Voices reverberated in Esmé's head, each one telling her a different direction; do this, do that. It was a mere whisper crawling under her skin, bemusing her. She was in a blind alley, nobody to trust; nobody to rely on. Then someone called her name. A desperate and upset tone lingered in it. Was it her mother?
"Mum?" She wanted to call back instinctively but she couldn't.
"Rose, can you hear us?" Another voice pierced through. It was Emma.
A tear rolled down Esmé's cheek as she stared into the darkness. She was laying down, her breathing was shallow, and her head ached, pounding in her skull.
They called her name over and over again. She wanted to answer them, cry for their help. Her chest tightened the more she tried to respond, but when she opened her mouth, no sound came out.
"Rose." The voice lost its intensity, going away and turning vague.
Her eyes were open, but all Esmé saw was pitch black. The darkness swallowed her and her heart the more she fought to reach for the people that called her name. The knot in her throat ached when suddenly something - or someone grabbed her by her collar, pulling her up from whatever she had been resting on.
She came face to face with icy blue eyes, staring her down, shuddering her to her soul. She coughed, attempting to shrug the man off of her but his hold only tightened. His rough grip was frightening her as she tried to identify her assailant. Then she recognised his face well hidden behind shadows.
"Dean?" Esmé mumbled skittishly, finally able to bring out a sound. But his expression hardened even more upon hearing her tenuous voice. Dean didn't say a single word, hovering above her intimidatingly as his hand on her collar travelled around her small neck, squeezing it.
Esmé gasped sharply, her hands grasping his, trying to push him away. But Dean was robust. Biting his lower lip, he drew out a small knife. Her eyes widened, fidgeting in his hold.
It was pointless. His eyes were glassy, ignoring her screams for help. He held the knife to her throat, his eyes locking on hers. But then his aggressive features faltered when he noticed a small tear roll down her cheek. Yet he didn't stop, whispering, "I'm sorry," and the knife slowly traced her skin.
Esmé jumped up in her bed. Her eyes darted around, looking for something menacing. She was panting. Her hand rested on her chest, expanding rapidly by her uneven breathing. Drops of sweat were prominent on her forehead as she gaped into her dark bedroom.
Another nightmare. The fourth one tonight.
Esmé pulled her knees closer to her upper body, hugging herself, listening to her heartbeat. Trying to fall asleep, she was only torturing herself more. Tonight was the worst she had experienced by far. She had gone through numerous restless nights, but this was different. She was at the edge.
Seeing Dean, how he tried to attack her and her mother looking for her - it all made her antsy. Her hands shook, and it wasn't from the cold. Shivers ran down her spine, causing her whole body to tremble when she remembered Dean's long, frigid fingers around her throat.
Her conversation with Mr Schubert echoed in her thoughts. She wouldn't be able to accept the fact that Dean was one of the Walker Twins - until he told her himself. Although she didn't want to believe it, she was certain it was true.
This was a hard one to take in. She hid her face behind her hands, her eyes tightly shut and her heart heavy in her chest. Did Dean make his promises only to fool her? Had he tried to gain her trust intentionally? She didn't want to believe that he could be betraying her - that he had never intended to help her.
YOU ARE READING
1928 ✓Historical Fiction
Rose Davies, a modern-day university student, finds herself trapped in the body of a 20s Lady, who had been brutally murdered at her time. Cutthroat gangs, fancy pubs and a new aristocratic lifestyle pull her into the hazardous world of Old London...