🌹Van🍀

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She was sleeping when I pulled up outside the house. It was early afternoon and the sun was bright but the coastal air was cold and I was reminded of the last time id been here.

Once with Lyra and her mother. I hadn't been supposed to go, hadn't been supposed to know that the place was even being bought but they had sworn me to secrecy and taken me with them on their excursion when they'd seen Will Hall and my father on one together.

Lyras and Johnnys mother had always differed from mine in that she was too merciful for her own good. At least in our family she was. She would, if she thought she could get away with it, and sometimes even when she knew she wouldn't, show mercy when she could. Try to protect the children from the callous nature of the men who ran the Balcony. She had always been soft on me and my brother and and when he had vanished after that fateful day she had been the only one brave enough to ask where he was when he didn't come home. The only one bold enough to raise the question, why weren't we worried? Why weren't we looking for him.

She had worn a shameless black eye for two weeks after that question.

So when she'd found me outside on the green with Bondy and Camille she'd saved me from a brutal experience that would have been similar by greeting me with a smile.

"There he is, the wanted man,"

And she had pretended that when she said wanted, she had meant wanted by her and Lyra for something desperately important. Not by my father and Will Hall for an exercise in torturing your friends. Another attempt to kick the empathy and the conscience from me completely.

I had learnt to switch it off by then but they hadn't killed me completely and the two of them were growing to despise me for it.

The tasks they would set me got worse every time, not just a killing but a maiming, they wanted me to watch them and revel in the harm and the trauma they could inflict on others. They wanted me to take Camille to work every night and chip away at her soul the same as all the other vile creatures who crawled out the woodwork at night.

They were relentless but they were arrogant, thought I admired them, thought I aspired to be like them, when in reality every day that went by saw bitterness burn away at my patience and when my father had been killed I'd only been sorry it wasn't me who'd put a bullet in him.

That day when Lyra and her mother had taken me to Scarborough to see the cottage on the slope down towards the beach, the sand stretching out miles of glittering auburn in the evening, dreary and grey in the day, they had told me it would be a holiday home. That it was a surprise and that I couldn't tell anyone because it was for the kids and they didn't want anybody to know about it.

Now, all these ten years later I understood that that had been a lie.

This house had been for Lyra and Si, to run away to. To escape the family for good. Only her mother would know where they had gone, and she'd have died to keep that secret for her daughter and her baby.

Well now, Lyras baby was all grown up, fast asleep in my arms as I carried her over the threshold, and that little cottage on the slope would finally fulfill its purpose. It would be our sanctuary, it would keep Izzy safe and hidden from all who would wish harm upon her.

That was a promise I had made to myself. A promise I would put my life on the line to keep.

The house was dark, dust covers on the furniture, left empty and undisturbed for years. Still, I checked every room vigilently anyway, making certain we were alone before I relaxed and lay her down in the bedroom.

She looked at peace, sleeping softly on  top of the sheets, my jacket still round her shoulders keeping her warm. She looked beautiful too.

I sat down beside her, lay back against the pillows and let out a soft sigh, tried to relax but i couldnt. My mind was racing, wearied by the fight, the sight of her, the minutes I had spent thinking she was dead, the desperate attempt at saving her, the sight of the pain in her dull eyes as I'd stitched her up, the seconds I'd spent expecting her brother to put a bullet in me, the long walk, the drive, and now this. This house full of memories which were never made.

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