Page 35 of Kaine

The figure on the screen isn’t there, and I flip the view. She’s in the kitchen now, still in my hoodie, but with an apron tied around her waist. She must’ve found it hanging in the pantry.

The scene playing out in front of me is worlds away from the nightmare I’ve just awoken from.

The music coming from the speakers is more upbeat now; she’s switched to a pop radio station, and is dancing to the beat as she cooks.

Barefoot, bare assed, hips swaying and cooking in my kitchen.

I’ve never had more reason to go home.

There’s a message flashing on my phone that must have come in after Jemima left for the day. I press the button and turn up the sound.

It’s her. That sweet, husky voice that belongs on a siren, singing on a jagged cliff, calling sailors to their deaths.

“Kaine. I’m making pork chops for dinner. Again. And this time with my mum’s special marsala mushroom sauce. Be home by seven. It’ll be hot and waiting for you.”

Checking the time on my watch, it’s 6:50 p.m.

I close my eyes and imagine a life too good to be true.

“ARGHHH!” I scream, digging my fingertips into my scalp.

I get up and run out the door.