Caramel | A Short Story Collection ✓

23. The Day She Came For Grace

I know it's been a while since I posted a short story, but my English teacher asked us to all write one based on a picture prompt of a train, so I decided to share it with you guys. I've had massive writer's block lately for my novels, but this came really easily to me so I was thinking of trying to write some more short stories to get out of my slump. Would anyone be interested in reading them if I posted them here and made a part two of this collection? Comment and let me know! Anyway, I hope you enjoy this one.

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It was 6.57pm, and there was still no sign of her.

With every passing second, Lily grew simultaneously angrier and more apprehensive. She tightened her grip on her rucksack as another person walked by, searching for a seat, and shot them her fiercest glare. The man, who looked as though he was preparing himself to ask if the seat next to her was taken, visibly winced and moved on. Lily sighed, half in relief but half in fury. What use was saving the seat if she wasn't going to show up?

Grace Donovan. 17. Aries. Student at St Clare's. Likes long walks on the beach, theatre and miniature schnauzers. Parents divorced. Mum remarried. Three stepsisters, one half-brother. Proud owner of one rescue dog, three guinea pigs and five goldfish. All this Lily had gained from her Facebook profile, which was startlingly low on security. She liked repeating it to herself, like a list. Lily liked lists. They were neat and orderly. They made sense when nothing else did. She repeated it softly to herself now, trying to calm down. Grace Donovan. 17. Aries. Student at St Clare's. Likes-

"Excuse me, do you mind if I sit here?"

Lily had looked a lot of Facebook photos, she had searched through every school photo St Clare's website had to offer, she had even tailed her, but nothing had prepared her for seeing Grace close-up. Her hair was incredibly blonde and shiny, like a walking advert for a super-expensive special brand of shampoo, and her eyes were innocently blue, but the most disarming thing about her was her smile. It seemed to say 'trust me, I'm a good person. How could anyone dislike me with a smile like this?' If anyone saw Grace, they would probably try and convince her to take up a career in modelling, or try to flirt with her, or give her all their worldly possessions in the hopes of earning just one smile from her. Lily would probably do the same, if she didn't know the monster that lurked beneath the angelic, beautiful face. An overwhelming urge to launch herself at Grace and start pummelling her swept over Lily, but instead she merely moved her rucksack. "Yes, of course." She said sweetly, with a saccharine smile of her own. Grace swung herself into the seat just as the train pulled away from the station, picking up speed and starting the journey.

This was it, the moment she had been planning for. The thought of this made her squirm with excitement, but she didn't want the girl sitting beside her to notice, so she thought of her list. Likes long walks on the beach, theatre and miniature schnauzers. Parents divorced. Mum remarried. She felt calmer already. Everyone failed to understand how the lists worked, how the precise nature of the rhythm soothed Lily's emotions, but everyone agreed that as long as they worked, there was no reason to question them. Maybe if they knew what she was listing they would be more concerned, but Lily was good at keeping secrets, almost as good as Grace. And she knew she had to do this right, because this was the one opportunity she had.

"Where are you heading to?" Lily asked casually, as if she didn't already know the answer, as if she hadn't spent weeks watching Grace board the 7pm train from Belfast to Bangor every Friday evening, making sure she didn't deviate from the set pattern. Grace might be the one with a background in theatre, but Lily knew exactly how to act like a spy, and that included lying through her teeth when necessary.

"Bangor. I'm spending the weekend with my mum and her family." Grace replied politely, even though she was looking at something on her phone and quite clearly didn't want to have a conversation. Maybe her parents had taught her good manners. Maybe they were nice people, kind people, who were just too caught up in their marital problems to notice they weren't raising a daughter, they were raising a devil. Maybe they didn't deserve what was about to happen, but this was war, and civilian casualties were just a part of that.