Brighter Than The Stars: Book One

Alternate 1.2

It was nearing midnight by the time Madeline turned onto her street, the lamps above showing her the way in the dark night. She parked in front of her parents house, and locked the car behind her.

Then she saw it. A vehicle she hadn't seen in twelve years. Covered in rust, and the years that passed in between, Madeline was surprised she recognized it at all, and probably wouldn't have if it hadn't been parked in the driveway between her house, and Harrison Fox's.

Her eyes followed the walkway, up the steps, and to the front door that was left open, her body hitting the back of her car when a loud crash came from the house. So many people hated that man, that any one of them would be anxious to destroy the house. Not none of them had been given her father's vehicle.

After another crash, Madeline checked around to notice none of the neighbor's light had been turned on by the commotion, and her stomach flopped and fluttered the closer she walked to the old house. No one would call the cops if they saw Harrison's house being broken into or vandalized.

He'd heard it. It was silly to think, but her inner child couldn't help but feel like the wish she'd left on the North Star had been received.

Minus the porch light and another turned on somewhere inside, the house was completely dark. Another crash happened somewhere within the house as she stepped through the doorway, glass crunching beneath her feet.

Despite the dimly lit space, Madeline could see the house was completely destroyed. Holes in the kitchen cabinets, or ripped clear off the hinges. The oven door smashed to pieces. Glasses and plates shattered and scattered across the floor. The small dining table with only one leg still attached. Holes in the walls stained with blood.

The small light turned on in the house came from a living room lamp set on the floor after the table it was sitting on had been launched clear across the room. And near the corner of the room, standing by an intact glass and bottle of brandy, was a man with a baseball bat and a vendetta.

"Elijah?"

At the sound of his name, the bat dropped from his hands, and the man turned to face her.

She expected him to feel less larger than life now that she was a full-blown adult, three years older than he'd been when he left. Her hairs stood up on end as she took in the sight in front of her. Still larger than life, even more so than before. His dark hair was in complete disarray, the embers in his green eyes fizzing as he took control of the fire. His white t-shirt was barely white anymore; more shades of brown and red, and covered in dust and debris. His knuckles appeared if they'd been ripped to shreds.

"Maddie?"

Why the sound of her own name caused her to step back, she didn't know. It felt like the ghosts of the old, dilapidated house had cast a shadow over them both. The man in front of her wasn't the boy she'd lost. The hatred that once filled the house had somehow entered him. She could see it slipping away, losing its power over him.

"Maddie," he repeated her name, bringing her attention from the damage that surrounded them, back to the man who'd created it. "I didn't mean to scare you. You know I'd never hurt you, right? Maddie?"

"I know," Madeline finally spoke, her voice coming out hoarse and near silent. "I wasn't scared of you hurting me, I promise. I'm just in shock, is all. After I didn't see you at the funeral today, I just assumed I'd never see you again. Now you're standing right in front of me, and I'm just freaking out a little. And by a little, I mean I might pass out."

Having Elijah in front of her, hearing his voice for the first time in over a decade, hearing that kindness and worry in his tone, spiraled her her brain up, down and sideways.