✨A/N: Hey, people! Welcome to the first instalment of the Marked series. It would mean the world if you could vote, comment, and share this story to get it out there. I would like to dedicate this first chapter to calmwolf , who has always supported me through each writing block and has been by my side to offer a helping hand when needed. Thank you for everything <3.
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Chapter I Goals: 5 reads, 3 votes
The mist coiled around me, thick and suffocating.
Wrapping my shawl further around my body, I walked towards my front door. The frigid, cold air rattled in my lungs like a child's toy before blooming out of nostrils in plumes of white smoke, stark against the evening sky.
A scowl tugged at my lips. This was a British winter at its finest—cold enough to nurture sheets of black ice, but not quite cold enough to see snow fall from the blanket of white clouds that loomed above me. I huffed.
I rapped on the door once, twice, and then a third time—a signature knock my brother and I had created years prior. For a moment everything was silent, and I began to worry that he may have gone ice skating with our parents—however, a few moments later, the door swung open.
My brother's smiling face was the first thing I saw. "Hello, strange person. If you're here to sell me something, I'd wait until my sister gets home—she's in dire need of a life."
A typical greeting from James. Rolling my eyes, I stepped inside, unwrapping my scarf.
"I would say it's nice to see you, brother, but it's actually not." I smiled brightly at him. "How have you been without me? More lonely than usual? And there I was, thinking it was impossible."
His answering scowl was enough to make me laugh. The insults and witty remarks we exchanged were the premises of a strong friendship—the love we shared for each other was the foundation of an everlasting sibling bond. He used to crawl into my cot and snuggle under my tiny blanket, making sure I was safe. To say he was protective would be an understatement. He would ward off any boy who came too close, adamant that there was Mr. Right waiting for me. Personally, I thought his antics were ridiculous. I just accepted it as to not endanger our relationship. Boys didn't faze me anyway, with their bloated egos and heavy expectations. They could go fuck themselves. I didn't need a man to survive, I just needed food. And water. Obviously.
"Love you too, Thea." he said, grinning.
I blew a kiss at him and walked into my personal heaven—the kitchen. I'd suffered through a long and torturous day at school, and the only thing that could absolve me was food. Sugary, fatty food, most of which would almost definitely give me diabetes by the time I turned twenty.
I shrugged. Oh well. Four years until certain death.
"Uncle Tom send twinkies again!" James shouted from the living room. I could almost hear the smile in his voice. "Try not to eat them all!"
The box of fatty deliciousness was placed upon the kitchen counter. I grinned and ripped the flimsy packaging apart, licking my lips in anticipation. American food was, admittedly, rather fattening; however, the cacophony of piercing, overlapping tastes and textures were superior to that of cuisine offered elsewhere. Twinkies, of course, were no exception. I heard James' bare feet slap against the tiles as he entered the room, arms crossed.
"Fatty," James whispered under his breath.
I hissed and whirled around, grabbing the spatula from the overhead cabinet. "Now, brother dearest, would you like to repeat that?"
He bit the inside of the lip. "Not particularly."
After taking a generous bite of the Twinkie I launched myself at him, brandishing the spatula as if it was a weapon of mass destruction. My attempt at intimidation was wasted on my older brother, who simply stepped aside and watched with faint amusement as I nose-dived. I landed on the tiled floor with a thud, groaning miserably.
"That would've been so awesome." I whispered.
"But it wasn't." he smiled apologetically and waltzed into the living room, refusing to spare a glance in my direction. I righted myself and grumbled something incoherent.
Brothers.
"Is Chrissy coming over?" James asked as I walked into the living room, still cradling my twinkie.
Chrissy was my best friend. We too had been connected since early childhood. Our parents knew each other well; so well, in fact, that Christina's mother was present at my birth. It was only natural that we'd grown close. She wasn't just my best friend--she was my confidante, my comrade; my fellow fatty.
"Yeah." I replied, swatting his arm. For my sake—and dignity—he feigned a wince. "No flirting, James! She friend-zoned you, like, ten years ago."
He shrugged. "I aim to change that."
Talk about timing. As if attuned to the mention of her name, Chrissy flounced into the house, her ears and nose slightly pink with the bite of the morning air. She exhaled, ungloving her hands, and offered me a wide, beaming smile. Quiet envy, although not malicious, made my heart slam sickeningly against my ribcage. She was the epitome of beauty with long, raven black hair that spilled past her shoulders and dark green eyes. Whilst appearing conventionally docile and pretty, there was a sharpness to her gaze and her features, which were as smooth as water yet as clean-cut and unrelenting as steel. Cross her, and you'd regret it.
"Hello, bitches." she greeted, leaving her coat sprawled in the foyer. "Where's my hug?"
James, all but choking on his popcorn, eagerly rushed forwards but I was faster, folding her in as tight a hug as I could manage. "Hey, Chrissy."
She pulled away a moment later, grinning at my brother. "Nice try, bro. It's nice to know how much you value our friendship."
James flashed her a fake, tired grin and slumped in his seat, ego sufficiently deflated. If not for my amusement, I probably would've felt bad. However, with his chestnut brown hair, smiling blue eyes and handsome features, he'd have no problem winning the heart of the other girls.
"Well, T and I are going out. Laters, James." Chrissy said, tugging at my arm.
My eyes widened. I never agreed to going out. The outside world was a big fat no for several reasons—one, I didn't like the cold; two, I was broke; and three, I ran the risk of having to mingle with strangers, which was never one of my strongest suits.
However, judging by the look Chrissy shot me, it wouldn't be wise to object. I allowed myself to be dragged, albeit somewhat reluctantly, towards the foyer, where I grabbed my winter boots and yanked them on, staring beneath lowered brows at my best friend.
"This counts as abuse, y'know." I grumbled, pulling the door open with more force than was necessary. "I'm like an awkward potato waddling in the company of actual humans!"
Chrissy skipped outside, grinning. "You're too tall to be a potato."
I was slightly offended that the only argument she could give was my height; however, knowing she wasn't exactly misguided, I fell into step behind her, silent. The world was hushed, hanging beneath the blanket of white, heavy clouds.
"Where are we going?" I asked, scuffing my shoes disconsolately, staring down at the grey, wet gravel beneath me.
"To Little Joe's. My treat." she said, knocking my elbow.
I tore my gaze from the floor, brightening at the mention of food. "Do they still do my veggie burger?"
Her eyes glinted. "Yep."
"Then let's go." I said, imbursed by food-induced excitement.
_______________________________________________________
We were sat eating, chatting animatedly about the new episode of Gotham, when my phone began to ring.
I looked down at my mobile, brows furrowed. The number was unfamiliar. It wasn't as if it was unusual to receive calls from unknown contacts but somehow, despite that, something felt...off. Something made the veggie burger in my stomach roil and thicken like tar; something made my heart slam once, twice, thrice against its bone walled prison; and something, no matter how much I tried to convince myself that it was okay, turned my thoughts to shards of ice. They bit into my mind, as hungry and wild and furious as wolves.
"Who is it?" Chrissy asked, peering over the table to get a better look.
My lips thinned. "I don't know. Just ignore it."
Without another word, I pressed decline and turned back to my half-eaten food, pushing it around my plate. It seemed...strange. It was eight o'clock in the evening—who would ring me now? Why not do it during the day, when I'd be more likely to pick up?
"So," continued Chrissy, eyeing the phone distractedly, "I thought that Bruce was a little—fuck, it's ringing again?"
I was hardly listening. All my attention was on the tiny, half-drained phone laid before me. The first time was weird enough. The second was enough to make me grab it with both hands, inspecting the number as it flashed on my screen.
"Give me a second." I mouthed to Chrissy, who replied with a nod.
With fingers that trembled with unwarranted dread, I accepted the call.
"James, if this is you I swear I will castrate—"
"Is this Miss Thea Matthews?"
My heart stuttered. My mind froze. Everything just...stilled.
"Yes." I said, voice wobbling. "And who are you?"
The deep, baritone voice of whoever was speaking filled the silence. "This is PC Evans of the West Yorkshire police, Thea. I'm calling to ask where you are—"
"What's happened?" I whispered, numb with fear. Why would a police officer be calling me? Why now? Why did he want to know where I was? Chrissy stared at me, eyes wide and curious.
The speaker paused. "Miss Matthews, I'm not sure this is a conversation you want to have over the phone. How about I dispatch a police officer to pick you up and we can—"
Not over the phone. Police car. Pick me up. Not over the phone. Police car. Pick me up.
"Tell me." it was like there was an iron fist clutching my windpipe, squeezing it until I could scarcely breathe. "Please."
"Miss Matthews...I'm so sorry, but your parents have been involved in a car crash. I'm afraid...I'm afraid that they didn't make it. And your—"
"My brother," I finished, each word slamming against me like a dull, dry blow. "What's happened to my brother?"
Chrissy's eyes widened. She reached for me. I turned away.
"Miss Matthews—"
I intervened, voice shrill and high, each word catching upon a hitched sob. "What the fuck has happened?"
"There was...I'm so sorry, Miss Matthews, but there was a fire at your home. Please just give me your location and I'll—"
I knew what he was about to say. I felt it. I felt the unspoken words whisper crudely across my skin, saw them flash in my mind, heard them echo in my ears like lyrics to the writhing beat of my heart.
"He's dead." my words were simple, ruthless, blunt.
The silence was taut, slamming like a whip down the line.
"...Yes. I'm sorry."
They're dead. Dead. Dead. Dead.
My heart began to race.
Chrissy grabbed my hand but it was too hot, too foreign, and ripples of disgust skittered down my nerves. I shot backwards with a guttural groan. The phone slipped from my hands.
Dead. Dead. Dead.
"Thea—"
But I was already falling, vision cleaved by a curtain of cold, comforting black.
Dead. Dead. Dead.
They were dead.
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