liam: When will they be here?
Eddie: Should reach Barrings by Monday, if we're lucky.
Liam: That doesn't give me much time. What are they in? You didn't just SEND them, did you?
Eddie: I'm not an idiot, Liam. No, I sent you a squeaky dragon toy – cut it up and find the forms for freedom within!
Liam: You know when your sister had that boyfriend? The one that got her up the duff last year?
Eddie: That guy was a complete freak! Whoever invented abortions was a genius. Yea, what about him?
Liam: How did you get rid of him again?
Eddie: Smashed the windows of his house and car. Used a bit of graffiti to spray a warning on the wall outside his house. Why?
Liam: I think Amy's getting involved with a loser like him.
Eddie: Careful, Liam, the price I paid for my little array of gifts to my sister's ex was a little too heavy for my tastes. Anyway, isn't she in Cornwall?
Liam: Little Weirwold. It doesn't matter, Eddie, forget I said anything.
Eddie: Just make sure you keep the forms hidden, all right?
Liam: Yeh. Thanks, mate.
Liam has signed off.