How?
I shake my head and straighten my shoulders. That’s it. I’m going. I’m going to the shed to see what I can find, and if I can’t find anything of use, I’m going into town. It doesn’t matter if they hurt me. I’m already dying a slow death here.
So, with determination, I walk back down the stairs to the first floor, moving quickly so I don’t lose my resolve. I turn the latch, careful to check to be sure my father’s ring of keys sits in my pocket still. I open the door, take a deep breath, and step outside.
It’s funny what people take for granted. The way they fall to sleep, their breathing slowing and bodies stilling. The way their heart beats, pumping blood through their veins. The way they blink, and swallow, how our limbs move in rhythm when we walk, sit, or stand.
I wonder if people take the outdoors for granted. When they step foot outside their doors, do they ever think of those who haven’t? Who can’t? Of those who’ve never seen the light of day?
Or am I the only who never has?
Gingerly, I step on the wobbly stone step that leads to the lighthouse. I half expect someone or something to come and attack me, he had me that riled up about danger outside these walls. Not surprisingly… no one does. Nothing happens.
A gentle breeze kicks up, and though it feels vaguely familiar—I do sit by open windows and let the wind rustle my hair and kiss my bare arms—it’s still wholly different. Kept hidden away behind the walls of my tiny home, I’ve never felt the wide-open expanse of the entire world around me. For a moment, I can’t breathe, I’m so giddy with the freedom this affords.
Oh, my, the sky is deep and breathtaking, blue sky as far as the eye can see. I swivel around to look behind me and cast a glance at the tumultuous ocean behind me. Waves crash on the shore, and I take in a breath. The magnificent blue of the ocean looks so much more vivid from here, like gems cast in spotlight. Glimmering. Shining. Radiant. I inhale deeply, salty air hitting my lungs, and open my arms wide before me. The world outside those walls is so vast. So beautiful. So endless.
Why did I wait so long to do this?
I close my eyes. It’s sunny and warm, with a delicate breeze that rustles my skirt and hair. I feel the kiss of warmth on my cheeks, and spin around slowly. Living so close to the ocean means we frequently get frigid air, and this winter was brutally cold, but today is near perfect. Like a little slice of heaven. I almost forget how starving I am, and my lightheadedness clears just a little.
The stones feel cool under my bare feet as I walk toward the shed. There’s a spring in my step now that I’ve gotten some fresh air. I don’t know why my father never let me out. It’s glorious out here.
When I reach the shed, the nervousness I felt earlier returns. I don’t much like creepy, crawly things, and I hope spiders and the like don’t come flying out at me. What if there’s a… person? Someone ready to hurt me, like father promised?
But I’ve already combed the entirety of the inside of the lighthouse. This is my last possible chance to find anything.
I go to turn the handle, but find it locked. I frown. Why would he lock it? Then I remember the keyring in my pocket and take it out. I look back at the shed. There isn’t just one, but a series of locks barricading this door. What on earth was he hiding in here that was of so much importance that he had to lock it up so tightly? Even our home wasn’t quite this secured.
I fumble with the locks and try various keys. It’s clumsy business, because I’ve only ever read about unlocking doors in books before. Finding the small keys to fit the right locks on the door is slow, tedious work. Finally, the last lock falls open, and I pull the door outward, bracing myself for a bat or spider or something to come flying out at me.
Fortunately, there’s nothing but dank, musty air. With a deep breath, I step inside.Chapter ThreeKeenanI don’t know what I’ll find at the lighthouse, but I’m familiar enough with Father Finn’s knowing look that I decide to prioritize my visit. I take Cormac with me. Though I can hold my own in fist-to-fist combat, it doesn’t hurt to have his hulking presence with me.
“You sure you don’t want a third?” Nolan asked, his frown making him look a bit pouty. At twenty-one years old, he’s not a lad anymore, though I can’t help but think of him as the baby in the family. When I was his age, I’d already sealed the deal on multiple loans, had half a million dollars socked away in savings, and contracted my first hit. But even though Nolan’s a man now, at twenty-one years old, it’s hard for me to see Nolan as anything more than my knock-kneed teenaged brother.