Diana's Writing Blog

In case you hadn’t noticed my awesome word count progress bar, I won NaNo again this year! Luckily, I managed to finish it before my Thanksgiving break. Because, let me tell you, I did a lot of running last week. Picking up the sis in Milwaukee, helping Mom shop and cook, and of course hitting every store in town on Black Friday. Also, Mom has Tivo and the bro brought up his Xbox and let me play Fallout 3. So I spent a lot of time on the couch.

I also saw New Moon. Ironically. Like for the lulz not for the underage shirtlessness. Seriously, neither one of them really did anything for me. Neither heroin chic or overly buff and underage really do anything for me. I do love me some Peter Facinelli though. But mostly I watch for the lulz. Although, there was a part that unexpectedly freaked me the frick out. Anybody who’s seen it, you know the part where she’s sinking underwater? And then freaky pale Edward floats up from the depths. Holy crap, people! Pale dead things floating up from the murky water is a new phobia of mine.

Anyway…yeah, writing. Pretty happy with how the novel turned out. The writing’s a bit rough, but the overall plot is sound. This could be the one I smooth out and shop around. This could be The One! Maybe…. Until I go back and look at it again and decide I hate it. But for now, I like it.

Well, I hit 50k yesterday. I’m on chapter 9 of 10 now, so I’m guessing it’ll end up being about 60k max. That’s kind of short for a novel, especially one I wrote, but I want Thanksgiving weekend off, so I’m okay with it.

Also, I posted an excerpt of my story’s EXCITING CLIMAX over at nanowrimo

So, I’m on chapter 4 now and on track to hit 25,000 words tomorrow. This’ll probably be the last excerpt I put up, but I feel like it’s where the action really kicks off, so I wanted to share. Again, it’s in no way the finished, polished version.

Terra woke her the next morning.

“I can’t believe you ran away and got caught already and I slept through it,” she said, shaking her head. “Barb says you’re getting moved. You gotta get ready. Your case worker’ll be here soon.”

Emily looked down at herself. Until someone took her to get her things from the cemetery, she was wearing her only set of clothes. She stood and pushed her cot away so Terra could get to the closet.

“They throwing you in the loony bin?” the younger girl asked as she pulled out her clothes.

Emily nodded.

“Dang,” said Terra.

“Yeah,” Em agreed.

“You got your stuff? You all packed up?”

Emily shrugged. “What’s it matter?”

She didn’t get to eat, of course. Her last meal had been Terra’s peace offering at lunch. No one had been able to sneak any dinner out under Barb and Emmet’s watchful eyes. And there wouldn’t be time to slip her anything before Mrs. Hendricks came to get her.

Still, Em stood at the table with the rest of the girls, sipping her milk and watching the others eat their cereal. A honk sounded out front, making Barb jump. “That’ll be your case worker, Emily.”

Emily stood frozen for a moment, wondering if she ought to say goodbye to the others, to Barb and Emmet. But Emmet stayed at the table, reading his morning paper and Barb stayed where she was at the sink, washing dishes.

“Well,” said Emily. “I guess I’ll be going, then.”

Terra blocked her path as she moved around the counter. The younger girl rolled her eyes and held her arms out. “Don’t cry or anything, okay?”

Emily smiled and stooped to hug her. “Thank you,” she whispered, wishing desperately for her pad and pencil.

“Maybe you’ll get a good place,” Terra muttered. “Maybe it won’t be so bad. You just gotta make it till you’re eighteen. Then you’re free.”

Emily stepped back and nodded. “Take care of yourself.”

Mrs. Hendricks honked again as Emily emerged onto the porch. But Emily wasn’t in any mood to hurry. She looked back at the house one last time, saying goodbye to the cramped, rundown place that had been her sanctuary.

Mrs. Hendricks didn’t say anything as Emily buckled herself in, just sped off on the all-too-familiar route to the social services office. She paused a moment as they parked in front of the building, regarding Emily like she wanted to say something. Em kept her gaze straight ahead and finally Mrs. Hendricks sighed and shoved her door open. “Come on, we’re late.”

Mrs. Hendricks stopped short as they entered the building, making Emily stumble as she tried to avoid running into her social worker. Emily stepped around the woman and saw an older black man motion Mrs. Hendricks over.

“Wait here, Emma,” she said, frowning.

Em slumped into a nearby metal folding chair, watching the pair as they talked. Mrs. Hendricks shot a look over her shoulder at Emily, then said something to the man.

“Emily?” A new, male voice from her right made her jump. A man in his mid forties stood at the little folding table by the door that held coffee and Styrofoam cups. He had jet black hair that was graying at the temples and silver eyes. He was wearing a black suit. It looked new and starkly out of place in a room full of social workers dressed in worn, ill fitting brown and blue suits. Was he a doctor from the facility they were sending her to?

He smiled and set aside his cup of coffee, coming over to squat in front of Emily. “It is you, isn’t it?” he said, putting a hand over Emily’s where they were folded in her lap. “You look just like your mother.”

She yanked away from him in surprise and the man sat back, holding up his hands. “I’m sorry. Of course you don’t remember me. I should’ve—” He shook his head. “My name is Anton Beaudine. I’m a friend of your father’s. We grew up together. We were like brothers. Did he never speak of me?”

Emily shook her head.

“Oh, here. They told me you couldn’t speak.” He pulled something out of his inside pocket and handed it to her.

It was a little black computer. Like those PDAs that businessmen used to use before Blackberries were invented. It folded open to reveal a keyboard and a little screen.

“Go ahead, try it. You type and it’ll read your words aloud.”

Emily shrugged. Hi, she typed. The computer read it back in a neutral, female voice.

Anton smiled. “Hello.”

Mrs. Hendricks returned and Anton stood. “Follow me, please,” she said to them.

She led them back to the glass walled room where the man who had been talking to Mrs. Hendricks was waiting. “Thank you, Harriet, I’ll take it from here.”

Mrs. Hendricks caught Emily’s arm as she passed. “You are incredibly lucky,” she murmured. “Don’t forget it.”

“Have a seat,” said the new man. “I’m Philip Barker, senior caseworker here.”

Anton motioned for Emily to sit, then took the seat next to hers.

“Now,” said Mr. Barker, flipping open a file in front of him. “Mr. Beaudine, you’re a friend of the family?”

“As I was explaining to Emily,” said Anton, “I knew Tom Richards when we were children. We moved to opposite ends of the country for college and fell out of touch for the most part.” He looked to Emily with a fond smile. “He sent me a picture years ago of your mother holding you and your sister on the day you were born.”

Emily nodded. That same picture hung on the wall by their front door. Or used to. She supposed it had been thrown out by now.

“I recently moved back into the area,” said Anton, turning back to Mr. Barker, “and I went to look up my old friend.” He shook his head. “I couldn’t believe it when I heard the news. I searched for Emily,” he patted Em’s hand, “just to pay my respects, never imagining that there was no one to take her in. When I heard that she was a ward of the state, I simply had to step in.”

Emily looked to the man in surprise. He couldn’t really be saying what she thought he was, could he? He hadn’t even seen her father in decades. He couldn’t really mean to take her in.

Anton gripped her hand in his. “Yes, Emily, I want you to come and live with me—If you’d like to, of course. It’s the least I could do for your father.”

Mr. Barker cleared his throat. “I’m afraid it’s a bit more complicated than that. Since you aren’t related to Ms. Richards and the late Mr. and Mrs. Richards never explicitly named you as a guardian for their daughter, the state requires that you be screened and evaluated to ensure that you can provide a safe, nurturing environment for Ms. Richards.” He looked down at the file in front of him again. “Given that you live across state lines, it would be difficult to get a court to agree to even a temporary placement.”

Anton nodded. “Yes, my lawyer advised me of that. I’ve already rented a temporary residence within the city. I’ll stay there with Emily for the moment.”

“Hmm.” Mr. Barker rocked back in his chair. “Well, in that case, I don’t see why we can’t get you an order of temporary custody today. I’ll also put the paperwork through for an emergency hearing to get you permanent custody.”

Anton smiled and rose, reaching across the table to shake the older man’s hand. “Thank you, Mr. Barker. I can’t tell you what this means to me.”

Emily flipped open her little computer. Me too, she typed. Thank you!

Anton smiled down at her and clapped her on the shoulder. “Are you ready to go? Do you need to say any goodbyes?”

Emily shook her head and stood. Ready to go, she typed.

Anton motioned for her to precede him out the door. Back in the main office, Anton paused and looked around. “Where’s your social worker? Hasn’t she got your things for you?”

Emily unfolded her computer, infinitely thankful for the little gadget. In storage, she wrote. Had a backpack, but the cops wouldn’t let me go get it when they found me.

Anton frowned. “The police?”

Ran away, she explained. She paused, debating whether or not to mention the looming psycho ward, but decided against it. Wanted to visit my family’s grave. No one would take me.

“That’s terrible,” said Anton. “I don’t blame you for taking matters into your own hands.” He put an arm around her. “Come along, that’ll be our next stop.”

Outside, her new guardian led her over to a shiny black town car. He held the door open for her, then waited until Emily was situated, and shut it again.

Anton got into the driver’s seat. “Oh,” he said, looking over to where Emily was gripping her seatbelt in both hands. “Forgive me, I’d forgotten. Would you feel safer in the backseat?”

Backseat’s worse, Emily typed. Please don’t speed.

Anton nodded gravely. “Of course. You let me know if I’m going too fast,” he said as they pulled out.

He didn’t go too fast. He stayed exactly to the speed limit, even shooting Emily a questioning glance as they sped up to forty five for part of the way. Em gave him a brave smile in return. It wasn’t like driving with Mrs. Hendricks, at all. She trusted him.

When they reached the cemetery, Anton made no move to get out. “Would you mind if I joined you in a moment?” he asked, reaching into his jacket. “I need to make a quick call.”

Emily nodded and resisted the urge to shoot a nervous glance in the direction she knew Evie’s grave was.

She made her way slowly through the graves. Under a cheerful summer sky, what she’d seen the night before seemed ludicrous. “What’s makes more sense?” she muttered to herself as she neared her family’s graves. “That you saw Evie’s ghost telling you to kill yourself or that you had a really convincing dream?”

Still, she shot a wary look around before stooping to retrieve the backpack that lay across Evie’s grave. She shook the blanket off and shoved it inside, jumping to her feet again.

She shrieked and fell back as she came face to face with her translucent twin.

“You can’t trust that man,” said Evelyn, walking through her own headstone to crouch in front of Emily. “He’s lying about everything. He never knew Dad and he wants to hurt us. Both of us.”

Emily slapped her hands over her ears. “You’re not real,” she sobbed. “Go away!”

“Listen to me!” Evie snapped, trying to claw Em’s hands away from her ears. “He’s on his phone right now. He knows about me. He’s planning something. Something bad.”

“What do you care?” Emily snapped. “You’re already dead. And you want me dead, too.”

Evie shook her head. “Not like that. If he does it, neither of us will be free.” She gasped and suddenly vanished like smoke dissipating.

Emily looked around and saw Anton hurrying toward her. “Poor thing,” he said, dropping to one knee next to Em and wrapping his arms around her. “There now, let it out.”

And Emily did cry, wrapping her arms around his neck and sobbing into his shoulder. But she didn’t cry for her family. No, this time it was fear. Fear that she really was crazy. Or that she wasn’t and her dead sister really was haunting her.

But she’d disappeared when Anton got near, Emily realized. Whatever she was, Anton could keep her away.

She pulled away and climbed to her feet, clutching her backpack against her chest and staring one last time at the three headstones. Anton stayed kneeling. “Did you do this?” he asked, tracing the clumsily carved inscription she’d made on each.

Emily nodded.

“Poor thing,” he said again, standing. “I’ll tell you what, when all of this is finally settled, we’ll get them new headstones. Ones that are more fitting. How does that sound?”

Emily smiled and nodded.

“Shall we go?”

Emily nodded again. She couldn’t help shooting one last glance over her shoulder as Anton ushered her back to the car. No sign of Evie.

***

The apartment wasn’t at all what Emily was expecting. After the social services office and Barb and Emmet’s house, her imagination was sort of stuck on run down and cramped. The apartment Anton had found them was neither.

It was in what looked like a brand new apartment complex at the edge of town. It towered over the buildings around it, its new brick and shiny steel trim gleaming.

The lobby of the building looked like it belonged in a posh hotel, with shiny stone floors and plush couches and chairs. A doorman greeted them from behind a tall desk. “Can I help you?”

“Yes,” said Anton. He pulled out his wallet and showed his license. “Anton Beaudine. I’m renting number 522. I was told you’d have a set of keys for me.”

“Of course,” said the man, pulling an envelope from below the desk. “Welcome to the building, Mr. Beaudine. Please let me know if you need anything.”

Anton handed him a bill and took the envelope. “Thank you.”

The elevators needed a key. Anton fished in the envelope and pulled out a key ring. There was a little gold key that matched the finish on the elevator doors.

Inside, Emily jumped as the shiny doors slid closed, putting her face to face with her reflection. She dropped her gaze to her shoes for rest of the ride.

The apartment itself was just as elegant and plush as the rest of the building. It was all white walls and open spaces. The living room had a white leather couch facing a fireplace with a flat screen mounted above it. Past the couch was a wall of windows overlooking the city. Opposite it was the kitchen area with shiny new appliances and granite countertops. A bowl of fruit had been set out on the island separating the living room from the kitchen.

“This will be your room,” said Anton, opening a door to the left of the fireplace. “And mine is just next door,” he said striding pointing past the fireplace to a door on the right of it. He pulled his cellphone out. “You’ve your own bathroom. Why don’t you go and get cleaned up while I see about getting us something to eat?”

Emily’s stomach rumbled its agreement to that plan. She hurried into her bedroom, pulling the door shut behind her. The room wasn’t cavernous, but it seemed huge compared to the cramped one she’d been sharing with the other girls back at her foster home. There was a wide, tall bed with a shiny black comforter and a mountain of pillows. To one side of it sat a little desk with a rolling chair and a lamp. To the other was a dresser and set of sliding doors leading into a spacious closet.

She dumped the contents of her backpack onto her bed. She shoved the blanket and various canned goods she’d pilfered from her ex-foster parents into one of the many empty drawers in the dresser. She put the few blouses and skirts and underthings in a separate drawer, choosing a clean set for the day.

She took her bundle of clean clothes and headed for the door to the bathroom, across from the bed. It was a long, skinny rectangle with a white and black countertop stretching along one wall. The counter had a sink set in one end and then it dropped down a foot to make a little vanity area with pull out drawers and a little backless chair to sit on. The entire wall behind the counter was one long mirror. Opposite the counter was a toilet and a long shower/tub with semi-transparent glass walls and the same black and white stone facing as the counter.

Emily set the water running for a bath and forced herself to face the mirror as she unbuttoned her blouse. It’s just my reflection, she told herself. Just me. No one else here.

But all of the sudden there she was, appearing behind Emily in the mirror. Em whirled and flattened herself against the counter.

Her dead twin glared at her. “You have to get out of here! He’s planning something. Tonight!”

Emily clapped her hands over her ears and squeezed her eyes shut. “You’re not real.”

She felt a breeze at her side and knew Evie was there, but didn’t dare open her eyes.

“He’s on the phone, right now, plotting it,” Evie hissed. “Go listen for yourself if you don’t believe me!”

The cold receded and Emily opened her eyes. Evie was waiting by the door, arms crossed.

Emily took a few timid steps forward, and Evelyn stepped out into the bedroom, again waiting for her living twin to follow. Emily crossed the bedroom slowly, re-buttoning her shirt as she did.

“He’s in his room,” Evelyn told her.

Emily peeked out into the main room of the apartment and saw that it was, indeed, empty. She slid out of the half open door and crept across the room to the door to Anton’s bedroom. Gingerly, Emily put her ear against the door. She shuddered as she felt Evelyn lean over her, as if listening as well.

“—were happy to hand her off to me,” Anton was saying. He paused for a moment, then said, “Mmm, yes. I played the benevolent uncle. She’s eating out of my hand.” He chuckled. “Which is good. It’ll make it easier to drug her.”

Emily straightened and glanced back at Evelyn, who had a look of triumph on her face. Heart hammering in her chest, Emily put her ear to the door again.

“No,” she heard Anton say. “She’s a frail little thing, but it’s better safe than sorry. There’ll be too many questions if I suddenly announce we’re flying to Illinois tomorrow morning, and I don’t want to have to hurt her. Not yet.”

He paused and when he spoke again, he was so close to the door that Emily nearly fell back. “Just worry about things on your end,” he said. “I want to have her strapped down before the sedative wears off.” Another pause. “Good, good. And the dagger? Will it be ready in time?”

“Em!” Evie hissed swatting an icy hand through her living twin’s arm. “He’s coming! Go now! Run!”

Emily jumped back from the door and darted across the room. A moment later, the handle to Anton’s door began to turn. Evie disappeared and Em cast around helplessly. There was no way she could get out the door and to the elevators before he ran her down. Better to play innocent until she could sneak away unnoticed.

She grabbed a banana from the bowl of fruit on the counter. She leaned against the island and began idly unpeeling it as Anton strode into the room. He stopped short as he caught sight of her.

“Emily,” he said, stashing the phone in his jacket. “I thought you were having a bath.”

Em forced a smile and held up the banana.

“Hungry?” asked Anton.

She nodded.

“Well, don’t ruin your dinner, I’ve ordered pizza.” He paused and frowned. “Is that water I hear running?”

Emily straightened in genuine surprise. She’d left her bath going. She winced and darted back into her bedroom, shutting the door behind her. She noticed for the first time that it didn’t lock. Not from her side, anyway.

She retreated to the bathroom, shutting off the tap just before the water began to pool over the sides. She dunked her head under so that it would look like she’d bathed and then set the tub draining again. She pulled on her clean clothes as she waited for Evie to reappear.

After nearly twenty minutes, Em gave up and went back out into her bedroom. She repacked her backpack, making sure to include her new little computer, and then shoved it under the bed so Anton wouldn’t spot it if he came in.

As an afterthought, she dug out one of her cans of ravioli and the can opener. She had to shove them under the bed as Anton rapped on the door and peeked in. “Pizza’s here. Hope you’re hungry.”

Em looked around for Evie, but her twin was nowhere to be seen. Reluctantly, she followed Anton out into the main room. He’d set out two plates at the kitchen island. Emily forced a smile and climbed up into one of the high chairs that lined the island.

“I wasn’t sure what you liked,” said Anton, flipping back the lids of the two pizza boxes, “so I got one vegetarian’s special and one pepperoni.” He tipped both up for her to see. “Choose your poison.”

Emily blanched. He must plan to eat, too. So his pizza couldn’t be drugged. But she wouldn’t know which was his until he took some. She pointed from box to box, then held up two of her fingers.

“One of each?” asked Anton.

Emily nodded.

“Where’s your computer?” Anton asked as he put two slices on her plate.

Emily pointed to her bedroom.

“Well, go and get it,” laughed Anton. “It’ll be hard to carry on a conversation in hand gestures.”

“Oh,” Emily muttered. He’d figured out a way to get her out of the room. And leave him alone with her food long enough to do whatever he wanted to it.

Reluctantly, she slid down from her chair and headed for her bedroom. She dug the computer back out of her bag and stared at it. What was she going to do? How could she get out of eating her food without arousing his suspicions?
“Don’t tell me you’ve managed to lose it, already?” Anton called.

Emily shoved her bag back under the bed and went back out into the main room. She smiled and held up the computer.

“Ah,” said Anton. “Good.” He had pizza on his plate already. All pepperoni. “Dig in,” he said, picking up a slice.

Emily eyed her own plate. She opened her computer and typed, Feeling sick.

“You are?” asked Anton, frowning. “I thought you were starving a little while ago.”

Emily shrugged.

The briefest hint of a scowl passed over Anton’s face but then it was gone, a kind smile in its place. “Well,” he said, patting her hand. “It’s been an exciting day. Perhaps you’re just overly tired.”

He slid a glass of reddish liquid over to her. “At least have some juice. You need to keep your strength up.”

“Crap,” Emily muttered, looking from his beer bottle to her glass. He hadn’t drugged her food at all; it was the juice.

Emily wrinkled her nose and shook her head. No thanks, she typed. Just water. She took the cup and dumped it down the sink, then filled it with water. She had no intention of drinking it, but she took it with her anyway, back toward her room.

“All right,” said Anton. “Get some rest, dear. I’m sure you’ll feel better in the morning.”

“Evie!” Em hissed as soon as her door was shut.

Her dead twin appeared across the room, by the window. “You’re running out of time,” said Evelyn. “You’ve got to kill yourself now, before he gets to you.” She raised a translucent arm to point out the window. “Jump.”

“No,” Emily cried, flattening herself against the door.

“Do it, now!” Evie exclaimed. “There’s no time!”

“No!” Emily screamed.

“Look out!” Evie winked out of sight.

Emily whirled, but too late. Anton yanked the door open and clamped his hands around her wrists.

“You couldn’t do it the easy way, could you?” he snarled, forcing her back until she was pinned against the bed, trapped under his weight.

He pinned her hands above her head with one hand while he drew a flask out of his jacket pocket with the other. Emily fought, but he was too heavy and she was weak from hunger and lack of sleep.

He let her hands go for a moment to unscrew the lid of the flask. Emily shrieked and clawed at him, trying to grab the flask from him, tip out the contents, but he was too strong. He clamped a hand under her chin, squeezing until her mouth was forced open.

Even using both her hands, she couldn’t stop him from lowering the flask to her lips. “Good thing you’re mute,” he said. “Wouldn’t want you screaming your lungs out and disturbing our neighbors.”

As the first drops of bitter liquid passed her lips, she switched tactics. “You scream,” she said, reaching out to claw at his eyes. He roared in pain and Emily managed to knock the flask from his hands. But she just couldn’t manage to wrench free.

Anton grabbed her by the neck and pinned her to the bed with one hand as he groped for the flask with the other.

Emily couldn’t help but keep both hands fastened around the arm that was cutting off her oxygen. “Evie,” she croaked as her vision began to fade. “Help me.”

But her sister didn’t appear.

“Drink,” Anton snarled, putting the flask to her lips. He relaxed his grip on her neck and Emily couldn’t help but gasp for air. He took the opportunity to tip what was left of the liquid into her mouth. He clamped a hand over Em’s mouth as she began to cough. “No, you don’t. Swallow it down. Swallow!”

She did. She couldn’t help it.

When she had, Anton took his hand away and let her breathe again. With every breath, the world seemed to get more blurry and unsteady.

“Good,” said Anton from far away. “That’s it, go to sleep now.”

The weight pinning her down disappeared and someone lifted her legs all the way onto the bed.

Emily blinked, trying to clear her vision. She tried to shake her head, but it just lolled to one side. “Now, now.” Fingers reached out and pushed her eyelids closed. “Don’t fight it.”

She tried to open her eyes again, but they were just too heavy.

She lay in darkness, struggling desperately not to be swallowed by it.

Suddenly a face swam into view through the black. It was Anton. He was on his phone again, looking annoyed. “Not quite,” he was saying, “but she’s out for the moment. I’ll need some more. She didn’t exactly get a full dose.”

Her view shifted away from him and went out through a wall. A door came into view. It had a chair wedged under the handle. She saw hands reach out and grip it.

Suddenly fire exploded in her chest and the vision disappeared. Emily tried to scream, but only managed a moan. But the pain had been enough to force her eyes open. She stared at the blurry white expanse of the ceiling until Evelyn appeared above her, oddly in focus.

“Get up,” she hissed. “Get up now, Emmy, we haven’t got long.”

Emily tried to lift her head, but it was too heavy and it made the room sway.

“Get up!” Evelyn begged, shooting a glance over shoulder. “I unlocked the door, but you’ve got to hurry.”

“Can’t,” Emily moaned.

Evelyn swiped a hand through Emily’s face, sending a shock of cold through her. Emily gasped and her vision cleared a bit. She managed to push herself up onto her elbows. The room was still blurry and tipping back and forth, but she could make out the door well enough. Em tipped herself off the bed, landing on her hands and knees on the plush carpet.

Evelyn was there, crouched next to her. She wrapped a cold, not-there hand around Emily’s arm, making her shiver again. “Come on, Emmy,” she begged.

Slowly, Emily sat up on her knees. Then, bracing on the bed, she managed to get unsteadily to her feet. Her head cleared a bit with each movement, but she still swayed as she stepped away from the bed.

She put both hands out and managed to totter over to the closet. Then she felt her way around the corner and to the door. She groped for the handle and got it to turn.

Evelyn appeared in the main room as Emily shoved the door open and gripped the doorframe. “You can do it, Emmy,” she said, glancing worriedly at Anton’s door. “Hurry! You can make it.”

Emily tottered her way over to the couch and then across to the kitchen island, still covered in pizza and plates.

Evelyn appeared at the front door, holding out her arms. “Come on,” she urged. “Just one more big push.”

Emily reached her hands out for her sister. She took two big steps, but she’d forgotten that Evelyn couldn’t catch her. Em’s legs gave out and she fell to her knees in front of the door.

Evelyn knelt next to her. “Come on, Emmy.” She glanced over her shoulder. “You have to do it! Now!”

Emily gripped the handle in both hands and turned it. She toppled out into the hallway with a moan.

“You did it!” Evelyn said, appearing above her. “Now, close the door and get up.”

Emily dragged her legs over the threshold and kicked the door shut again. Then she rolled onto her hands and knees. She crawled to the wall, then clawed her way back to her feet.

“No,” said Evelyn, as Em started toward the gold blur of the elevator doors. “Not that way.”

She pointed in the opposite direction to a pair of shiny, wide steel doors set in the opposite end of the hallway. They were closer, whatever they were, so Emily lumbered in the direction her dead twin had indicated.

After what seemed like an eternity, Emily stumbled against the cool metal of the doors. It was another elevator. She groped for the down button on the little control pad, but it wasn’t a button at all. It was a key hole.

“What now?” she moaned, dropping to her knees again.

“Wait here.” Evelyn stepped through the silver doors.

The realization that her dead sister still wanted to kill her clawed its way up through Emily’s murky mind. This could easily be a trap. Maybe she’d open the doors to the empty shaft and Emily would fall right in.

She pushed away from the doors with a hopeless sob. A thud from down the hall, drew her attention. She looked back to see a dark form emerging from a door. She couldn’t make out who it was, but she could guess. She tried to get to her knees, but the fiery pain in her chest flared up again and even her arms gave out.

“Emmy, get in!” Evie cried from behind her.

Emily glanced back to see that the elevator was open and her sister was inside, holding an entreating arm out.

Em dragged herself across the threshold and into the elevator.

“The button!” said Evie, pointing to the bottommost of the countless circles on the control pad to the side of the doors. “Press this one. Hurry, he’s coming!”

Emily stabbed the button and got an answering ding from above. A few moments later, the doors slid shut. She heard a frustrated roar and a thump from the other side.

Evelyn sighed and sank down next to Emmy. “We did it.”

“He’ll follow us,” said Emily.

Evie shook her head. “It’s a freight elevator. It goes to the basement. The other one doesn’t. He’ll have to take the stairs.”

“I’m too tired,” Em sobbed. “I can’t get up anymore. I can’t run.”

“You have to,” Evelyn told her. “Just a bit farther. Someone’s here to get you. We just have to make it to the parking lot.”

“Who?” Emily whispered.

“I don’t know,” said Evie. “I can only see him in the distance.”

The ride seemed to take forever. Emily tried to keep her eyes open, but it got harder and harder as time passed and her pounding heart circulated the sedative. Somewhere along the way, her eyes fell closed again.

Emily heard a faraway ding and then the rumble of the doors opening, but couldn’t seem to will herself to move. After a moment, she heard another ding and what she knew must be the doors closing again.

“No!” she heard a faraway voice exclaim.

A shock of cold ran through her, but it wasn’t enough to cut through the stupor.

Then came another burst of fire from her chest. Em groaned and stirred, her eyes falling open. She saw the doors slide open a second time to reveal a dark, cement room. Evie appeared, glowing eerily in the gloom.

“Get out!” she exclaimed. “I can’t do that again. I haven’t got the strength.”

There was another ding and the doors began to slide shut. Emily stuck her hand out and they retreated again. Then she pulled herself forward, inch by inch until she was laying on cold concrete.

“Come on,” said Evie, crouching next to her. “It’s not far now.” She turned and pointed into the gloom. “Just out that door and you’re in the parking lot. See the door?”

Emily blinked her vision clear and could just make out a rectangle with a dim halo of light around it. She nodded. “I see it.”

“Get to it. Get outside. You can do it, Emmy.” And then Evie disappeared, leaving Emily in total darkness.

Grunting, Emily rolled onto her hands and knees. She didn’t think she had the strength to walk, so she crawled. The door wasn’t far, but it was slow going. Finally, she reached it. She gripped the handle in both hands and used it to drag herself onto her feet. She twisted and used her weight to push it open, stumbling out into the muggy summer night .

She stared around the parking lot, but all she could make out was darkness with a few blobs of light from the street lamps. Evie had lied. There was no one. She dropped to her knees again, gravel grinding into her bare hands and shins.

Suddenly an engine roared to life. She winced as a truck neared, pinning her in its headlights. It pulled alongside her and the passenger door swung open.

“Get in,” said a gruff voice.

Emily shook her head. She didn’t know this man. He could be anybody. It could be a trick.

“I’m here to help you, honey,” said the man, “but you gotta get in.”

What choice did she have? Em reached for the door and dragged herself up and into the truck. She heaved the door closed again and they rumbled off.

“You okay?” she heard the man ask as she slumped over onto the dashboard. But she couldn’t find the strength to form an answer.

So, there you go. From there things really take off. Speaking of, here’s my progress for today:

So, I’m on chapter 4 now and on track to hit 25,000 words tomorrow. This’ll probably be the last excerpt I put up, but I feel like it’s where the action really kicks off, so I wanted to share. Again, it’s in no way the finished, polished version.

Terra woke her the next morning.

“I can’t believe you ran away and got caught already and I slept through it,” she said, shaking her head. “Barb says you’re getting moved. You gotta get ready. Your case worker’ll be here soon.”

Emily looked down at herself. Until someone took her to get her things from the cemetery, she was wearing her only set of clothes. She stood and pushed her cot away so Terra could get to the closet.

“They throwing you in the loony bin?” the younger girl asked as she pulled out her clothes.

Emily nodded.

“Dang,” said Terra.

“Yeah,” Em agreed.

“You got your stuff? You all packed up?”

Emily shrugged. “What’s it matter?”

She didn’t get to eat, of course. Her last meal had been Terra’s peace offering at lunch. No one had been able to sneak any dinner out under Barb and Emmet’s watchful eyes. And there wouldn’t be time to slip her anything before Mrs. Hendricks came to get her.

Still, Em stood at the table with the rest of the girls, sipping her milk and watching the others eat their cereal. A honk sounded out front, making Barb jump. “That’ll be your case worker, Emily.”

Emily stood frozen for a moment, wondering if she ought to say goodbye to the others, to Barb and Emmet. But Emmet stayed at the table, reading his morning paper and Barb stayed where she was at the sink, washing dishes.

“Well,” said Emily. “I guess I’ll be going, then.”

Terra blocked her path as she moved around the counter. The younger girl rolled her eyes and held her arms out. “Don’t cry or anything, okay?”

Emily smiled and stooped to hug her. “Thank you,” she whispered, wishing desperately for her pad and pencil.

“Maybe you’ll get a good place,” Terra muttered. “Maybe it won’t be so bad. You just gotta make it till you’re eighteen. Then you’re free.”

Emily stepped back and nodded. “Take care of yourself.”

Mrs. Hendricks honked again as Emily emerged onto the porch. But Emily wasn’t in any mood to hurry. She looked back at the house one last time, saying goodbye to the cramped, rundown place that had been her sanctuary.

Mrs. Hendricks didn’t say anything as Emily buckled herself in, just sped off on the all-too-familiar route to the social services office. She paused a moment as they parked in front of the building, regarding Emily like she wanted to say something. Em kept her gaze straight ahead and finally Mrs. Hendricks sighed and shoved her door open. “Come on, we’re late.”

Mrs. Hendricks stopped short as they entered the building, making Emily stumble as she tried to avoid running into her social worker. Emily stepped around the woman and saw an older black man motion Mrs. Hendricks over.

“Wait here, Emma,” she said, frowning.

Em slumped into a nearby metal folding chair, watching the pair as they talked. Mrs. Hendricks shot a look over her shoulder at Emily, then said something to the man.

“Emily?” A new, male voice from her right made her jump. A man in his mid forties stood at the little folding table by the door that held coffee and Styrofoam cups. He had jet black hair that was graying at the temples and silver eyes. He was wearing a black suit. It looked new and starkly out of place in a room full of social workers dressed in worn, ill fitting brown and blue suits. Was he a doctor from the facility they were sending her to?

He smiled and set aside his cup of coffee, coming over to squat in front of Emily. “It is you, isn’t it?” he said, putting a hand over Emily’s where they were folded in her lap. “You look just like your mother.”

She yanked away from him in surprise and the man sat back, holding up his hands. “I’m sorry. Of course you don’t remember me. I should’ve—” He shook his head. “My name is Anton Beaudine. I’m a friend of your father’s. We grew up together. We were like brothers. Did he never speak of me?”

Emily shook her head.

“Oh, here. They told me you couldn’t speak.” He pulled something out of his inside pocket and handed it to her.

It was a little black computer. Like those PDAs that businessmen used to use before Blackberries were invented. It folded open to reveal a keyboard and a little screen.

“Go ahead, try it. You type and it’ll read your words aloud.”

Emily shrugged. Hi, she typed. The computer read it back in a neutral, female voice.

Anton smiled. “Hello.”

Mrs. Hendricks returned and Anton stood. “Follow me, please,” she said to them.

She led them back to the glass walled room where the man who had been talking to Mrs. Hendricks was waiting. “Thank you, Harriet, I’ll take it from here.”

Mrs. Hendricks caught Emily’s arm as she passed. “You are incredibly lucky,” she murmured. “Don’t forget it.”

“Have a seat,” said the new man. “I’m Philip Barker, senior caseworker here.”

Anton motioned for Emily to sit, then took the seat next to hers.

“Now,” said Mr. Barker, flipping open a file in front of him. “Mr. Beaudine, you’re a friend of the family?”

“As I was explaining to Emily,” said Anton, “I knew Tom Richards when we were children. We moved to opposite ends of the country for college and fell out of touch for the most part.” He looked to Emily with a fond smile. “He sent me a picture years ago of your mother holding you and your sister on the day you were born.”

Emily nodded. That same picture hung on the wall by their front door. Or used to. She supposed it had been thrown out by now.

“I recently moved back into the area,” said Anton, turning back to Mr. Barker, “and I went to look up my old friend.” He shook his head. “I couldn’t believe it when I heard the news. I searched for Emily,” he patted Em’s hand, “just to pay my respects, never imagining that there was no one to take her in. When I heard that she was a ward of the state, I simply had to step in.”

Emily looked to the man in surprise. He couldn’t really be saying what she thought he was, could he? He hadn’t even seen her father in decades. He couldn’t really mean to take her in.

Anton gripped her hand in his. “Yes, Emily, I want you to come and live with me—If you’d like to, of course. It’s the least I could do for your father.”

Mr. Barker cleared his throat. “I’m afraid it’s a bit more complicated than that. Since you aren’t related to Ms. Richards and the late Mr. and Mrs. Richards never explicitly named you as a guardian for their daughter, the state requires that you be screened and evaluated to ensure that you can provide a safe, nurturing environment for Ms. Richards.” He looked down at the file in front of him again. “Given that you live across state lines, it would be difficult to get a court to agree to even a temporary placement.”

Anton nodded. “Yes, my lawyer advised me of that. I’ve already rented a temporary residence within the city. I’ll stay there with Emily for the moment.”

“Hmm.” Mr. Barker rocked back in his chair. “Well, in that case, I don’t see why we can’t get you an order of temporary custody today. I’ll also put the paperwork through for an emergency hearing to get you permanent custody.”

Anton smiled and rose, reaching across the table to shake the older man’s hand. “Thank you, Mr. Barker. I can’t tell you what this means to me.”

Emily flipped open her little computer. Me too, she typed. Thank you!

Anton smiled down at her and clapped her on the shoulder. “Are you ready to go? Do you need to say any goodbyes?”

Emily shook her head and stood. Ready to go, she typed.

Anton motioned for her to precede him out the door. Back in the main office, Anton paused and looked around. “Where’s your social worker? Hasn’t she got your things for you?”

Emily unfolded her computer, infinitely thankful for the little gadget. In storage, she wrote. Had a backpack, but the cops wouldn’t let me go get it when they found me.

Anton frowned. “The police?”

Ran away, she explained. She paused, debating whether or not to mention the looming psycho ward, but decided against it. Wanted to visit my family’s grave. No one would take me.

“That’s terrible,” said Anton. “I don’t blame you for taking matters into your own hands.” He put an arm around her. “Come along, that’ll be our next stop.”

Outside, her new guardian led her over to a shiny black town car. He held the door open for her, then waited until Emily was situated, and shut it again.

Anton got into the driver’s seat. “Oh,” he said, looking over to where Emily was gripping her seatbelt in both hands. “Forgive me, I’d forgotten. Would you feel safer in the backseat?”

Backseat’s worse, Emily typed. Please don’t speed.

Anton nodded gravely. “Of course. You let me know if I’m going too fast,” he said as they pulled out.

He didn’t go too fast. He stayed exactly to the speed limit, even shooting Emily a questioning glance as they sped up to forty five for part of the way. Em gave him a brave smile in return. It wasn’t like driving with Mrs. Hendricks, at all. She trusted him.

When they reached the cemetery, Anton made no move to get out. “Would you mind if I joined you in a moment?” he asked, reaching into his jacket. “I need to make a quick call.”

Emily nodded and resisted the urge to shoot a nervous glance in the direction she knew Evie’s grave was.

She made her way slowly through the graves. Under a cheerful summer sky, what she’d seen the night before seemed ludicrous. “What’s makes more sense?” she muttered to herself as she neared her family’s graves. “That you saw Evie’s ghost telling you to kill yourself or that you had a really convincing dream?”

Still, she shot a wary look around before stooping to retrieve the backpack that lay across Evie’s grave. She shook the blanket off and shoved it inside, jumping to her feet again.

She shrieked and fell back as she came face to face with her translucent twin.

“You can’t trust that man,” said Evelyn, walking through her own headstone to crouch in front of Emily. “He’s lying about everything. He never knew Dad and he wants to hurt us. Both of us.”

Emily slapped her hands over her ears. “You’re not real,” she sobbed. “Go away!”

“Listen to me!” Evie snapped, trying to claw Em’s hands away from her ears. “He’s on his phone right now. He knows about me. He’s planning something. Something bad.”

“What do you care?” Emily snapped. “You’re already dead. And you want me dead, too.”

Evie shook her head. “Not like that. If he does it, neither of us will be free.” She gasped and suddenly vanished like smoke dissipating.

Emily looked around and saw Anton hurrying toward her. “Poor thing,” he said, dropping to one knee next to Em and wrapping his arms around her. “There now, let it out.”

And Emily did cry, wrapping her arms around his neck and sobbing into his shoulder. But she didn’t cry for her family. No, this time it was fear. Fear that she really was crazy. Or that she wasn’t and her dead sister really was haunting her.

But she’d disappeared when Anton got near, Emily realized. Whatever she was, Anton could keep her away.

She pulled away and climbed to her feet, clutching her backpack against her chest and staring one last time at the three headstones. Anton stayed kneeling. “Did you do this?” he asked, tracing the clumsily carved inscription she’d made on each.

Emily nodded.

“Poor thing,” he said again, standing. “I’ll tell you what, when all of this is finally settled, we’ll get them new headstones. Ones that are more fitting. How does that sound?”

Emily smiled and nodded.

“Shall we go?”

Emily nodded again. She couldn’t help shooting one last glance over her shoulder as Anton ushered her back to the car. No sign of Evie.

***

The apartment wasn’t at all what Emily was expecting. After the social services office and Barb and Emmet’s house, her imagination was sort of stuck on run down and cramped. The apartment Anton had found them was neither.

It was in what looked like a brand new apartment complex at the edge of town. It towered over the buildings around it, its new brick and shiny steel trim gleaming.

The lobby of the building looked like it belonged in a posh hotel, with shiny stone floors and plush couches and chairs. A doorman greeted them from behind a tall desk. “Can I help you?”

“Yes,” said Anton. He pulled out his wallet and showed his license. “Anton Beaudine. I’m renting number 522. I was told you’d have a set of keys for me.”

“Of course,” said the man, pulling an envelope from below the desk. “Welcome to the building, Mr. Beaudine. Please let me know if you need anything.”

Anton handed him a bill and took the envelope. “Thank you.”

The elevators needed a key. Anton fished in the envelope and pulled out a key ring. There was a little gold key that matched the finish on the elevator doors.

Inside, Emily jumped as the shiny doors slid closed, putting her face to face with her reflection. She dropped her gaze to her shoes for rest of the ride.

The apartment itself was just as elegant and plush as the rest of the building. It was all white walls and open spaces. The living room had a white leather couch facing a fireplace with a flat screen mounted above it. Past the couch was a wall of windows overlooking the city. Opposite it was the kitchen area with shiny new appliances and granite countertops. A bowl of fruit had been set out on the island separating the living room from the kitchen.

“This will be your room,” said Anton, opening a door to the left of the fireplace. “And mine is just next door,” he said striding pointing past the fireplace to a door on the right of it. He pulled his cellphone out. “You’ve your own bathroom. Why don’t you go and get cleaned up while I see about getting us something to eat?”

Emily’s stomach rumbled its agreement to that plan. She hurried into her bedroom, pulling the door shut behind her. The room wasn’t cavernous, but it seemed huge compared to the cramped one she’d been sharing with the other girls back at her foster home. There was a wide, tall bed with a shiny black comforter and a mountain of pillows. To one side of it sat a little desk with a rolling chair and a lamp. To the other was a dresser and set of sliding doors leading into a spacious closet.

She dumped the contents of her backpack onto her bed. She shoved the blanket and various canned goods she’d pilfered from her ex-foster parents into one of the many empty drawers in the dresser. She put the few blouses and skirts and underthings in a separate drawer, choosing a clean set for the day.

She took her bundle of clean clothes and headed for the door to the bathroom, across from the bed. It was a long, skinny rectangle with a white and black countertop stretching along one wall. The counter had a sink set in one end and then it dropped down a foot to make a little vanity area with pull out drawers and a little backless chair to sit on. The entire wall behind the counter was one long mirror. Opposite the counter was a toilet and a long shower/tub with semi-transparent glass walls and the same black and white stone facing as the counter.

Emily set the water running for a bath and forced herself to face the mirror as she unbuttoned her blouse. It’s just my reflection, she told herself. Just me. No one else here.

But all of the sudden there she was, appearing behind Emily in the mirror. Em whirled and flattened herself against the counter.

Her dead twin glared at her. “You have to get out of here! He’s planning something. Tonight!”

Emily clapped her hands over her ears and squeezed her eyes shut. “You’re not real.”

She felt a breeze at her side and knew Evie was there, but didn’t dare open her eyes.

“He’s on the phone, right now, plotting it,” Evie hissed. “Go listen for yourself if you don’t believe me!”

The cold receded and Emily opened her eyes. Evie was waiting by the door, arms crossed.

Emily took a few timid steps forward, and Evelyn stepped out into the bedroom, again waiting for her living twin to follow. Emily crossed the bedroom slowly, re-buttoning her shirt as she did.

“He’s in his room,” Evelyn told her.

Emily peeked out into the main room of the apartment and saw that it was, indeed, empty. She slid out of the half open door and crept across the room to the door to Anton’s bedroom. Gingerly, Emily put her ear against the door. She shuddered as she felt Evelyn lean over her, as if listening as well.

“—were happy to hand her off to me,” Anton was saying. He paused for a moment, then said, “Mmm, yes. I played the benevolent uncle. She’s eating out of my hand.” He chuckled. “Which is good. It’ll make it easier to drug her.”

Emily straightened and glanced back at Evelyn, who had a look of triumph on her face. Heart hammering in her chest, Emily put her ear to the door again.

“No,” she heard Anton say. “She’s a frail little thing, but it’s better safe than sorry. There’ll be too many questions if I suddenly announce we’re flying to Illinois tomorrow morning, and I don’t want to have to hurt her. Not yet.”

He paused and when he spoke again, he was so close to the door that Emily nearly fell back. “Just worry about things on your end,” he said. “I want to have her strapped down before the sedative wears off.” Another pause. “Good, good. And the dagger? Will it be ready in time?”

“Em!” Evie hissed swatting an icy hand through her living twin’s arm. “He’s coming! Go now! Run!”

Emily jumped back from the door and darted across the room. A moment later, the handle to Anton’s door began to turn. Evie disappeared and Em cast around helplessly. There was no way she could get out the door and to the elevators before he ran her down. Better to play innocent until she could sneak away unnoticed.

She grabbed a banana from the bowl of fruit on the counter. She leaned against the island and began idly unpeeling it as Anton strode into the room. He stopped short as he caught sight of her.

“Emily,” he said, stashing the phone in his jacket. “I thought you were having a bath.”

Em forced a smile and held up the banana.

“Hungry?” asked Anton.

She nodded.

“Well, don’t ruin your dinner, I’ve ordered pizza.” He paused and frowned. “Is that water I hear running?”

Emily straightened in genuine surprise. She’d left her bath going. She winced and darted back into her bedroom, shutting the door behind her. She noticed for the first time that it didn’t lock. Not from her side, anyway.

She retreated to the bathroom, shutting off the tap just before the water began to pool over the sides. She dunked her head under so that it would look like she’d bathed and then set the tub draining again. She pulled on her clean clothes as she waited for Evie to reappear.

After nearly twenty minutes, Em gave up and went back out into her bedroom. She repacked her backpack, making sure to include her new little computer, and then shoved it under the bed so Anton wouldn’t spot it if he came in.

As an afterthought, she dug out one of her cans of ravioli and the can opener. She had to shove them under the bed as Anton rapped on the door and peeked in. “Pizza’s here. Hope you’re hungry.”

Em looked around for Evie, but her twin was nowhere to be seen. Reluctantly, she followed Anton out into the main room. He’d set out two plates at the kitchen island. Emily forced a smile and climbed up into one of the high chairs that lined the island.

“I wasn’t sure what you liked,” said Anton, flipping back the lids of the two pizza boxes, “so I got one vegetarian’s special and one pepperoni.” He tipped both up for her to see. “Choose your poison.”

Emily blanched. He must plan to eat, too. So his pizza couldn’t be drugged. But she wouldn’t know which was his until he took some. She pointed from box to box, then held up two of her fingers.

“One of each?” asked Anton.

Emily nodded.

“Where’s your computer?” Anton asked as he put two slices on her plate.

Emily pointed to her bedroom.

“Well, go and get it,” laughed Anton. “It’ll be hard to carry on a conversation in hand gestures.”

“Oh,” Emily muttered. He’d figured out a way to get her out of the room. And leave him alone with her food long enough to do whatever he wanted to it.

Reluctantly, she slid down from her chair and headed for her bedroom. She dug the computer back out of her bag and stared at it. What was she going to do? How could she get out of eating her food without arousing his suspicions?
“Don’t tell me you’ve managed to lose it, already?” Anton called.

Emily shoved her bag back under the bed and went back out into the main room. She smiled and held up the computer.

“Ah,” said Anton. “Good.” He had pizza on his plate already. All pepperoni. “Dig in,” he said, picking up a slice.

Emily eyed her own plate. She opened her computer and typed, Feeling sick.

“You are?” asked Anton, frowning. “I thought you were starving a little while ago.”

Emily shrugged.

The briefest hint of a scowl passed over Anton’s face but then it was gone, a kind smile in its place. “Well,” he said, patting her hand. “It’s been an exciting day. Perhaps you’re just overly tired.”

He slid a glass of reddish liquid over to her. “At least have some juice. You need to keep your strength up.”

“Crap,” Emily muttered, looking from his beer bottle to her glass. He hadn’t drugged her food at all; it was the juice.

Emily wrinkled her nose and shook her head. No thanks, she typed. Just water. She took the cup and dumped it down the sink, then filled it with water. She had no intention of drinking it, but she took it with her anyway, back toward her room.

“All right,” said Anton. “Get some rest, dear. I’m sure you’ll feel better in the morning.”

“Evie!” Em hissed as soon as her door was shut.

Her dead twin appeared across the room, by the window. “You’re running out of time,” said Evelyn. “You’ve got to kill yourself now, before he gets to you.” She raised a translucent arm to point out the window. “Jump.”

“No,” Emily cried, flattening herself against the door.

“Do it, now!” Evie exclaimed. “There’s no time!”

“No!” Emily screamed.

“Look out!” Evie winked out of sight.

Emily whirled, but too late. Anton yanked the door open and clamped his hands around her wrists.

“You couldn’t do it the easy way, could you?” he snarled, forcing her back until she was pinned against the bed, trapped under his weight.

He pinned her hands above her head with one hand while he drew a flask out of his jacket pocket with the other. Emily fought, but he was too heavy and she was weak from hunger and lack of sleep.

He let her hands go for a moment to unscrew the lid of the flask. Emily shrieked and clawed at him, trying to grab the flask from him, tip out the contents, but he was too strong. He clamped a hand under her chin, squeezing until her mouth was forced open.

Even using both her hands, she couldn’t stop him from lowering the flask to her lips. “Good thing you’re mute,” he said. “Wouldn’t want you screaming your lungs out and disturbing our neighbors.”

As the first drops of bitter liquid passed her lips, she switched tactics. “You scream,” she said, reaching out to claw at his eyes. He roared in pain and Emily managed to knock the flask from his hands. But she just couldn’t manage to wrench free.

Anton grabbed her by the neck and pinned her to the bed with one hand as he groped for the flask with the other.

Emily couldn’t help but keep both hands fastened around the arm that was cutting off her oxygen. “Evie,” she croaked as her vision began to fade. “Help me.”

But her sister didn’t appear.

“Drink,” Anton snarled, putting the flask to her lips. He relaxed his grip on her neck and Emily couldn’t help but gasp for air. He took the opportunity to tip what was left of the liquid into her mouth. He clamped a hand over Em’s mouth as she began to cough. “No, you don’t. Swallow it down. Swallow!”

She did. She couldn’t help it.

When she had, Anton took his hand away and let her breathe again. With every breath, the world seemed to get more blurry and unsteady.

“Good,” said Anton from far away. “That’s it, go to sleep now.”

The weight pinning her down disappeared and someone lifted her legs all the way onto the bed.

Emily blinked, trying to clear her vision. She tried to shake her head, but it just lolled to one side. “Now, now.” Fingers reached out and pushed her eyelids closed. “Don’t fight it.”

She tried to open her eyes again, but they were just too heavy.

She lay in darkness, struggling desperately not to be swallowed by it.

Suddenly a face swam into view through the black. It was Anton. He was on his phone again, looking annoyed. “Not quite,” he was saying, “but she’s out for the moment. I’ll need some more. She didn’t exactly get a full dose.”

Her view shifted away from him and went out through a wall. A door came into view. It had a chair wedged under the handle. She saw hands reach out and grip it.

Suddenly fire exploded in her chest and the vision disappeared. Emily tried to scream, but only managed a moan. But the pain had been enough to force her eyes open. She stared at the blurry white expanse of the ceiling until Evelyn appeared above her, oddly in focus.

“Get up,” she hissed. “Get up now, Emmy, we haven’t got long.”

Emily tried to lift her head, but it was too heavy and it made the room sway.

“Get up!” Evelyn begged, shooting a glance over shoulder. “I unlocked the door, but you’ve got to hurry.”

“Can’t,” Emily moaned.

Evelyn swiped a hand through Emily’s face, sending a shock of cold through her. Emily gasped and her vision cleared a bit. She managed to push herself up onto her elbows. The room was still blurry and tipping back and forth, but she could make out the door well enough. Em tipped herself off the bed, landing on her hands and knees on the plush carpet.

Evelyn was there, crouched next to her. She wrapped a cold, not-there hand around Emily’s arm, making her shiver again. “Come on, Emmy,” she begged.

Slowly, Emily sat up on her knees. Then, bracing on the bed, she managed to get unsteadily to her feet. Her head cleared a bit with each movement, but she still swayed as she stepped away from the bed.

She put both hands out and managed to totter over to the closet. Then she felt her way around the corner and to the door. She groped for the handle and got it to turn.

Evelyn appeared in the main room as Emily shoved the door open and gripped the doorframe. “You can do it, Emmy,” she said, glancing worriedly at Anton’s door. “Hurry! You can make it.”

Emily tottered her way over to the couch and then across to the kitchen island, still covered in pizza and plates.

Evelyn appeared at the front door, holding out her arms. “Come on,” she urged. “Just one more big push.”

Emily reached her hands out for her sister. She took two big steps, but she’d forgotten that Evelyn couldn’t catch her. Em’s legs gave out and she fell to her knees in front of the door.

Evelyn knelt next to her. “Come on, Emmy.” She glanced over her shoulder. “You have to do it! Now!”

Emily gripped the handle in both hands and turned it. She toppled out into the hallway with a moan.

“You did it!” Evelyn said, appearing above her. “Now, close the door and get up.”

Emily dragged her legs over the threshold and kicked the door shut again. Then she rolled onto her hands and knees. She crawled to the wall, then clawed her way back to her feet.

“No,” said Evelyn, as Em started toward the gold blur of the elevator doors. “Not that way.”

She pointed in the opposite direction to a pair of shiny, wide steel doors set in the opposite end of the hallway. They were closer, whatever they were, so Emily lumbered in the direction her dead twin had indicated.

After what seemed like an eternity, Emily stumbled against the cool metal of the doors. It was another elevator. She groped for the down button on the little control pad, but it wasn’t a button at all. It was a key hole.

“What now?” she moaned, dropping to her knees again.

“Wait here.” Evelyn stepped through the silver doors.

The realization that her dead sister still wanted to kill her clawed its way up through Emily’s murky mind. This could easily be a trap. Maybe she’d open the doors to the empty shaft and Emily would fall right in.

She pushed away from the doors with a hopeless sob. A thud from down the hall, drew her attention. She looked back to see a dark form emerging from a door. She couldn’t make out who it was, but she could guess. She tried to get to her knees, but the fiery pain in her chest flared up again and even her arms gave out.

“Emmy, get in!” Evie cried from behind her.

Emily glanced back to see that the elevator was open and her sister was inside, holding an entreating arm out.

Em dragged herself across the threshold and into the elevator.

“The button!” said Evie, pointing to the bottommost of the countless circles on the control pad to the side of the doors. “Press this one. Hurry, he’s coming!”

Emily stabbed the button and got an answering ding from above. A few moments later, the doors slid shut. She heard a frustrated roar and a thump from the other side.

Evelyn sighed and sank down next to Emmy. “We did it.”

“He’ll follow us,” said Emily.

Evie shook her head. “It’s a freight elevator. It goes to the basement. The other one doesn’t. He’ll have to take the stairs.”

“I’m too tired,” Em sobbed. “I can’t get up anymore. I can’t run.”

“You have to,” Evelyn told her. “Just a bit farther. Someone’s here to get you. We just have to make it to the parking lot.”

“Who?” Emily whispered.

“I don’t know,” said Evie. “I can only see him in the distance.”

The ride seemed to take forever. Emily tried to keep her eyes open, but it got harder and harder as time passed and her pounding heart circulated the sedative. Somewhere along the way, her eyes fell closed again.

Emily heard a faraway ding and then the rumble of the doors opening, but couldn’t seem to will herself to move. After a moment, she heard another ding and what she knew must be the doors closing again.

“No!” she heard a faraway voice exclaim.

A shock of cold ran through her, but it wasn’t enough to cut through the stupor.

Then came another burst of fire from her chest. Em groaned and stirred, her eyes falling open. She saw the doors slide open a second time to reveal a dark, cement room. Evie appeared, glowing eerily in the gloom.

“Get out!” she exclaimed. “I can’t do that again. I haven’t got the strength.”

There was another ding and the doors began to slide shut. Emily stuck her hand out and they retreated again. Then she pulled herself forward, inch by inch until she was laying on cold concrete.

“Come on,” said Evie, crouching next to her. “It’s not far now.” She turned and pointed into the gloom. “Just out that door and you’re in the parking lot. See the door?”

Emily blinked her vision clear and could just make out a rectangle with a dim halo of light around it. She nodded. “I see it.”

“Get to it. Get outside. You can do it, Emmy.” And then Evie disappeared, leaving Emily in total darkness.

Grunting, Emily rolled onto her hands and knees. She didn’t think she had the strength to walk, so she crawled. The door wasn’t far, but it was slow going. Finally, she reached it. She gripped the handle in both hands and used it to drag herself onto her feet. She twisted and used her weight to push it open, stumbling out into the muggy summer night .

She stared around the parking lot, but all she could make out was darkness with a few blobs of light from the street lamps. Evie had lied. There was no one. She dropped to her knees again, gravel grinding into her bare hands and shins.

Suddenly an engine roared to life. She winced as a truck neared, pinning her in its headlights. It pulled alongside her and the passenger door swung open.

“Get in,” said a gruff voice.

Emily shook her head. She didn’t know this man. He could be anybody. It could be a trick.

“I’m here to help you, honey,” said the man, “but you gotta get in.”

What choice did she have? Em reached for the door and dragged herself up and into the truck. She heaved the door closed again and they rumbled off.

“You okay?” she heard the man ask as she slumped over onto the dashboard. But she couldn’t find the strength to form an answer.

So, there you go. From there things really take off. Speaking of, here’s my progress for today:

So, this year’s NaNo novel features not one, but two people with disabilities. The main character suddenly can’t talk because of magic. And a pretty important supporting character is in a wheelchair because of a bullet to the spine.

It’s a bit daunting because I don’t have either of these disabilities. (Although I’m sure some of my classmates back in middle and high school wondered if I was actually mute.) The mute girl doesn’t actually require much research. For one, she’s affected by magic, so it’s not like it’s a typical case. And she’s just been rendered mute, so it’s not like I need to research ways she’d have adapted over time.

But the paralyzed man has been in a chair for decades. So he’ll have to be pretty well adjusted. For instance, I needed to figure out a way that he can drive himself and get upstairs on his own. And without fancy gadgets, because he’s kind of poor and more likely to go the do-it-yourself route. I already found a pretty good way to explain both. I just hope I don’t insult any disabled people too badly with my ideas of what their life is like.

On top of that, this is a world with magic and spells, so there’s always the temptation to magically fix my paralyzed character. Which I really don’t want to do. I think *that* would be more insulting to disabled readers than any factual mistakes. As much as I like my character and want to give him a happy ending, the wheelchair is a physical trait not a plot point to be resolved in Act 3. “White washing” him back out of the chair is like saying no one could be happy living the rest of their life that way. And there are plenty of real people who do lead normal, happy lives without the ability to walk.

So…. I don’t know why I felt the need to add the challenge of realistically portraying disabilities I know nothing about, but I’m gonna do my best.

Well, I decided to go ahead and post part of my NaNo novel. I’ll probably just put the first chapter or two up and it’s definitely nowhere near the finished, polished version. But what the heck, here goes:

Emily tried to move, but the pain was too much. Even shallow breaths sent waves of fire coursing through her rib cage. Something heavy was pinning her against cold metal. She blinked to clear her vision and tried to make out her surroundings. There was a sickly white glow in front of her.

She tried to cry out to them, but could only manage a weak moan. An answering moan from beside her made her force her eyes open again.

It was Evie. She lay draped across the dashboard, her legs outside the car, one bent back beneath her at a sickening angle. She was facing Emily, one cheek pressed into a pool of glass. Her eyes found Emily’s but she didn’t seem any more able to talk than her twin.

One arm lay flung out in front of her. Her hand twitched, inching forward just a bit. Emily could see in her eyes that she was trying, trying desperately to reach her sister. Emily tried to move her own arm, but she couldn’t feel her left arm and moving her right sent waves of fire through her again.

Please, Evie begged with her eyes, please, help me.

Somehow Emily knew if she could just reach her sister, even just brush her fingers, she could pull her back. They’d both be okay.

But the pain was too much and Emily fell back into darkness.

She woke with a scream, like she did every night. It didn’t matter. The four other girls in the room slept on. No one could hear her. She hadn’t been able to make a sound—not that anyone else could hear—in over six months.

Emily clutched the blankets around her and buried her head further into the pillow. She knew by now she’d never get back to sleep, but Barb and Emmet, her foster parents, didn’t want any of them wandering around at night.

Emily stared at the ceiling and tried to slow her pounding heart. Her new heart. The one they’d taken from Evie and put into her. They said her parents had died instantly, painlessly. Then again, they said Evie’s brain stem had been too damaged for her to have felt anything either.

So why did she see Evie every night, pleading, reaching for her? That one memory, that one flash of consciousness, was the only thing she did remember about that night. She couldn’t even remember what had made her father swerve off the road.

Emily rolled over and looked to the little window that sat between the two sets of bunk beds. The sun was just rising, making the sky gray. Emily was the newest, so she slept on a cot in front of the closet. Barb said she wouldn’t be staying long enough for it to be worth it to get her a new bed. They were already over capacity. Not that the little room with its faded lavender walls could fit another bed. It was barely big enough for the two sets of bunk beds.

The whole house was too small. At least for the twelve people it held at the moment. The boys had it worse. There were six sharing a room not much larger than the girls’. They had two sets of bunk beds with hammocks strung between them. Terra, the oldest of the girls after Emily and the one who’d been there longest, said they had to take them down when the state inspectors came. They set up two cots instead, but there just wasn’t enough room to walk around.

Emily did finally drift back to sleep. She was woken a few hours later by Terra.

“I need the closet,” she said, exaggerating her words and pointing from herself to the little sliding door.

Emily had been there nearly a week and still no one could remember that she was mute, not deaf. She rolled to her feet and pulled the little bed out of the way. She waited for Terra to pick her clothes and then retrieved the little backpack on the floor of the closet. She hadn’t been able to get back to the house before the bank foreclosed on it. Mrs. Hendricks, her social service worker, had gone instead. She’d packed five bags. Mostly clothes. Half of it was Evie’s stuff. It was in storage, Mrs. Hendricks said. She’d given Emily one backpack to hold her over until they found a permanent place for her. A permanent place. Not a home. Terra said at Emily’s age—sixteen—they’d probably put her in a group home. Then when she was eighteen she was on her own.

She dressed in a plain red blouse and a black skirt. They were Evie’s. The blouse dipped too low, showing the surgery scar that ran from the tip of Emily’s sternum all the way down to her stomach. But she didn’t have anything but blouses until Barb did the laundry.

Terra shook her head as she pulled on her own shirt. “That thing gives me the creeps,” she said to the other girls.

Emily followed the others downstairs and into the kitchen, careful to avoid looking in the mirror at the top of the stairs. She always hated the days when she had to wear Evie’s clothes. Every time she caught a glimpse of her reflection, she got a little jolt of hope before she realized what she was looking at.

Barb had set out bowls of cereal for each of them. The six boys had already taken all the chairs at the table, shoveling their breakfast in. Emily joined the girls as they crowded around the counter. She smiled a thank you at Terra as she passed her the sugar. All they ever had were plain Cheerios and those got old really fast.

“Mrs. Hendricks called,” Barb said as Emily passed the sugar bowl. “She’s got an appointment for you with a doctor.”

“What kind of doctor?” Emily asked. Then, remembering, she pulled out her pad of paper and pencil and wrote the question out.

“I don’t know,” said Barb. “She’s coming to get you at nine, so hurry and finish your breakfast.”

Emily waited on the little stone porch for Mrs. Hendricks. She was half an hour late. When she did finally come, she honked the horn impatiently as Emily trotted down the sidewalk to the worn gray station wagon, as if was Emily who was holding them up.

Mrs. Hendricks was a tired looking woman in her late fifties. She was bony, with her old skin stretched tight. She had blonde hair that was fading to gray and thin lips that were always pressed together.

She pointed them at Emily as she struggled to pull the door shut.

“We’re late,” she told Em.

Emily pulled her seatbelt tight and gripped it where it ran across her chest. Mrs. Hendricks always drove too fast. She squeezed her eyes shut.

Twenty minutes later they parked in front of the social services office. It was a plain, brick building, the kind that rented office suites to little businesses. Emily frowned. She’d thought they’d be going to the hospital again. That was where her doctors were. The ones who’d saved her life.

“We’re going to talk to a nice woman named Dr. Helman,” said Mrs. Hendricks as they strode through the maze of cubicles. She took Emily to a little glass walled room in the back. A woman in a brown pant suit and glasses sat at the table inside the room.

“Dr. Helman, this is Emma,” said Mrs. Hendricks, ushering her into the room. She left the room, shutting the door behind her.

“Hello, Emma,” said Dr. Helman, gesturing for her to take the chair opposite her.

Emily sat and pulled out her pad of paper. Emily, she scribbled, underlining it a few times.

“Ah,” said Dr. Helman. “Sorry. Emily. Nice to meet you.” She handed the pad back and picked up manila folder on the coffee table between them. “I understand you’re having trouble communicating,” she said, flipping the folder open and scanning down the first page inside.

Emily frowned. She’d never have described it that way. She shrugged.

Dr. Helman tapped a finger against the page in front of her. “It says here the doctors in the hospital tested you. Do you know what they found?”

Emily sighed and nodded. They’d thought at first it might have been some kind of complication from the accident, scar tissue they’d missed or even swelling in the brain. Then they’d thought maybe it had been some sort of reaction to a drug she’d been given during surgery. Then they’d thought maybe it was some sort of infection. But in the end they couldn’t find anything wrong with her.

But there was definitely something very wrong. It wasn’t just that she couldn’t make sounds or couldn’t move her mouth. Not precisely. To Emily, it seemed like she was talking, just like normal. She felt her mouth move, she heard the sounds come out, but no one else could hear it or see it. She’d tried; she couldn’t even mouth words. When she’d tried to explain it all to the doctors at the hospital, they’d all looked at her like she was crazy.

Which was why, she guessed, they’d brought Dr. Helman to see her. A psychiatrist or therapist or whatever.

“And what do you think?” asked Dr. Helman. “Do you think they’re wrong? Do you think that something medical is causing this?”

Emily shrugged.

“Emily,” said Dr. Helman, leaning forward. “You’re sixteen years old. You’ve just lost your parents and your twin sister. I know you understand about emotional trauma. Try to think objectively. Do you think maybe this inability to speak might have an emotional cause rather than a physiological one?”

Emily shrugged again.

Dr. Helman reached across the table and put a hand over Emily’s notepad. “Listen to me, Emily. I know that you feel a great deal of pain and fear right now. But closing down isn’t a healthy way to deal with your emotions.”

She slid the pad over to her side of the table. “I’m going to recommend that your foster parents practice tough love for the next week. If you want anything, including food, you’re going to have to ask for it.” She tapped the pad. “Out loud.”

“What?! You’re joking, right?” The therapist didn’t hear the words, but apparently the expression on Emily’s face said enough.

“I’m not trying to be cruel, Emily,” said Dr. Helman. “I’m truly not. But we need to snap you out of this, and soon. You need to start dealing with your trauma in a healthy way. People with hysterical loss of sight or hearing or speech can progress to full blown catatonia.”

Emily stared at her. “Are you insane? I’m going to starve!”

Dr. Helman glanced at her watch. “I’m sorry. I’m afraid, I’ve got another appointment. I’m going to have your social worker bring you back here in one week. I hope to hear your beautiful voice.”

Emily stood, still not quite believing what she’d heard. They couldn’t really starve her, could they? There had to be laws about that.

She waited outside the door while Dr. Helman motioned Mrs. Hendricks inside. She watched them talk, trying to read their lips, but couldn’t make much out.

She stepped back as Mrs. Hendricks emerged again.

They got into the car, but for once Mrs. Hendricks didn’t speed off. Instead, she turned to Emily and regarded her gravely. “You’ve got to talk, do you understand? You’re sixteen and a half years old and you say you’ve got no family or even close family friends who could take you in. You’ve got a year and a half to go before you age out of the system. If you can’t talk, Dr. Helman will recommend that you be committed to a psychiatric facility until you’re eighteen. And I can’t fight it. I couldn’t justify placing you with a long term foster family or even in a group home, not when there are so many other, younger children who need beds.” She gripped Emily’s arm. “You have to talk. Or at least get a name—someone, anyone who might be willing to take you.”

Emily sighed and looked out the window. They’d been through this before. Mrs. Hendricks just couldn’t fathom that a girl from an upper middle class family in a nice neighborhood didn’t have one single person who’d be willing to take her in. But her grandparents were dead and her parents were both only children. There were no uncles and aunts, no grown up cousins, no great aunts or uncles.

And friends? Yes, her parents had friends. They had work friends and they had neighbors that they said hello to and chatted with at barbecues. But they were the kinds of friends and neighbors that you asked to pick up the mail and water the plants when you went on vacation. Not to adopt your daughter.

Mrs. Hendricks sighed in annoyance. “Suit yourself.”

Emily retreated upstairs as Mrs. Hendricks explained the new “tough love” prescription to Barb. Terra was in their room when Emily came in. She and another girl, Denay, were going through Emily’s backpack.

Terra jumped up and shrugged. She and the other girl pushed past Emily and out into the hallway. “Don’t worry,” she heard Terra say. “Who’s she gonna tell? She can’t even talk.”

Emily knelt and collected her clothes, carefully folding each piece before putting it back in the backpack. Barb came to call her for lunch a half an hour later.

Emily’s hopes rose. Maybe she wasn’t the only one who thought the doctor from the social services office was insane. Her hopes sank again as Barb guided her over to the counter. Everyone else had grilled cheese sandwiches and chips. Emily had a glass of water.

“Mrs. Hendricks says if you want anything else, you have to ask for it out loud,” Barb told her. “Sorry.”

Emily gripped her water in both hands and stared across the table at Denay’s lunch. The younger girl slid her arms around her paper plate, scowling. Emily turned with a sigh and went back upstairs.

She forgot about the mirror at the top of the stairs. She stopped a few steps from the top, staring at the blonde girl in the mirror, half Emily and half Evie. She supposed that wasn’t an entirely inaccurate description: Evie’s clothes, Evie’s heart.

She’d lost weight in the hospital. She’d always been the heavier twin. Now she was skinnier than either of them had ever been. Her bones stuck out beneath her skin and her eyes looked sunken in. Her scar stood out against her pale skin. And her light blonde hair made her look almost albino. Maybe she was neither of them. Maybe she was the ghost of them both.

Terra found her in their room after lunch. Emily didn’t bother to look up as the younger girl came to stand before her.

“Here,” she said, shoving a napkin-wrapped bundle under Emily’s nose.

Emily took it, looking at the other girl questioningly. She unwrapped the offering to find half a sandwich and some chips.

“Thanks,” Emily said, wishing she had something to write with. She smiled at the girl and took a big bite of the sandwich.

Terra sat crosslegged on the floor in front of Emily. “Did you have a good family before?”

Emily stared at her sandwich, throat tight and eyes suddenly burning. “The best,” she whispered. She nodded for Terra’s benefit.

“Yeah,” said Terra, “me, too. That’s the worst. If you’re like Denay or Lucah or most of the others, this place isn’t any worse than where they came from. But if you had a good family before, it’s harder to get used to.” She picked at the fraying edge of her shirt. “You have to grab whatever you can, from whoever you can, and hide it.” She jabbed a finger at the backpack next to Emily on the cot. “And take your stuff with you whenever they take you anywhere. You never know when they’re moving you on and if you forget your stuff, they’ll say they’ll send it to you, but they never do.”

Emily clutched her backpack to her chest and nodded her understanding.

“And you better talk if you can,” said Terra, rising. “I know some girls who had to go to the psychiatric hospital. It’s not good. They can drug you up and tie you down. Even a group home’s better than that.”

And with that, she left Emily to her lunch.

She forced the food down, even though she didn’t feel much like eating any more. She didn’t know when she’d get her next meal.

***

She had the same dream again, waking with a scream. She looked to the window. The sky was pitch black and the moon was high. It had to be early yet, maybe around 2 a.m.

She looked over at Terra’s sleeping form on the top of the bunkbed. She was right. Anything was better than spending the next two years in a state run hospital. She might as well be on her own.

Emily sat up and slid her legs over the side of the cot. She reached underneath and pulled out the backpack that she’d stashed before bed. She hugged it to her chest again, gathering her courage, then stood. She crept out the door, easing it closed.

Barb and Emmet slept in the room nearest the stairs. She went slowly, step by step, careful not to shift her full weight until she was sure the old wood wouldn’t creak. Movement from the corner of her eye made her whirl, gasping in fear. But it was just the mirror.

She smiled at her reflection. “You and me, Evie, just like it always was.”

Downstairs, she moved hurriedly through the darkened house. She stopped in the kitchen first. Take what you can when you can, Terra had said, and Emily intended to take her at her word. She pulled down a half dozen cans from the pantry. She couldn’t make out the labels in the dark, but from her past experience she could guess they were either chicken with stars or ravioli. It would have to do for now.

She paused on her way to the door and ducked into the living room. She pulled a blanket off the couch. It was mid June, but she’d need it eventually. She knelt by the door to fit all her plunder into her backpack. It fit, just barely.

And then she slipped out of the house. She didn’t run, but she walked as fast as she could. She paused when she was out of sight of the house, realizing that she didn’t really know where she was going. Just like she’d been telling Mrs. Hendricks, she had no one, nowhere to go.

After a moment, she set off in the direction of the only place she’d really wanted to go since waking up in the hospital. It had been months of recovery, for her broken arms, for her new heart. Nearly five before she was done with daily visits to her specialists.

By that time, her family was long buried. There hadn’t been a funeral. Any assets the Richards family had were used to cover debts and medical bills. Not Emily’s. Not most of them anyway, after all she was a ward of the state. But not Evie or their mother and father. Somehow it cost thousands just to transport their dead parents and to verify that they were dead. And Evie. Well, she’d been technically alive. Her body at least, even though there wasn’t enough of her brain left to even tell it to breathe.

So her parents and sister were lowered without ceremony into three matching graves while Emily lay unconscious in intensive care. She’d asked Mrs. Hendricks to take her when they first met, but there hadn’t been time. She had thirty other children to worry about, too. Barb had said she’d take her, but always later.

The cemetery wasn’t so far. Maybe three or four miles. The moon was still high in the sky when she reached the little stone fence that ran around it. It wasn’t high at all, barely coming to Emily’s chest. It seemed more decorative than anything else. She threw her backpack over, then pulled herself up and over.

It occurred to her as she knelt to retrieve her backpack that she didn’t know where in the cemetery her family was buried. And she hadn’t thought to bring a flashlight. Still, the moon was bright enough to see by. And she had all the time in the world.

She stopped at a grave with a towering, shiny red headstone. Magda Lowell. Sister, Mother, Grandmother. Loved Always. The little built-in vase was teeming with flowers, with more bouquets around it. Emily stooped and picked up three white lilies.

Movement from her left drew her eyes. But when she looked, nothing was there. “Just a bird,” she muttered. Or maybe her reflection on the shiny headstones. One of them caught her eye and she thought she could make out the name Richards.

Moving closer, she saw that, yes, it said Thomas Richards and next to it was Helen Richards and then Evelyn Richards. Emily traced the smooth letters of her father’s name, wondering idly who had paid for the headstones.

Emily’s throat constricted painfully as she knelt in the cool grass in front of the three graves and placed a flower in each of their vases. She was glad that no one could hear her for once. She could sob as loudly as she wanted and not draw any attention.

She let the hot tears run down her cheeks as she stared at all that was left of her family. The headstones were small and plain. Just the names and the dates. Sniffling, Emily dug in her bag for the can opener she’d brought. They deserved more. Loving Father and Husband, Cherished Mother and Wife, Beloved Sister and Daughter. But there wasn’t room. So Emily just scratched Loved Always in uneven letters below each of their dates.

By the time she was done with all three graves, her hands and wrists ached. But she’d stopped crying. She ran a hand over the smooth face of each gravestone. “Hi Mom, Dad, Evie,” she whispered. “Sorry it took me so long to get here.” Her throat was tight again. “I miss you all so much.”

There was more to say, but she didn’t want to start crying again. Instead, she crawled to Evie’s grave and pulled the blanket from her backpack. She curled up, using the bag for a pillow and squeezed her eyes shut. She pretended she was back in their bedroom, curled up with Evie on her bed, whispering about boys and school and what they’d do when they got their licenses in a few months.

***

She fell into the dream again. Cold metal and broken glass and a burning in her chest. But this time Evie was calling for her. Emily tried to answer, but she couldn’t speak through the pain. And, like always, she couldn’t reach her twin.

The pain followed her into the waking world. Emily groaned instead of screaming and curled onto her side. The phantom pain subsided after a moment, and that was when Emily realized that she wasn’t alone. Someone was sitting next to her on the graves.

She rolled and found her own reflection staring back at her. Sunken eyes and pale skin. Only there was no mirror and this girl was crouched instead of laying flat.

She scrambled back with a scream as realization hit her.

The other girl reached out to her. “Em.”

“Ev-Evie?” Emily breathed.

Her sister nodded and Emily noticed for the first time that she could see a hint of her father’s grave right through Evie’s body. “You’re dead.”

Evelyn nodded, looking to her own headstone. “But not completely. I’m trapped, Em. I’m stuck in limbo.”

Emily shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

Evelyn crawled forward and traced a finger over Emily’s scar. Em felt a whisper of cool wind where Evie’s finger ought to have been and shuddered.

“My heart,” said Evie. “I can’t cross over until it stops beating.”

Emily stared. “But….”

“It’s gray here, Emmy,” said her twin. “Gray and cold. I want to cross over. I want to be with Mom and Dad. Help me, Emmy.”

“How?”

Evelyn stroked Emily’s cheek. “You’ve got to kill yourself.”

Emily scrambled away. “What?”

“You have to,” said Evie, crawling after her, trying to catch her leg with a hand that wasn’t really there. “Emmy, it’s the only way. Then we can all be together. Mom and Dad and you and me. We’ll go together, Em. You and me, Emmy, just like it always was.”

Emily finally forced her shaking limbs to work, clamoring to her feet and bolting off into the darkness. She was sobbing raggedly, not paying attention or caring where she was going. Just as long as it was away.

She collided with something and fell back, staring up in disbelief. Somehow she’d made it to the stone wall. She clawed her way over, landing on her knees on the other side and sobbing in relief.

A siren whooped in front of her and suddenly she was illuminated in a pair of headlights. She squinted against the harsh light, barely making out a flashing red and blue beyond. There was movement from her left and then she was hauled to her feet and face to face with a very irritated looking man. “What do you think you’re doing out here? You know you’re trespassing?”

The policemen were a bit nicer to her once they realized she couldn’t speak. The older one, who had a big black mustache like her father, gave her a pad of paper and pencil to write with. Still, they wouldn’t let her go back for her things. They said she could come back in the morning when the cemetery was open. Right now, they had to get her back to her foster family.

Barb and Emmet met them at the door, looking weary and annoyed. They thanked the policemen and ushered Emily inside. “That was really stupid,” Emmet said, propelling Emily toward the stairs.

“We had to call Mrs. Hendricks,” Barb added. “Add flight risk to your refusal to speak, and there’s no way she can stop them from committing you now. She’s coming to pick you up in the morning.”

Emily stared at her. Barb was obviously waiting for some reaction, some realization of how the terrible fate she’d brought on herself. But after what she’d seen in the graveyard, Emily wasn’t entirely sure that she shouldn’t be medicated and locked up. Isn’t that what you were supposed to do with someone who saw imaginary people telling them to kill themselves?

I’m already about halfway through Chapter 2, which I might post as well. Speaking of, here’s my progress for today.

Well, it’s Day 2 of NaNo, and so far I’m going strong. I didn’t make it to my area’s write-in Sunday. I went home to WI instead, but I still managed to meet my 2,500 word goal for Sunday. I’m thinking maybe the write-ins wouldn’t actually help my writing that much. I tend to need to just park in front of the computer with the novel’s playlist on loop and ignore the outside world. Yes, I make a tailored playlist for each novel I write. I’ve had the one for NaNo 09 since mid-October.

Anyway, I’d still like to go to a meet-up or write-in this year. Just to meet other writers in my area. “Make a Friend” is on this year’s to-do list and time is a-runnin’ out.

In writing news, I already had an I-Hate-My-Writing-Style relapse, but it passed. I’m trying really hard not to backtrack for any reason, because once I start reading back what I’ve written, I get sucked into editing mode and my creative side flounces off in a huff.

I say “trying” because I sort of already did. But with good reason. I needed to change a scene’s setting to make sense with something new I was writing. And it ended up netting me more words and clearing up a block. So. Doesn’t count.

I’ve been lurking over at nanowrimo and they have these daily excerpt posts where you can add what you’ve written for the day. I’m thinking of posting Chapter 1 of my novel. Just for the lulz. Or I guess I could just post it here.

I don’t know. I’m oscillating between “Hate it!” and “Eh, it’s not so bad….” so it all depends on what mood I’m in.

Oh, and I’m dusting off the ol’ Writing Progress box. Good to have you back, buddy: