Ignite

Chapter 24

When my alarm goes off early Saturday morning, insistent and high-pitched, my heart lurches, the dread settling in before I even gain consciousness. My hand slams into the snooze button, nearly knocking my phone off the bedside table, and I roll over, staring at the cracks in the ceiling that run like cobwebs above my head.

I'm flying to Melbourne today.

I'm going to Ravenhall today.

I glance at the empty suitcase I'd ignored last night, hoping this was a bad dream.

The one that should've been packed and ready so we could leave within half an hour.

I swear and jump up, throwing random pairs of clothes and socks inside. I grab my phone charger and laptop as there's a soft knock on the door and Sylvia's head peaks in, pale against the dark hallway.

"Oh, wonderful, you're awake. There're eggs and toast downstairs once you're ready. Have you finished packing?"

I shift, hoping to hide the unprepared chaos that is my suitcase.

"Yeah," I say, voice scratchy. "Just adding a few last things."

She nods and then she's gone, closing the door and moving further down the corridor to check on Jake.

I drag a hand through my hair, looking around the shadowy room, grey with twilight.

I'm not sure when this place started feeling like home. But I realise now it does. That if given the choice, I'd spend my entire weekend snuggled under my covers, listening to the squeak of Peter and Sylvia moving up and down the staircase, rather than return to the place I spent my childhood in.

When I head to the kitchen, Sylvia, Peter and Jake are already there, and we eat quietly — the silence only broken by the low hum of the radio. There's no calmness, though. No, Jake is jittery, Sylvia on edge, and Peter looks like someone put off milk in his coffee.

At least I'm not the only one with a racing heart and no way to calm it. though.

When we finish, we put our plates away and hail a taxi. I listen to a podcast as we drive to the airport, trying to distract myself, but it only ends up making my head too full.

On the plane, I switch tactics and read a book, one that I'd been obsessing about all week, but I find my eyes glazing over, my mind drifting for several pages at a time and my knee bouncing with nervous energy.

But the train to Ravenhall is the worst.

That trip, I will always remember as one filled with thunderheads. And the closer we get to Ravenhall, the more my insides storm, filling with panic and dark troubled edges.

And then we're there, standing outside Dame Phyllis Frost Centre, ready for our 11-1pm visiting slot.

Peter checks us in and the guards pat us down and look through our bags. When we're let into the hallway, the four of us come to a stop.

"Okay," Sylvia says, perching on the corner of an uncomfortable looking metal bench. "We have two hours. Maybe it'd be best if we split it up equally. Peter and I won't go in, so would you and Jake like an hour each or do you want to see her together?"

My head is foggy, and it takes a moment to realise Sylvia's talking to me, her face drawn and anxious.

I glance at Jake to find him watching me.

"I want to go separately," he says. "If that's okay?"

I nod and relief sweeps across his face. Then he sits.

"You can go first."

I'm frozen on the spot, suddenly determined to run as far and fast from here as possible, but Sylvia grabs my hand before I can.

"You can do this, Claude. Even if you only stay in there for five minutes, that's okay."

Jake seems somewhat unimpressed by this statement, but it works magic on me.

Five minutes, I think. I can do five minutes. Five minutes isn't a light jog. It's not even enough to cook a frozen pizza.

"Okay," I say, and before I panic again, I turn and stride down the corridor, guard in tow, and throw the door to the visitor's centre open, scanning the inmates.

When I find her, she's already looking at me. I turn my gaze away again, letting it land on anything and everything else; the orange jumpsuits, the guards standing watch, the dull, grey walls.

"Claudia," she says, and I flinch.

Her voice has changed in the past few months, become less ragged and raspy. Maybe they don't let her smoke in here.

"Claude," she tries again, "look at me."

It takes a moment, a lifetime, but eventually, I do.

Here was a face that used to hover over me; a face that I'd once run to when scared; a face that shared my eyes and my smile and had brought me into this world and then taken so many others from it.

I swallow hard and then I walk over, sitting down and studying her.

"Hi, mum." 

...

Did anyone see that one coming?! I know a few of you predicted it in some earlier comments :P

Next chapter out in a week!

- Skylar xx