Page 101 of Until Now

I snatch my phone from beneath a pillow—Archer’s pillow.Notwhere I left it.

‘Hey,’ I say. At least, I try to. My voice sounds hoarse to my own ears, and my words scrape up my throat. I gather my feet beneath me, haul myself up, even though each step is wobbly. I dart to the mirror and wince at the angry red slash. I massage it and try again. ‘Hi. Everything okay?’

‘Oh, Frankie.’ My dad sounds relieved, and my chest clenches. ‘I was so worried,’ he goes on. ‘I got a call to say you weren't in school, and when I saw you weren’t in your room, I nearly called your mother—‘

‘Yeah, sorry. I was just with Archer.’ His name is acidic in my mouth.

A pause. ‘Where are you now?’ he asks.

Usually, I’d be annoyed my dad phoned to check up on me, but now I want to savour it, the sound of his voice. Knowing his days are probably numbered—

I clench the phone tighter as everything crashes into me. I stagger onto the bed from the force of it and bite my fist to quiet my sobs, but nothing can hide the thickness in my voice.

‘Still at Archer’s,’ I answer.

‘Frankie.’ His tone deepens, and it’s the same tone he used when I was little, when I smashed the living room table with a hoover attachment and blamed it on our dog, Bruno. ‘Why are you upset?’

‘I’m not.’ I sniffle. ‘It’s just stupid hayfever.’ Never had it.

‘You know I'm black belt in karate, kiddo.’

I laugh. ‘You’re still seventy-nine, Dad.’ I bite my lip. ‘I was just about to leave, actually. But I’m getting the bus so I won’t be home for a couple hours. Bus times are every hour now.’

‘Chase says he’ll come and pick you up.’

I sputter. ‘No, he doesn’t need to—‘

‘He’s just left.’

‘Then grab him and tell—‘

‘See you soon, kiddo.’ The line ends.

I stare at my phone.

‘Shit. Shit.’

Chase can’t come here. He can’t see me like this. One glance at me and he’ll know something’s up.

It’ll take him fifteen minutes. Maybe I can leave before he gets here. It’s not like Archer will answer the door to him.

I’m not sure why that makes me relieved.

Suddenly I remember I’m completely naked, so I rush to clothe—only I can’t seem to find them. It’s like a fog casts over my mind, and a small, nagging part of me knows my clothes aren’t even in this room, but Archer’s hand is still around my throat and I still can’t breathe—

The bathroom!

I shrug on his toothpaste-spattered dressing gown, and the smell of it makes my limbs freeze up, but I force myself to move. My clothes reek of damp, but they’ll have to do. I have bigger things to worry about—like Chase finding me and demanding to know who gave me this mark on my throat.

My hands tremble as I dress, and when my shoes fall from my fingers for the third time, I swear at them before finally shoving them on. I don’t even bother to tie my laces; my eyes are fixed on that door.

He could return any minute, and I can’t be here when he does.

I make it downstairs without being noticed. I’m not even sure if his mum is still here, but then I spot a lipstick-stained wine glass on the kitchen island, and I put on a burst of speed.

Arsed with running intoherright now.

It’s dark out; I feel my way towards the gate, my palms skimming over the metal of the cars in the driveway, and I careen into the street, my legs pumping—

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