Rhys
Fear [feer] n—Opposite of faith
Rain sheets the sky an angry gray. The mountains hold up the clouds like a pole in the middle of a circus tent. I look at the brown paper bag sitting in the passenger seat, and my heart races. This is it.
Her house hasn’t changed; it’s amazing how much the life inside it has. I knock on her front door, but she doesn’t answer, so I ring the doorbell. She probably moves slowly, most likely in a wheelchair.
I hold the bag against my chest with both hands so I won’t be tempted to ring the doorbell again. But after a minute passes, I lose patience and ring it anyway.
Movement catches my eye through the window. Emmy. Her hair is up in her trademark bun. Her hands move gracefully in the air like she’s dancing . . . but only with her arms. After a moment, she reaches into a bag and picks up a ballet shoe. She reverently touches the material.
She’s right there, so close but so far away. She doesn’t even glance in my direction. She isn’t going to answer. She meant what she said. She hates me. I’ve lost her.
I turn to leave, but then stop. In Emmy’s hand is a cased razor. She slides her thumb down the side of the plastic, exposing the blade. She holds up the ballet shoe and then drags the sharp end across the thick leather sole.
Panicked, I drop the bag and try the doorknob. It’s locked. I ring the bell again and then check the window to see if she’s moved or at least set down the blade. She has, but only to replace it with a lighter.
She positions one of the ribbons between her thumb and pointer finger. Clutching the lighter in her fist, she flicks her thumb against the strike, lighting a flame, then holds it to one of the silk ribbons.
Adrenaline kicks me in the gut, and I whip around to the front door. Whether she hates me or not, there’s no way I’m going to let her literally light her dreams on fire.
I search the porch for a hidden key and find one under the mat. I quickly unlock her front door and stumble inside.
Emmy startles, dropping both the lighter and her ballet shoe. She pulls out the earbuds, and music pulses from the small speakers.
She didn’t hear me knocking.