Page 83 of The Little Shop of Curiosities Cursed Object 1, The Music Box

I suddenly feel gentle hands at my waist, and I can tell it’s Sam. The roar of emotion dulls to a muted thud, like someone closing a door.

And through it all, I hear his voice, low and comforting in my ear.

“I’ve got you, Prickles.”

He leads me out of the room and into the hallway, grabbing our jackets on the way. I don’t say a word as we enter the lift and head down to the ground level, then out into the blessedly fresh air.

We walk across the road to the small park opposite the block of flats. It’s evening now, but still light, and the park is empty. We sit side by side on the swings. After putting our jackets down on the ground, he hands me the bottle of water I dropped earlier.

“Thanks,” I croak. Twisting the lid off and breaking the seal with a quiet crack, I take a sip.

“Are you okay?” When I turn my head to look at him, it’s to find him watching me, his brow furrowed in concern. “Is it the headaches again?”

I shake my head.

“What’s wrong?” he asks softly. “Talk to me, Prickles.”

The crazy thing is, I want to tell him. It’s right there on the tip of my tongue. I want so badly to have someone to talk to, someone to confide in. Someone who isn’t either of my dads. I don’t know Tristan and the others well enough yet. I don’t even know Sam all that well, but everything in my gut says to trust him.

I still can’t force the words past my lips. I can’t tell him about Vivienne being my mother, about my connection to the Whitechapel bookshop, to the Crawshanks family. I can’t tell him about the dreams.

But he did open himself up to me the other day in the backroom of my shop. He trusted me with something personal and painful. The least I can do is reciprocate, and there is one thing I can share.

I blow out a breath, staring out at the block of flats opposite us. “I was two years old when my dads began to realise I was different.”

I glance over to Sam, who is watching me intently, the swing he’s sitting on creaking slightly as he shifts more towards me.

“I don’t mean the magic. It took them a few more years to figure it out, they had to wait until I was more verbal, but eventually they realised I could feel the emotions of everyone around me. For a small child who’d not yet learned to manage his own thoughts and feelings, it was terrifying.”

“Jesus,” Sam mutters. “You’re an empath?”

I look at him in surprise, but then again, perhaps I shouldn’t. He already said the other day that he did a lot of research when he first started manifesting his abilities, so of course he’d know what an empath is.

“They moved out of the village and into a farmhouse with plenty of land around it to give me a safe space away from too many people. Gradually, through trial and error, they taught me how to control it, homeschooling me as we figured it all out. When I reached eleven, they thought I was ready to try school. They wanted me to make friends and have a little normalcy in a life that would be anything but, thanks to the things I can do.”

“Did it work?” Sam asks. “Did you go to school? Make friends?”

“I wouldn’t say I made friends. I had no experience relating to other kids. I excelled academically.”

“Of course you did.” Sam smiles.

I sigh. “I managed for a couple of years.”

“Then what happened?”

“Puberty.”

He winces.

“Not just mine, but every kid around me. Can you imagine being constantly bombarded with all those hormones and that teenage angst?”

“I’m trying really hard not to.” Sam grimaces. “Christ, that must’ve been–”

“Excruciating is the word,” I reply ruefully. “So there I was, back at home again, being homeschooled. My dads were great, and over the years, I’ve learned to block out a lot of it so I can at least function out in the world, but it’s left me socially inept and…” I glance away. “Prickly.”

He swears under his breath. “I’m sorry. I’ll stop calling you that. I shouldn’t have–”

“No.” I turn back to him, shaking my head. “Don’t. I know you don’t mean it in a derogatory way, and it makes me feel…I don’t know.” I shrug. “Included?”