"Not all who are silent do not want to talk." ― Debasish Mridha
[Tardis]
High above the city of London, a big blue box tumbled across the night sky, spinning faster and faster. It flew over the Millennium Dome and the man dangling from the threshold, a strange pen-like device between his teeth, could be seen desperately trying to pull himself back inside. The box was heading straight for the Parliament Clock Tower, showing no sign of conveniently spinning out of the way, but the man pointed his strange pen device at the controls and the box changed course just in time. With a final heave, the man hauled himself back inside and shut the doors behind him, exhausted, as the box careered on its way.
[Bedroom]
A little red-haired girl sat watching her a darker haired, younger sister said her prayers at the edge of her bed.
"Dear Santa," the little sister started, the sweet lilt of Scottish brogue in her words. "Thank you for the dolls, and the pencils, and the paint. I know it's Easter now, s-so I hope I didn't wake you, but please, it is an e-mer-gen-cee," as she struggled through the big word, she cast a wary glance at her wall. "There's a crack in my wall," she whispered, shifting on her knees as they began to ache. "Aunty Sharon says it's just an ordinary crack, but I know it's not, because. . . because at night there's voices," her eyes squeezed shut, trying to convince herself that she couldn't hear the whispering starting up again. "Please, please, please, could you send someone to fix it? A fire-man, o-or a policeman, or-"
She stopped, interrupted by a strange wheezing sound outside, then a crash. The girl looked to her sister, who was already standing up and moving over to the window
"Back in a moment," the youngest girl whispered to Santa, grabbing a torch from her bedside table and hiding behind her sister as she peered out the window.
"W-what is it?" she asked timidly, handing the torch to the older girl.
"I don't know," the girl replied vaguely, shining a light into the garden. "Looks like. . . a box. In the shed."
The younger girl frowned to herself, nervously peering around her sister. She was right. In the old garden shed's place was now a big blue on its side, surrounded by steam and the remains of the old shed. Illuminated in bold text on its front, it said–
Police Public Call Box.
The little girl gasped, looking up at her smirking sister.
"Looks like you owe Santa a 'thank you'," the older girl said, before racing out of the room and thundering down the stairs.
After a moment's indecision, the little girl followed, but not before she paused and whispered to the empty room, "thank you."
[Garden]
Out in the garden, the little girl caught up with her sister, practically stepping on her heels in an attempt to stay as close to her as possible. Her sister rolled her eyes but allowed the comfort, slowing down as together they approach the smoking box, the younger girl a little more hesitant than her fiery sister.
They stopped, watching and waiting in an-tis-i-pay-shon for something to happen when bang! suddenly, the doors open outwards and a grappling hook flew out, narrowly missing them. Both girls jumped, the younger one latching on to the back of her sister's coat in fright.
There was a beat, and then a hand shot out grasped the ledge, and then another one and then, finally, out popped the soaking wet head of a man.
"Can I have an apple?" he asked, words breathy and tinged with exertion. "All I can think about. Apples. I love apples. Maybe I'm having a craving?" he asked excitedly. "That's new. Never had cravings before."
He started to clamber out, grunting and groaning, and sat on the ledge of the box's doors as he caught his breath and looked into the box.
Eyes widening, he whistled. "Whoa. Look at that."
"Are you okay?" Amelia – the older sister – asked uncertainty and somewhat dubiously. Her sister, who had fully hidden herself behind her when the man appeared, shyly peeked out from her sisters back.
The man shook his head – like he was clearing it of cobwebs – and grinned re-ashur-ingly at the two girls.
He looked a little crazy.
"Just had a fall. All the way down there, right to the library," he blew out an ex-ag-gerated breath. "Hell of a climb back up."
Amelia started at him sceptically.
"You're soaking wet."
He started rolling up his sleeves. "I was in the swimming pool."
"You said you were in the library," Amelia accused with a frown.
"So was the swimming pool."
Amelia rolled her eyes, but the younger sister tugged on her coat and whispered something in her ear. Dutifully, Amelia repeated it to the man.
"Are you a policeman?"
The man stopped fiddling with his sleeves and leaned forward from his perch, squinting suspiciously. "Why? Did you call a policeman?"
Amelia ignored his question.
"Did you come about the crack in my sister's wall?"
The younger girl flinched, and tugged more insistently on her sister's coat, whispering a distressed "Amelia!" as she attempted to hide even further behind her. The man hadn't said he was police, and she didn't want anyone who wasn't a trained pro-fe-shon-al to deal with the voices and the crack.
They could get hurt.
"What cra-aah ah!" the man cut himself off with a shout of pain, falling to the ground and clutching at his chest. "Agh!"
Amelia frowned down at the man in concern and her sister winced, sympathetically rubbing at her own chest. "Are you all right, mister?" Amelia asked.
The man waved away her worry, voice straining. "No, I'm fine. It's okay. This is all perfectly norm-" He cut off again, coughing and exhaling a breath of swirling, golden particles. It seemed it float in the air, slowly dispersing as it rose higher and higher.
It was mes-mer-i-sing.
"Who are you?" the younger girl whispered, finally speaking up. The man looked at her, bringing his hands up for inspection.
They started to glow with the same, golden particles. "I don't know yet," he said in a soft, excited voice. "I'm still cooking."
Amelia screwed up her face in confusion, but the wonder on his face and in his voice drew her little sister out from hiding her a little more.
"Does it scare you?" the man asked earnestly, still inspecting his hands.
"No," Amelia said in an obvious tone, "it just looks a bit weird."
Her sister once again whispered her name as a reprimand, but the man only smiled and clarified, eyes searching their faces for the answer. "No, no, no. The crack in the wall. Does it scare you?"
Amelia frowned more heavily, and her sister froze.
"Not re-"
"-yes," the younger quietly interrupted. Her sister looked at her sharply, but the little girl didn't care. She was des-per-ate. "C...c-can you f...fix the voices?"
The man grinned and from his knees, jumped up and landed on his feet, surprising the two girls. "Well then, no time to lose. I'm the Doctor. Do everything I tell you, don't ask stupid questions, and don't wander off." The man – or, well, the Doctor – gave the two a final grin and spun to the side, marching determinately to the house and smacking directly into a tree.
He collapsed to the ground and stayed there staring up at the sky.
"Are you all right?" the little sister asked timidly as Amelia shined the torch in his face.
"Early days," he said with a slight frown, embarrassment leaking in. "Steering's a bit off."
[Kitchen]
Not knowing what else to do, the two girls led the Doctor inside and to the kitchen, where Amelia passed him an apple. Her sister stayed on the other side of the room, quietly observing with a frown, the kitchen table firmly between them.
"If you're a doctor," Amelia asked him sceptically, "why does your box say Police?"
The Doctor stared at her, ignoring the question as he snatched the apple from her hand and took a pointedly massive bite from it, only to spit it out, bits narrowly missing Amelia. He coughed and gestured to them. "That's disgusting, what is that?"
Amelia stared at him.
"An apple."
"Apple's rubbish," the Doctor said flippantly. "I hate apples."
"You said you loved them," Amelia said, frowning in confusion.
"No, no, no," the Doctor said, shaking his head. "I like yoghurt. Yoghurt's my favourite. Give me yoghurt."
Amelia looked at him weirdly, but her little sister shyly complied, fetching a small pot from the fridge and slid it across the to him. He snatched that up, ripped of the seal off and poured the entire thing into his mouth and spat that out too.
"I hate yoghurt," he decided, passing Amelia the empty container. "It's just stuff with bits in."
"You said it was your favourite," she accused.
"New mouth," he waved away, messily wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked distractedly around the room. "New rules. It's like eating after cleaning your teeth. Everything tastes wr-ARGH!"
The Doctor started twitching and twisting violently, groaning in pain. It only lasted a few seconds, and it ended as he slapped a hand to his forehead – mocking as if he were checking his temperature.
"What is it?" Amelia asked, staring at him weirdly. "What's wrong with you?"
The Doctor looked at her indignantly and said, "Wrong with me? It's not my fault! Here I am soaking wet and you haven't even offered me a towel! You call yourself a gracious host?"
Amelia frowned at the Doctor, flushing slightly but moving past him to get out into the hall, leaving her little sister behind.
The Doctor winced, rubbing his chest as he looked around the kitchen again.
The little girl twisted her hands, wringing them almost painfully.
"Are you okay?" She asked him quietly, fighting the urge to clamp down hard on her tongue. "Like, really okay?"
The Doctor looked at her con-sid-er-ing-ly, hiding it with a smile while subtly dropping his hand from his chest.
"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm the King of fine," he said, waving around an arm before pausing and muttering to himself "okay, rubbish title," before continuing, "but the point still stands."
She bit her lip, holding back the tiny smile that wanted to break out at his words. However, the Doctor saw it and only grinned wider at her. "Now, what are you hiding behind there for? I'm not that scary, am I?"
He gestured to the table the little girl had made sure to put between them, and held his hand out to her.
She eyed it, frowning in con-tem-play-shon. It trembled slightly.
The little girl flinched violently, turning her head away and squeezing her eyes shut. She could hear the Doctor's surprise in the shuffling of his movement and the pause before speaking. "Hey now, what's that for?" He tried for an uplifting but soft voice, his feet shifting across the tiles to get closer to her. The little girl twitched, fists clenched tightly at her sides as she fought the need to run. "I'm not going to hurt you, I promise." Her breathing picked up with a sharp twinge and the Doctor started to move closer, but the little girl shook her head – eyes still clamped shut – in his direction. "S...st...s-tay there."
She wrestled with her lungs for control.
Finally, the sharp, twin pains sub-si-ded and the little girl could breath. She opened her eyes but didn't look at the Doctor, instead training them on her feet with flushed cheeks.
"None of that now," the Doctor said, quietly. "It's okay."
Unable to resist the itch to, the girl hesitated but looked up, blurry eyes peering cautiously through a curtain of auburn red hair. His eyes were filled with a kindness that seemed so solemn and gen-u-in – endless, like the depth of sea or the number of stars in the sky. There was a kindness in his smile too, a gentleness that had her head rise higher and shoulders lower slowly from their hunched position.
He feels. . . nice, she thought, warm. . . safe.
Glancing at him again, the corner of her mouth hesitantly twitched up.
"Ah ha-ha, there we go." The Doctor had leaned away from her to avoid crowding her, not wanting to upset the girl by getting too close again, but that didn't stop his kind smile from twisting into a grin. Amelia came back in that moment and instantly she started eyeing the two suspiciously, bringing the momentarily outstretched towel she'd brought back closer to her chest. "What did you do?" she aimed accusingly to the Doctor.
The little girl answered for him.
"N...n...noth-thing," she said quietly, the breath in her lungs stuttering out and hitching her words but still smiling shyly. "I...I-I'm okay." He smile became more aimed at the Doctor and Amelia, and satisfied after a long moment, her sister gave the Doctor the towel.
"Now," the Doctor said loudly after giving his hair a vig-or-us rub, clapping once for em-fa-sis, "why can't you give me any decent food?" Amelia's mouth dropped open in outrage. "You're Scottish. Fry something."
With a frown and an evil glare at the raggedy man, Amelia dutifully rummaged around until she found the frying pay, quickly gathering ingredients while the Doctor dried his hair more thoroughly. Her little sister shyly wrung her hands and sat at the table, awkwardly climbing into a seat before deciding to alternate between watching her sister and the Doctor.
He supressed a shiver at her unblinking gaze and, not wanting to admit to feeling, turned to the little girl's sister and grinned happily. "Ah, bacon!"
Amelia smiled, plated it and slid it over to him, watching smugly until the Doctor ate it then spat it back on to the plate.
"Bacon," he scowled, "That's bacon?" he paused, eyes squinting at Amelia suspiciously. "Are you trying to poison me?"
The older girls' offended expression caused her little sister to duck her head and hide a grin, once again watching through a curtain of hair as Amelia snatched up the plate, dumped the bacon in the bin and went about heating up a saucepan of baked beans.
"Ah, you see?" The Doctor said sagely to the little girl. "Beans."
She had a feeling he wouldn't like beans either.
She was right.
Amelia's smile once again vanished as the Doctor practically ran to the sink and spat it out.
"Beans are evil," he rasped. "Bad, bad beans."
The little girl giggled more openly now, legs reflexively swinging back and forth in time with her delight.
Amelia, confused and slightly desperate, tried once more to find him something that he wouldn't spit out and decided to make something simple.
"Bread and butter," he approved approvingly. "Now you're talking."
He barely took less than a bite before spitting that too back onto the plate and angrily marching out of the kitchen, leaving the two girls to listen as he threw the plate outside with a crash and yell "And stay out!"
The little girl bites down on her lip, holding in another giggle while Amelia nearly tore her hair out searching desperately through the fridge.
"We've got some carrots?" she suggested half-heartedly to the Doctor as he marched back inside.
"Carrots?" he repeated incredulously, moving to look through the fridge himself. "Are you insane? No. Wait. Hang on. I know what I need. I need, I need, I need. . . fish fingers and custard.
•|•
The Doctor looked upon his haul with a great grin, eagerly dipping a fish finger into the bowl of custard and practically shoving it in his mouth. He smacked his lips in appreciation, Amelia observing with a faintly disgusted expression and her little sister curiously examining the Doctor's bizarre combination. She gnawed the inside of her cheek, twisting her fingers together and tentatively raising her eyes to the Doctor's imploringly. Faced with the – ridiculously – adorable expression, relented with an exaggerated sigh and "alright".
She grinned shyly and nibbled at the custard abomination, humming her approval.
"Yeah," the Doctor said smugly, "who da best?"
Amelia rolled her eyes when her sister giggled, though she did find it nice to finally hear sounds of happiness out of her. Despite running her around the place in search for 'acceptable' food, she was at least glad the strange man had somehow gotten her sister to smile – too often lately she wasn't.
The little girl wilted slightly, frowning down at the table he Doctor finished the last of his fish fingers and picked up the custard bowl, tipping his head back and slurping noisily.
"Funny," Amelia remarked instead voicing her inner thoughts.
"Am I?"
Her sister nodded slightly, still nibbling on her fish finger.
"Good," the Doctor said decisively. "Funny's good. What's your names?"
The oldest sister dug her spoon into the tub of ice cream, shoving a large scoop into her mouth and speaking around it. "Amelia Pond."
"Oh, that's a brilliant name. Amelia Pond," he repeated, putting a strangely soft emphasis on her last name. "Like a name in a fairy tale. What about you?"
He nodded his head to the younger girl, who hid her face in her dark auburn hair. She didn't speak.
"Emily," Amelia eventually offered to the awkward silence. "Her name's Emily. She doesn't speak much."
The little girl – Emily – seemed to disappear further behind her curtain of hair.
"Ah, that's alright. You know what they say about quiet people. . ."
The two girls waited for him to finish the sentence, but he just stared at them expectantly.
"What do they say about quiet people?" Amelia prompted.
The Doctor shrugged carelessly. "No idea!" he dismissed, and clapped his hands. "Are we in Scotland?"
"No," Amelia grumbled, dejected. "We had to move to England. It's rubbish."
The Doctor nodded empathetically, although he personally found England quite brilliant. "So, what about your mum and dad, then? Are they upstairs?" He looked around curiously, as if they'd casually pop out from a dark corner and say hello. "Thought we'd have woken them by now."
"We don't have a mum and dad – just an aunt."
"I don't even have an aunt."
"You're lucky," Emily nodded slightly to her sister's words; their aunt wasn't the worst, she just. . . didn't understand.
"I know," the Doctor intoned. "So, your aunt, where is she?"
"Out."
"And she left you all alone?"
Amelia bristled, biting out "we're not scared," while her sister stared down at the table.
Being alone wasn't the problem.
The Doctor narrowed his eyes and said loudly; "Of course, you're not. You're not scared of anything. Box falls out of the sky, man falls out of a box, man eats fish custard, and look at you two, just sitting there," he leaned in, speaking softer. "So you know what I think?"
Emily stiffened, grey eyes leaping up to find the Doctor already looking at her.
"Must be a hell of a scary crack in your wall."
[Bedroom]
Amelia determinately led the Doctor to her sister's room, the girl in question trailing behind them as slowly as possible. The crack was above her desk, about three to four feet long, and slightly w shaped. Every time she went to bed, it was all she could see.
All she could hear.
She once again took to hiding behind her sister, hand clasped on her cloak, refusing to look up.
The Doctor looked around the room before his gaze was drawn to the offending wall. "You've had some cowboys in here," he said before pausing and reconsidering to himself. "Not actual cowboys, though that can happen."
Despite the tough exterior Amelia put up for her little sister, the room did actually creep her out, though she tried not to show it. "I used to hate apples," she said, focusing on the apple she'd swiped from the kitchen and nervously carving at it with her nails, "so my mum put faces on them."
After a moment of staring at it, she offered the Doctor the apple and he gently took it.
"She sounds good, your mum. I'll keep it for later," he said softly, tossing it in the air once before dropping it into his ruined pants' pocket. He glanced between the two girls – so young – and turned his attention back to the problem, manoeuvring himself over the desk against the wall and running his hand along the crack. "This wall is solid, and the crack doesn't go all the way through it. So, here's a thing – where's the draught coming from?"
He abruptly stepped away from the wall and pulled out a strange tube, the tip lighting up blue and emanating a unearthly buzz as he waved it at the wall.
"Wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey," he muttered, briefly examining the metal tube before returning to the wall. "You know what the crack is?"
Amelia swallowed, grabbing her sister hand to comfort her as she started breathing faster; ". . what?"
"It's a crack – but I'll tell you something funny; if you knocked this wall down, the crack would stay put, because the crack isn't in the wall."
"Where is it then?"
"Everywhere – in everything. It's a split in the skin of the world," he got real close to the crack, dancing his fingers along the line. "Two parts of space and time that should never have touched, pressed together right here in the wall of your bedroom," he pressed his ear closer, "sometimes, can you hear. . .?"
"A voice?" Amelia finished, "No, but that what Emily keeps saying."
A low, rumbling growl travelled through the room, vibrating the floorboards and up their spines, causing raised hairs and goosebumps. The little girl squeezed her eyes shut, the grip on her sister's hand bone crushing. The Doctor rushed to Emily's bedside to grab her glass of water, carelessly emptying it over his shoulder and placing it to his ear and over the crack.
"Prisoner Zero has escaped."
". . .prisoner zero–?"
"–has escaped," whispered a tiny voice.
The Doctor looked back at the previously mute little girl. She was still hiding behind her sister, pressed closely and hunched in on herself, hair an impenetrable barrier of red – but pale eyes were looking at him, scared but hopeful in a way the Doctor had only seen children express. She said nothing else, but there was no need – hers was a language the Doctor was well versed in.
Amelia looked expectantly between her sister and the raggedy man. "What does it mean?" she demanded.
"Prisoner Zero has escaped."
"It means," he said heavily, "that on the other side of this wall, there's a prison and they've lost a prisoner. You know what that means?"
"What?"
"You need a better wall," he told them, immediately setting about moving Emily's desk away from the wall. "The only way to close the breach is to open it all the way. The forces will invert, and it'll snap itself shut. Or–" he stopped, brain catching up with his mouth.
"What?" Emily asked, voice shaking and wide eyed, face tilting up more as she tried to get a better look at the Doctor without leaving the safety of her hair.
He frowned, about to speak, but took a moment to actually look at the two terrified children and thought better of it, "You know when grown-ups tell you everything's going to be fine and you think they're probably lying to make you feel better?" he said casually.
Both girls made sounds of acknowledgement, Amelia hiding her fear behind irritation.
"Everything's going to be fine."
The Doctor faced the wall, holding a hand for one of the girls to take. Emily, though looking more reassured, didn't move an inch, so Amelia took his hand for the both of them. The Doctor sent them a grin and aimed the glowing, noisy tube at the crack and pressed the button. Almost immediately a low hiss and rumbled began, growing louder while the crack started glowing, white light spilling out and flooding the bedroom as the crack impossibly widen until all that was left was a gaping black cavern.
The room was silent for a moment, occupants barely daring to breathe when–
"Prisoner Zero has escaped. Prisoner Zero has escaped."
"Hello?" the Doctor called out, tentatively stepping closer as the two girls peered around him, "Hello?"
Quicker than Emily could track, a giant blue eye dropped into view, scaring them as it jerkily looked this way and that before focusing solely on them.
"What's that?" Amelia asked, dumbfounded and staring in disbelief. There was a moment of tense silence, where the eye appeared to size up the Doctor before a bolt of blueish light flashed towards, the force of it causing him to double over. Just like that, the crack closed in a similar display of light as the Doctor stumbled onto Emily's bed and the two girls startled closer as if to help.
"There, you see?" the Doctor said somewhat smugly, rummaging around in his pockets. "Told you it would close. Good as new."
"What's that thing?" Amelia demanded – Emily was still staring wide eyed at the now normal wall. "Was that Prisoner Zero?"
"No," he said thoughtfully with a slight frown, "I think that was Prisoner Zero's guard. Whatever it was, it sent me a message," he held up a black, inconspicuous wallet. "Psychic paper. Takes a lovely little message."
Emily dragged her attention away from the wall to instead watch the Doctor read the glowing blue message off the wallet.
"Prisoner Zero has escaped," he repeated softly, looking up and around the room as he thought. "But why tell us?" he paused, standing up, "Unless. . ."
"Unless what?" Amelia – who was getting quite tired of constantly asking – asked.
Still scanning the room, brain working overtime, the Doctor continued softly and slowly; "unless Prisoner Zero escaped through here. But he couldn't have. We'd know."
Almost immediately after saying this, the Doctor rushed out of the room and into the hall, stopping, head turning, unable to decide between the stairs going up, the door across the way or the two at the far end where the staircase went down again. Amelia dragged her sister after him.
"It's difficult," he said to the two girls. "Brand new me. Nothing works yet. But there's something I'm missing," he slowed down and began to turn his head to right, "in the corner. . of. . my . . . eye."
Emily followed his line of vision and shivered, once again turning in to her sister in an effort to hide. She didn't like the door at the end of the hall – it scared her more than the crack.
Right when the Doctor was about to move towards the end of the hall, from the garden the Tardis cloister bells sounded and the timelord startled.
"No, no, no," he chanted, despairing as he raced down the hall and down the stairs, "no, no, no, no, no, no, no!"
[Garden]
He raced out the back door and into the garden, Amelia trying to keep up behind him while dragging Emily along with her. "I've got to get back in there" he yelled, already working on gathering up the grappling hook from its tether. "The engines are phasing. It's going to burn!"
"But it's just a box," Amelia protested to the frantic man. " How can a box have engines?"
The Doctor stopped, frowning at her, "It's not a box. It's a time machine."
"What – a real one? You've got a real time machine?" Amelia demanded disbelievingly. Emily, who was standing a little further behind her sister – no longer attached to her side in fear of being dragged off again – now looked at the Doctor in awe.
"Not for much longer if I can't get her stabilised," the timelord explained, now fastening the rope around the doors of the tipped over blue box. "Five-minute hop into the future should do it."
". . . can we come?"
"Not safe in here," he dismissed almost immediately, climbing up on to the ledge. "Not yet. Five minutes – give me five minutes, I'll be right back."
"People always say that." Emily whispered. Amelia frowned at her sister, reaching back to pull her closer and lay an arm around her shoulder in comfort. The Doctor paused, looking at the two girls and almost immediately hoped back down.
"Am I people?" he asked them. "Do I even look like people?" there was a quiet humour in his old eyes. "Trust me. I'm the Doctor."
"Promise?" Emily softly insisted, sad, grey eyes imploring under a frown too heavy for her age.
The Doctor crouched in front of the young girl and held his hands for her to take. Her breathing picked up and she swallowed, but she grit her teeth and allowed him to hold her shaking hands in his steady ones, eyes determinedly trained on his face as he sympathetically ignored the way her tremble worsened on contact.
"I will come back for you. I promise."
He grinned suddenly, dropping her hands and tapping her nose before running back to his blue box and jumping up to sit on the ledge. He gave the girls one last wide smile and dropped down into the Tardis.
"Geronimo!"
There was a splash as the doors closed and the Tardis gradually faded and disappeared. Emboldened by his promise, Amelia and Emily ran back to their room, collecting their suitcases from underneath their beds and started packing. As Amelia ran back down the stairs, she failed to notice the door at the end slowly inch open – Emily however, paused in front of the door, dread that felt like acid pooling in her stomach. Feeling sick, she ran down the stairs after her sister with one last glance at the door.
Both girls, dressed in a duffel coat and woolly hat, sat on their suitcases in the garden and waited.
And waited.
And waited.
Amelia fell asleep after the third hour, but Emily stayed vigilant and placed her coat around her sister to give her extra warmth.
She was still there in the morning, awake, when their Aunt found them. She refused to even budge from her seat, even though she was cold, tired and slightly wet. Not even when her Aunt tried to drag her back to the house.
She wouldn't move an inch.
Because the Doctor was coming back. He promised.
He promised.
So, she waited.
And waited.
And waited.
. . . . But he didn't come back.
•|•
Why do you think Emily flinches away from contact?
Is there a specific reason?
Why could only Emily hear the voice?
Some answers will be present in the next chapter.
Probably.
Most likely.
I'm like 75% sure.
COMPLETELY AND OFFICALLY EDITIED 26/10/2020. I had previous done a little spell check before now, but I've now gone through and revamped A LOT of the actual writing (and made sure all the tenses are the same, but don't worry - all details are essentially the same, just written better) . If you like how this now reads, then good! I will be slowly editing the rest of the book to match, but I've only done this chapter, so please be patient and give this a chance.
- meg