Killing (And Other Games)

(Seven)

(Seven)

After the eleventh call with no answer I can only assume my mother has completely given up on me. Slamming my phone onto the bedside table, I stalk over to the window. Overlooking the pool, I should be able to see something but Ryker has switched off the lights and likely sucked all the life out of that part of the universe.

My arms shake in small shivers from some hybrid of fear, adrenaline and cold. I just keep watching the dark window, waiting for my mind to switch back on. The last ten minutes is a blur. I shiver violently.

The phone rings a blocked number. Tentatively, I pick it up and answer, not speaking but instead waiting for the caller to speak first.

Silence, then, "Imogene?"

"Mum?"

"Yes, of course."

"Why is your number blocked?" I ask, inching back to the window. I'm not sure what I'm waiting for. An explanation, maybe. A reason.

"Oh Imogene, I don't know, I can barely turn this thing on." That's true. She still thinks Apple is a fruit. "You're coming over now, yes?"

Well, she read my mind. "I was going to ask you if it's okay."

"Of course, of course. Why don't you stay here tonight? I don't want you tramming too late at night."

Wow, she really did read my mind. "Yeah, that'd be great mum. I'll be there soon."

Thirty minutes later, I arrive at the Killing household. Well, technically, the former Killing, now Readingson household. I like Killing better--Readingson is too common.

When Mum greets me at the door, I know I'm in trouble. I remember that she still thinks I came over and threw a tantrum, and I sigh. I honestly just want to go to sleep. I'm already wasting enough energy on blocking Ryker out of my mind.

"How was your day?" Mum asks as she leads me through the monstrous house to the back room. I miss the place, as cold and unwelcoming as it is.

"Alright," I lie.

"Would you like some tea or something?"

I flinch, looking up at my mum with wide eyes. "Tea? Seriously? I live here seventeen years and not once did you offer me a hot beverage and now you decide to become Donna Hay?"

She smiles uneasily, as if I've discovered a secret. "I know you've had a bad few weeks."

"Bad would be an understatement." I sit down on the couch and Mum takes a seat on the ornamental wooden chair that for all my life has been for decorating purposes only. I remember her screaming at a party guest who dared to put their bag on it. I eye her and the chair, wondering when she decided to take a chill pill.

"Well, if it's really that bad, then come home. If you're not having a good time at Jackson Street then just come home."

"What?" I blurt out, sitting forward semi-aggressively. "Are you bi-polar or something? Last time I spoke to you, you were pretty much willing to sell your soul to the devil so long as I stayed there."

Mum brushes a hair out of her face and smiles in a way that would be pleasant on anyone else. "I've changed my mind."

"Well I guess there is a first time for everything."

"Don't be ridiculous Imogene. You want to be back home, you've won. Can't you be happy with that?"

I frown, sitting back again. Something isn't right here. She hasn't even mentioned the supposed tantrum yet--why would she choose not to address it and then welcome me back with open arms? Maybe she sobered up enough to realize it wasn't true.