Page 1 of Nest Of Lies

Chapter one

Lia

Aurelia Raines aged 8.

I am flying, andit’s amazing, even better than the jelly and ice-cream that Francine got me when I was sick last year. No one said running could be so fun, I’ve never been able to move this fast. I feel like if I jump high enough, I might grow wings and soar off into the big blue sky. Like a bird. I want to be a bird just for today.

A thought presses in that Mama won’t be happy. I know I shouldn’t be doing this. It’s against all the rules, but it feels so good.

I let out a whoop, also against the rules, and jump high, and when I land, I laugh and run even faster. With another whoop, I run up the stairs and across the porch, ignoring the huge white mansion and all the rules that make me want to run and hide. I turn and dart back the other way. I jump down; the space is enormous, and for a moment, I really am flying.

I’ll never know if I was going to fall or not, but my mother’s voice cuts through the joy, sending dread through my tiny body. I miss a step as I land and tumble over and over, slamming into the gravel hard. The pain is instant and everywhere. Tears come to my eyes as I push myself up. I start to cry, then wail, as I stare down at my arm. It’s bending the wrong way.

I’m more freaked out than anything else. Freaked out about how Mama is going to yell at me. I sit there staring at it. The more I look, the more dizzy I feel.

Mama shouts for help. Staff pour out of the building, their faces creased in concern. Something must be really wrong with me. I cry louder.

The rush to the hospital is a blur of Mama screaming, pain, and tears.

“She’s broken her arm.” The grim faced doctor says with a lack of empathy that makes him sound cold and cruel. His hair is a grey cloud around his head, and his belly has rolls and breadcrumbs from his lunch.

“Oh, no, I knew this would happen.” My mama is so upset, which means I should be, too, right?

Is a broken arm terrible? Am I dying?

It feels awful. The pain is unlike anything I’ve ever felt. Maybe I am dying. I start to cry.

“I knew it.” Mama shouts and points at the doctor. “You told me not to worry, but I knew there was something wrong.”

“China, I think perhaps it would be best if we resumed your medication-”

“No need, Doctor, I’m fine. I just need to protect my child. No more running. No more outside.” Mama puts a hand on my shoulder and sniffs hard.

The doctor looks at me, and I shuffle on the seat. Have I done something wrong? He looks mad and almost sad, but I don’t understand. I glance up at Mama for direction, but her cheeks have those red spots, and her eyes are narrowed. I duck my head and try to appear really small.

Mama drags me out of the doctor’s office in silence. We get home, and I stand in the spot she likes me to stand in while she paces. My cast is heavy and feels terrible. But the pain killers are helping.

I don’t dare make a sound. I’ve never seen Mama like this before, but I know her temper well enough. If I just stay still and quiet, it won’t be so bad. She will forgive me, right?

She finally turns and crouches in front of me. My mama is the prettiest woman alive. She has yellow hair, the same eyes as me, and her lips are always painted a pretty colour. Right now, she’s frowning and looks angry. “Aurelia Raines, you are the most special little girl on the planet because you are the future of the Raines family. It’s a lot of responsibility, but I’m going to make you the best. And you know no one loves you the way I do, right?”

With a burst of fear, I nod, taking this seriously. “I love you, too, Mama and I want to be good for you,” I say in a squeak, hoping it’s the right words.

She purses her lips and then takes hold of my upper arms, holding me in place. Her grip tightens until my arm throbs, but I swallow the cries that want to come out.

“You can’t do things like that, Aurelia. No being stupid, no running and being silly. You have to be careful. You’re old enough now to understand.”

“Okay, Mama,” I whisper, cowed by the coldness of her voice and the grimness of the situation.

“There is something wrong with you. You’re sick.”

My entire world focuses on her and the words she’s saying. I’m sick? But I don’t feel sick. Mama stares at me. She wouldn’t lie to me.

“I’m sick?”

“You are sick, but don’t you worry, Mama is going to make sure nothing happens to you. I’m going to protect you. This sickness won’t get you. Mama’s here, and I’m going to take care of you.”

The relief I feel doesn’t even come close to eclipsing the fear, but Mama is here, right?

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