by CJ Bridgeman
When Felicity arrived, Hollie and Jamie were slumped miserably over the table in the massive kitchen, wearing expressions that did not reflect the joyous nature of the day.
“Thank God you’re here, Fliss,” Hollie said when she saw her.
“Why?” Felicity asked. “What’s wrong?”
“Don’t ask,” Jamie said. “You do not want to know what kind of day we’ve had. Seriously.”
“It was terrible!” Hollie suddenly cried. “Firstly, Mum invited her horrible boyfriend, who ate all of the chocolate fingers. All of them! They’re my favourite,” she added sadly. “And then she started ripping into the presents that Dad got us, saying that they were crap, that he hadn’t put any thought into them, blah blah blah...”
Jamie looked at his sister and sighed.
“Was it really that bad?” Felicity asked.
“You have no idea,” Hollie groaned. “She wouldn’t stop badmouthing Dad. It only got worse when the karaoke party started.”
“Karaoke?”
“She alway does karaoke when she’s had too much to drink,” Jamie explained. “And she always sings that D.I.V.O.R.C.E song.”
“Very badly,” Hollie added. She threw herself down on the table with a loud groan. “This is the worst Christmas ever,” she moaned with her face down, causing her voice to come out muffled.
“We shouldn’t have expected anything else. It’s the same every year,” Jamie said with a hopeless shrug. “At least we managed to escape.”
Hollie snorted. “Mum didn’t even notice. She was too drunk.”
Felicity didn’t talk about her morning, for she feared that it would sound incredibly insignificant to the chaos at the Clarke household. She didn’t mention that her father had put up a three foot tree and haphazardly flung some tinsel over it. She didn’t tell them that he had given her a cheap gift that she loved, and so embroiled were they with their own affairs that they didn’t ask, which suited Felicity just fine.
Suddenly and decisively, Hollie got up from the kitchen table and began raiding the cupboards of her father’s kitchen, eventually returning with a couple of bottles. “I’ve decided that I’m not gonna have a crappy Christmas,” she said, and placed the bottles on the table.
Jamie rolled his eyes. “So you want to be just like Mum?”
“Well, at least she’s having a good time!” Hollie exclaimed, and looked at Felicity. “Come on, Fliss, what do you say? Fancy a drink?”
Felicity looked from the wine bottles to Hollie, who had a desperate, pleading look in her eyes. She shrugged her shoulders.
“Brilliant!” Hollie cried excitedly.
It didn’t take the three of them long to finish the two bottles of wine. Hollie showed them a drinking game that she had seen her mother play when she had friends over and thought Hollie was in bed. It consisted of drinking a shot glass full wine as a forfeit, though, as Hollie explained, it was supposed to be vodka. But she hated vodka, and wine was the only other alternative. Jamie was particularly bad at the game. Several shot glasses and wine bottles later, the three of them found themselves sitting in the front lounge, giggling and grinning much more than usual.
Felicity had never had alcohol before, and though she drank the least out of all of them, she could feel the effects almost instantly. Her eyes found it difficult to focus and it soon became a challenge just to walk in a straight line, so she avoided it and settled on the sofa instead. Hollie sat next to her, still clutching a glass full of wine, whilst Jamie sat on the floor with his back resting against an armchair.
“You should have seen his face,” Hollie was saying, though it was hard to understand her between the giggles. “I thought he was gonna cry.”
Jamie looked hurt. “Well, I’d never been sent out of a lesson before. And I was only twelve!”
“Why did she send you out?” Felicity asked, grinning widely.
“Oh, oh! That’s the best part,” Hollie said, shuffling on the sofa to face Felicity. “He got sent out for talking, right -”
“But everyone was talking!” Jamie cried defensively.
Hollie ignored him. “The teacher said that it was because...” She paused deliberately. “He was the closest!” With the revelation made public, she rolled back on the sofa, laughing wildly and spilling her wine.
“Careful!” Jamie reprimanded her, sitting up to examine the floor for drops of fluid. “Dad’ll be pissed if you stain the carpet.”
Hollie pointed at her brother. “You see?” she said to Felicity. “He’s such an old man. Here, bro, I think you need some more wine -” And she promptly began filling Jamie’s glass.
“You callin’ me an old man?” Jamie asked, slurring his words slightly. “Well at least I didn’t go to the toilet in my toy box!”
Hollie’s eyes widened and she threw a cushion at Jamie, who fell over backwards.
“And I wasn’t the one who couldn’t hold my bladder on the school trip, either!” Jamie declared.
“You absolute swine!” Hollie screamed, launching more cushion missiles at Jamie. “We were at primary school!”
Jamie tried to defend himself from the attack and managed to catch Felicity’s eye. “She totally wet herself, you know. Had to borrow a fresh pair of knickers from a friend!”
“Jamie!” Hollie cried.
Jamie then proceeded to act out the embarrassing scene in an overly dramatic way, complete with sound effects and a surprisingly good impersonation of his sister. Both girls fell over themselves in laughter. When they finally recovered, Hollie turned to Felicity.
“So Fliss,” she said. “Do you have any funny school stories to share?”
“Yeah, I don’t think you’ve ever told me anything about your school,” Jamie said. “Wasn’t it an all girls’ school?”
“Ignore that loser,” Hollie said. “He’s just a gross pervert.”
“Hey,” Jamie protested weakly.
“Uh.” Felicity had lost her drink-induced joy and her smile had faded. She stared at her glass of wine. “I, uh, don’t really have any stories to tell.”
“Oh come on,” Hollie persisted. “It was a boarding school. There must have been loads of cool stuff that happened when you were all in dorms together.”
“You were all in dorms together?” Jamie asked, his interest piqued.
“Ew!” Hollie groaned, jabbing her brother in the ribs.
“There really isn’t anything to tell,” Felicity insisted. “It was really strict. We wouldn’t have got away with locking teachers in cupboards and faking sick notes.”
“Yeah, but the teachers weren’t there all the time, were they?” Hollie asked. “Come on, Fliss. You can tell us. We swear it won’t go beyond these four walls. Don’t we, Jamie?”
Felicity tried to concentrate but her head felt fuzzy. She was torn, as ever, between opening up to the only friends she had ever had and keeping herself to herself, which was what had kept her going for the last ten years or so. A couple of hours ago habit would have been victorious.
But things were different now that two or three bottles of wine had been drained.
“I don’t have anything to tell because I, uh... I didn’t have any friends.”
There was a pause. Hollie and Jamie exchanged glances before Hollie said: “I don’t believe that, Fliss -”
“No, no, it’s true,” Felicity continued. “I didn’t have any friends and I... I didn’t have any fun.” She regarded Hollie and Jamie. Both of them were staring at her with their eyes wide, and their penetrating gazes made Felicity want to sink into the sofa and disappear. Instead, she gulped down her entire glass of wine. “I was alone,” she said quietly, staring at the floor. “I wanted to make friends. I tried to make friends. But my mum, she - she never taught me how, so I didn’t know what to say or how to act, so I never made any.”
She looked at Hollie and Jamie. “But you,” she said, her eyes welling up with tears and her voice overflowing with emotion. “You two have been so nice to me, and I di
dn’t think I wanted to be your friend but you wouldn’t stop trying to be my friend and now I’m glad because - because - because I really like you both.” She let out a sigh and hung her head.
Hollie held her hand over her heart. “Oh em gee, Fliss,” she said “That was... beautiful.”
Felicity looked up. “Really?”
Hollie nodded, and then she moved towards Felicity and they embraced, clinging to one another like survivors of a shipwreck and becoming one shaking, sobbing mess. Jamie looked on, staring at the two of them in disbelief, and then he rolled his eyes.
“Girls shouldn’t get drunk,” he muttered to himself, and then he took a swig of wine straight from the bottle.
The air grew colder, the sky grew darker and the three friends finally succumbed to the drowsiness that began to creep over them, falling asleep whilst watching White Christmas. Empty wine bottles and crisp packets littered the floor. Felicity and Hollie were huddled beneath a blanket at either end of the sofa, whilst Jamie was snoozing on the armchair. All three of them had somewhere else they were supposed to be, but the drink had dampened their sense of responsibility and clouded their awareness of the time.
None of them stirred when the front door of the house clicked open and someone came inside. The footsteps upon the black and white tiles in the hallway were silent, as if the owner was simply drifting over them. They didn’t wake up when the intruder entered the lounge where they were all sleeping and peer into the gloom, searching for something.
When a strong hand clasped itself tightly over Hollie’s mouth, she noticed. Her eyes snapped open.
“Where’s Felicity?”
The voice came from the shadowy figure looming above her. Unable to scream, Hollie stared in a wide-eyed panic. She tried to struggle but couldn’t move. The intruder raised his other hand and began to reach towards her, and as Hollie watched she was stunned to see it burst into flame.
There was a thudding noise and the fire vanished. With a grunt, the stranger fell forwards, landing limp and heavy on top of Hollie. She squealed and pushed him to the floor. In the dim light, she saw Jamie standing there, holding one of the empty wine bottles.
“Get the hell away from my sister,” he breathed.
7.
Hollie’s scream woke Felicity with a start. She flung the blanket to one side just as Jamie turned the lights on, and was shocked when she saw the body lying face down on the carpet.
“Oh my God, Jamie, you’ve killed him! You’ve killed him!” Hollie squeaked frantically.
Jamie stared down at the motionless figure, whose long coat and hood covered him almost completely. He still held the wine bottle in his hand, and was clinging onto it so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. His face, painted in an expression of horror, was a similar colour.
“Did you see what he did?” he gasped.
“Of course I saw what he did!” Hollie exclaimed. “He was about to strangle me - with hands that were on fire, by the way!”
“On fire?” Felicity sprung from the sofa.
“Actual fire!” Hollie cried. “How did he do that?”
“But... who is he?”
The three of them stared down at the intruder. It was impossible to tell if he was even male, though they kept on referring to him as such. They all knew that there would be only one way to confirm his identity.
“Alright,” Jamie said, straightening. “I’ll do it.”
Handing the wine bottle to Hollie, he pushed up his sleeves and approached the intruder slowly and hesitantly, as if expecting him to jump up at any given moment. Nervously and with shaking hands, he pushed him onto his back.
All of them recognised the face, but it was Jamie who spoke first. “Oliver.”
“Oliver?!” Hollie exclaimed. “But - what is he doing here? And how did he - that fire - just what is going on?”
Felicity felt an icy tremor in the pit of her stomach as soon as she saw Oliver’s face. Suddenly she knew that her encounter with him several months ago had been real - he had conjured some kind of shining orb that night, just as he had now tried to harm Hollie with hands that spouted fire.
“We need to call the police,” Hollie was saying, clutching her Blackberry.
“And tell them what?” Jamie hissed at her, snatching the phone from her hands. “That we just accidentally killed an ex-student who tried to attack you with his flamethrower hands?”
“I don’t know! But we have to do something!”
Felicity was still staring at Oliver. She shook her head. “He’s not dead.”
The twins ceased their arguing and looked at her.
She pointed at him. “Look. He’s breathing.”
She was right. Oliver’s chest was slowly but surely moving steadily up and down with each breath he took.
“Oh my God, oh my God,” Hollie breathed as she looked at Oliver. It was clear that she was finding it difficult to breathe. She began clumsily fanning herself with her hands. “I can’t deal with this. I just can’t!”
There was something about the way in which her friend had descended into a mode of utter panic that kept Felicity calm, although she felt absolutely terrified. Stepping between Oliver’s outstretched limbs, she approached Hollie and took her by the shoulders.
“Hollie, listen to me,” she said firmly, though her voice was still shaking. “You have to calm down.”
Hollie nodded vigorously, her eyes locked on Oliver. She tried taking deeper breaths and kept shifting her weight from her left foot to her right and back again, as if she was unable to remain still. At last, she sank down onto the sofa. “What are we gonna do?” she asked weakly.
“We can’t take this to the police,” Jamie decided, shaking his head.
“We can’t leave him there, either,” Felicity said.
“No, we can’t.” Jamie appeared to think for a moment, and then he moved towards Oliver and hooked his arms underneath his.
Hollie watched him. “What are you doing?”
Jamie began to drag Oliver out of the lounge. “I’m taking him down to the cellar.”
“The cellar?!” Hollie exclaimed, jumping to her feet. “Are you serious? What for?”
“Look,” Jamie said adamantly. “If you want to call the police, or Mum or anyone else and tell them that we just had a fire breathing maniac attack us in our sleep, then do it. But I won’t. I’m not going to get locked up in prison or the mental hospital. I’m taking him down to the cellar, and when he wakes up I’m going to ask him why he broke into my house and tried to strangle my sister. Alright?”
For a moment, Felicity watched as Jamie struggled to carry Oliver out of the room, and then it was her turn to make a decision. She moved forward and took hold of Oliver’s heavy legs.
“Fliss?!” Hollie cried in disbelief, and then she shook her head. “This is crazy. Crazy!”
She proceeded to follow her brother and friend down to the cellar, unable to cease her seemingly endless vocalisation of her fears, worries and anxieties. Felicity and Jamie ignored her, though both of them felt just as nervous and scared. When they got to the base of the cellar steps, they found a chair and some rope and began to tie Oliver to a large pipe that ran along one of the walls.
Hollie stared open-mouthed. “You’re tying him up?”
“Well, do you want him to sling another fireball at you?” Jamie asked irritably.
“I just think this is silly. Tying someone up in our cellar -”
“We all know what you think, Hollie,” Jamie said. “You haven’t stopped going on about it.”
After that, Hollie was quiet. Felicity watched as Jamie tied a tight, complex knot in the rope to secure Oliver’s hands, eager to avoid any more strange happenings. Then the three of them stood back and stared.
The cellar was silent. Oliver was still unconscious, and they noticed a thin line of blood trickling from his forehead, presumably from where Jamie had struck him with the wine bottle. His upper body slumped forward.
Sev
eral minutes passed. Jamie began to pace the cellar aimlessly. Hollie sat down on an old bench and hugged her arms tightly around her chest. Felicity sat next to her, staring intently at Oliver and trying to take in all that happened that evening. She felt sorry for Hollie, for she had been the victim this time, and quite understood her panic though she did not share it. She unintentionally imagined Oliver’s hands clapped across her own mouth and instantly tried to shake the image from her mind.
“Do you think we should throw some water on his face or something?” Jamie suddenly asked in a quiet voice, breaking the silence.
Felicity looked at him. “You want to wake him up?”
“We should do that thing,” Hollie suggested. “You know, the thing they do on TV. They make them smell something and it always makes them wake up -”
“Those are smelling salts, genius,” Jamie said, his voice oozing with sarcasm. “And we don’t have any.”
“Well, I’m sorry!” Hollie declared dramatically. “I’ve never tied a person up in my cellar before, so forgive me for not knowing what smelling salts are!”
Jamie shook his head in irritation.
When all was silent again, Felicity spoke. “What if he... you know...” she murmured.
They stared.
“I tied his hands pretty tight,” Jamie said. “I don’t think he’ll be able to...” His voice trailed off, for none of them had yet found a suitable word or phrase to describe exactly what Oliver had tried to do.
Hollie sighed, running her fingers gently over her face. “I think he left a mark,” she said, and turned to Felicity. “Did he leave a mark?”
He hadn’t, and Felicity told her so.
