England – Nine months later
Chapter 3 - Levana
Do not leave me!
I came to with a start, my eyes snapping open. Frantic someone was in the room, I sat up with an ungraceful jerk. The plea still echoing in my ears, my eyes darted to all corners of the room searching for the person of that distinctive voice. It had sounded as real as the hammering heart thumping in my chest right now. But nothing stirred, not even Eliana. My softly snoring sister in the twin bed on the other side of the nightstand between us. My gaze snapped to the window. Closed, and so were the curtains.
Satisfied we were alone, I pulled in deep breaths and rubbed my chest in slow circular movements to calm my palpitating heart. I felt the clammy stickiness of sweat under my breasts, on my armpits, and running down my neck. When I dragged a hand down my face, it came away wet. I stared at the moisture on my fingers. Were these tears or sweat? I swiped a finger under an eye and sure enough, it was wet.
Flipping the covers off me, I slipped off the bed, walked to the dresser, and stared at the mirror. The reflection looking back wasn’t my usual put-together smiling face. As stupid as it might sound to some, I greeted the day with a cheery smile. Another of my gran’s endless teachings. This morning though, my eyes were red and puffy, my swollen lips looked like I’d been biting them in my sleep. Tears still soaked my cheeks and eyelashes. Why was I crying? And what was this freaking dream I kept waking to, at least twice a week?
The dreams started about eight months ago. A day after our school tour to Winthrop Castle, to be precise. They always ended with the same plea as though it meant something other than just a cry for help. Irritatingly, I couldn’t remember the whole dream, no matter how hard I tried.
“Would you give me a little more?” I grumbled to the empty room then gazed at myself in the mirror. “Welcome to your final year, Levana Singh. New year, new me,” I said with a soft smile.
Although some things would never change. Same bright blue eyes as my dad’s. Same waist length, black hair like my mother’s. Same porcelain complexion with rosy cheeks as my gran had called it.
Three months ago, I turned seventeen but that did nothing to my physique. Still a size fourteen, although I felt an inch or two taller, still loved chocolate and still the same big breasts. I plumped up my perky tits. “Hello, Penelope and Peach,” I laughed. “Are you girls ready for our final year?”
“Eliana, Levana! Bathroom, now!” Mother’s sharp voice floated up the stairs.
Oh, we definitely are. I could’ve sworn Penelope answered me. Grinning, I smacked my sister’s feet sticking out the bottom of her comforter. “Wakey wakey, sleepyhead.” She groaned and rolled over—a first. “Dibs on the bathroom,” I called over my shoulder as I opened the door and left the room not bothering to wait for her reply.
Eliana might be four years younger than me, but she was far too mature. I guess we both were. But as the apple of my mother’s eye, she could do no wrong and followed all mother’s instructions with a smile. Where I was concerned, my mother viewed me as an obnoxious, overweight teenager. Yes, I was curvier than, as my mother put it, ‘when she was that age’ and I loved anything chocolate, but I didn’t consider myself overweight. Like Grace always said, there was more of me to love. Missing my father, I’d adapted to living with my mother’s berating comments that no longer affected me.
Regardless of the maternal inconsistency, Eliana and I were close. To make sure we both had ample hot water and avoid mother’s interference, she came up with a bathroom plan. She called it the ‘first in’ rule which meant we got alternate days to use the bathroom first in the morning. Today was her day. I figured mother’s hectic schedule for Eliana was fast becoming a tiresome ordeal for her, hence the feet-dragging this morning.
