Falling, always falling. Lauren could see the ground, but it kept moving away as if it would never stop. She tried to grab hold of something, anything to stop her fall. There was nothing.
"No," she cried. "No, no, no."
She sat bolt upright in bed. The bedside clock read twelve minutes past three, and she shook her head as if to get rid of the nightmare. This dream had haunted her nights before, and it wouldn't be the last time it crept into her head.
Turning on the bedside lamp, she looked around to make sure nothing was out of place. She gripped her pillow in an attempt to feel grounded, to shake the overwhelming feeling she had that she was still falling.
When her head stopped spinning, Lauren climbed out of bed and went down the hallway to her parents’ room. No one was there, and she sighed as she climbed into their bed. Surely they would be home soon, and her mother could tuck her back into bed and sing her to sleep.
She hadn't gotten that earlier in the night; they had gone out again. This time, it was to celebrate her father's promotion; at least it was a valid reason.
The babysitter had arrived early, drenched in perfume that made Lauren sneeze, and looked around for Mark, Lauren's brother. He hadn't lived with the family for four years, but Justine seemed to forever hold out hope that she'd catch a glimpse of him. The black sheep of the family intrigued her.
At fifteen, he had dropped out of school and after a year of arguing with their parents, left home. He'd found a building apprenticeship and was now learning a trade. Although things were thawing between him and their parents, there was still a long way to go.
"Is your brother here?" Justine had asked, twisting a lock of her long, dark hair round her fingers
"No." Lauren said. "He doesn't live here anymore. Remember?"
"I know. I just thought he might have moved back or be visiting."
"I wouldn't need a babysitter if Mark was here, would I?"
"Oh," she’d said as if she hadn't thought of that at all.
Lauren had shaken her head and gone back to her room. Justine sat on the couch watching TV, still expecting Mark to walk through the door at any moment. At least Lauren had the evening undisturbed.
Mark not being around did suck. The siblings were ten years apart, but shared a twisted sense of humour that often fell flat with their parents. Home had been lonely without him. No one had ever asked her how she'd felt about him leaving.
She’d read her book until she didn't think she could stay awake any longer. Yawning, she’d looked at the clock. Her tired eyes had tried hard to focus on the hands, and she’d realised it was midnight.
Wonder if they're coming home soon, she’d thought.
Lauren closed her eyes. In a few more years she would be allowed to stay at home by herself. Maybe she could move out and be with Mark. He would take care of her.
She woke at ten, with no sign of her parents having been home. Late for school and confused, she went down the stairs towards the kitchen. The silence suggested no one was home.
Mark sat at the kitchen table, and Lauren wondered how long he'd been there.
"What are you doing here, dick?" she asked.
He looked up, giving her a half-hearted smile. His eyes were rimmed red as if he had been crying.
"What's wrong with you?"
"Lauren," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "Lauren, it's Mum and Dad."
"What are you talking about?"
"Baby girl, I have no idea how to tell you this. Dad had too much to drink. There was an accident. The people in the other car are fine, but Mum and Dad … they … they …"
Lauren clapped her hand over her mouth. "No. That's not true. Where are they? You are so mean."
"Sweetheart, it's true, I swear." He reached for her, but she pulled away.
"Mum? Dad?" she called. Mark was looking at her with so much sadness in his eyes, she couldn't bear it.
"Lauren, I wouldn't lie to you about this. I got a call last night from the cops. We decided it was best to let you sleep rather than wake you in the middle of the night."
He grabbed hold of her arm, pulling her towards him into a bear hug. "It's just you and me. I'll move back in. We'll do this. I won't let you down again."
"You're always running," she whispered. "From me, from Mum and Dad, from school."
"I didn't need school. I've got a job. One day I'll have my own business. Right here and now, I swear that I will always be here to take care of you."
She sobbed into his chest. "I can't believe this is real."
"I know," he whispered, kissing the top of her head. "I know, sweetheart. We'll get through it somehow, I promise."
The numb feeling started that day.
Ethan Stone stood at the altar. Every part of him wanted to run, but this was something he just couldn't get out of. Not that he'd planned things this way.
Catherine was gorgeous, and he had been the envy of all his friends when he’d started dating her, though now he wondered just how many of those friends she’d slept with.
He had fallen head over heels, and she seemed really into him too, only to dump him when he got too serious. Not long afterwards, she'd reappeared to tell him she was pregnant. Of course, it had to be his.
Ethan would do the right thing. He always did, and Catherine knew it. His friends had teased him that she was in charge of their relationship, and while it was going well, he had been happy for her to lead the way. Now he was about to be tied into that for the rest of his life.
He watched as his bride approached. She beamed a radiant smile but never met his eyes. Catherine said she loved him, but Ethan knew what a catch she thought he was. A handsome, young doctor with a future, she’d said. He wanted to specialise in cosmetic surgery. His plan was to help people—she saw the dollar signs. This whole wedding was for show. She’d wanted it, and somewhere deep down he just knew he was going to live to regret it.
Ethan looked towards his mother. She knew just how much today weighed on his mind. He loved Catherine enough, he just didn't know if she really loved him. Ellen Stone winked at her son, and he smiled back at her. This was the right thing to do. At least, that's what he told himself.
Deep down, he wasn't that sure.
When the ceremony was over, they went on to the small reception. Catherine had complained that they weren't spending enough money on her special day. Ethan had no money left.
She'd fallen out with her parents, and they had wanted nothing to do with her, even on her wedding day. Ethan and his mother had paid for everything.
Every time he felt like standing up for himself, telling her where to go, he was reminded of that tiny bump. The one his mother was sure belonged to someone else.