A lava flow of anger surges through me. Using my mental health to cover her lies… How could she?
Mom rolls on red lipstick. Her light brown skin and afro shimmer in the light, along with her navy sequined robe.
“I’m tired of the secrets and manipulation!” I yell. “You took away my pain, my memories. You had no right!”
She slams her lipstick on the vanity and glares at me, nostrils flaring. “I didn’t do it. But if I did, I had every right.” Mom’s eyes flash. “Everything I’ve done has been to protect you! If you want to wallow in anger, be my guest. But you better watch your tone when you talk to me, girl. And don’t you dare accuse me of anything, when all I’ve done is sacrifice for you.”
She crosses her legs. “You want truth? Let’s have some. We can start with you telling me where the hell you were while you were ripping and running all day. Had us all about to stop doing our show because we were concerned about you while you were well enough to go playing grand theft auto with my Bentley. Claiming you were at Ariella’s house. I went looking for you because you were gone so long. The car wasn’t there. Neither were you. And your best friend… she’s a terrible liar. Where were you, Emma?”
Her deflection and denials hit me like a slap. I should lie to her, too. Or maybe I should make her madder by telling her the truth. Let her see how that tastes. But if I did, she and Gran might blame Ariella. Or knock the teeth out of my mouth. I want to scream my rage, my betrayal, but instead, I choke on sobs. How can I stay with a family I can’t trust? I turn and run from the tent.
The cool night air whips against my tearstained cheeks and makes a hurricane of my curls. I dash past Demetri, his colorful skating poodles and crowds of onlookers. How could Mom deny manipulating my memories? She violated me without consent, and she has the nerve to be mad at me for taking the car to someplace different than where I said I was going.
A sob hitches in my throat as carnivalgoers in bell-bottoms and paisley-print fabrics pass by me. I want to curl up on the dirt and cry till I’m hoarse. Cry for Grace, for my broken family, for the lies and secrets that have unraveled my universe. I can’t even run to Ariella, because my family will go to her house looking for me. I’ve never felt so lost, so alone, so distant from my family. Unsure of what else to do, I get back in the Bentley and leave. Again.
Dear Malcolm,
I’m running away. I’m so hurt and betrayed by this family that I can’t breathe. I need space from them. I’m terrified about what’s next, but staying home feels like a death sentence. I’m exhausted from their lies and manipulation, from the brutal trainings, from feeling like my heart is dying.
More than anything, I need to be with you. I know it’s a lot to ask, but if you could sneak away for a little while, I really need to see you. Please. Let’s find a place where we can be happy. And if you come with me, we can spend almost all our time trying to end the Tether, together.
By the time you read this, I’ll be gone. The danger to my mental and emotional health is too great for me to stay home anymore.
If the Tether takes me and I never see my family again, I can accept that. But I can’t accept the thought of leaving without seeing you. Please come meet me. If you feel the same way about me as I do about you, maybe you’ll want to leave with me. Meet me at the place and time scribbled on the bottom of the page. In Georgia. 1903. Please.
With timeless affection,
Emma
I drive to Georgia, leaving the world I knew behind. The stolen Bentley hums a steady rhythm, but my broken heart is anything but calm. The weight of my decision smothers me, the uncertainty gnawing at my belly.But a spark of hope flickers in my chest—Malcolm. The thought of being with him again is the only thing keeping me going.
When I arrive at the meeting spot, he’s there. Malcolm, devoted as ever, has traveled through time to see me. Relief and overwhelming emotion flood through me. I sit in the car, sobbing. He walks over and opens the door.
“Are you okay?”
He leans into the car to unfasten my seat belt. I get out and collapse into his arms, weeping uncontrollably. I sputter out what had happened. His warm, reassuring kindness envelops me as he hugs me tighter.
“We’ll get through this, Star,” he whispers, using the nickname that always makes me feel warm inside.
His scent is intoxicating. His breath in my ear. His thin shirt barely coming between my fingers and the curves of his muscles. My hand shoots out, my fingers sliding up his back of their own volition, eager to curl around his neck. I want to stop his breath, his heart. I lower my palms fast, before Malcolm notices. My breath is ragged as I fight the curse’s hold on me. My blood boils, with passion and a deadly hunger to feel his blood on my fingertips. My heart pulses as the curse tugs at me with dangerous urges. I tremble, and exhale through chattering teeth, scared of myself, of what I am capable of, and terrified of hurting someone I care so much about. Malcolm’s the only person I have left. I can’t lose him. Especially not to the dark impulses the curse gives me.
Tears blur my vision as I look up at him. “How? How can we get through this? I can’t trust my family.” Hell, I can’t trust myself.
“You got me,” he says. “I’m here. I’ll protect you. Try to bring back that pretty smile.”
The way he says it gives me hope that I can be happy again one day. I can’t hurt him. I won’t. No matter how bad the bloodlust gets.
Malcolm adds, “We’ll chill here, you can clear your head for a while. And after that, if you’re sure you still want to run away, I’ll go with you. You don’t have to go through this alone.”
I sigh. “But if the Tether takes us, it could mean the last time you saw your family wouldreallybe the last time, Malcolm.”
He smirks. “My family has a way of popping up like ragweeds. And besides, anytime the Tether takes you it means you could be leaving the ones you love forever.” His eyes get sad and low. “But I know that things will be okay as long as we have each other. Right?”
I don’t know how he does it, how he makes me smile when my heart is dying. But a small piece of me begins to heal. He leans in, his breath warm against my ear. “You’re my anchor,” he murmurs, his lips brushing my cheek. “No matter what happens, I’m with you.” My heart squeezes at his promise.
We spend the night in a rented room in a Black-owned boardinghouse because no hotel would rent rooms to Black people in this time and place. But the world’s racism doesn’t burn me tonight. We talk until dawn, our secrets merging into slurred whispers until exhaustion takes over and we drift into sleep.
Hours later, Malcolm and I are still united in 1903 Georgia. Our fingers intertwine as the sun sets in a brilliant blue sky with golden streaks and we stand on emerald blades of grass. In the distance, an elegant white gazebo catches my eye.
