The Special Ones by Em Bailey

Author:Em Bailey
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: ebook
Publisher: Hardie Grant Egmont
Published: 2016-03-10T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Esther stands just outside the front gate, no more than a few arm lengths from where I am crouching in the shadows, balaclava on, blanket in hand. Tucked in my back pocket is the gun. I watch her carefully, noting every little detail. The way she holds her body suggests that she’s somewhere between fear and excitement. This is not surprising. She knows that she is about to come face to face with me.

As I stare at her, I notice something that makes my heart race. Usually the ones who come through the gate look grey and empty, their souls already detached and off searching for their next bodily form. But Esther doesn’t look like that. She glows just as brightly now as she did the first day I laid eyes on her.

She has always been the perfect one. The one who was the most like me. Which is why her recent behaviour has been so difficult to fathom.

A single glance and I know whether someone is good or bad, whether their life will mean anything or if their existence is pointless. When my brother was born, for instance, I remember leaning over his crib and sensing how weak he was. I wanted to help but my parents didn’t understand, and wouldn’t let me do what was needed to make him strong.

The first time I saw Esther, I understood everything about her. Anyone who shone like that must be truly good, truly pure. But she’s made so many mistakes lately. Broken so many rules. I have been tolerant, but there must be a limit.

I inch a little closer to her, put my hand on the grip of the gun, just in case. I only ever have one bullet in it, and even that is not really necessary. They always obey me without question. They practically climb into the boot of the car without me needing to do a thing.

It’s tempting to step from the shadows right now. Reveal myself. But waiting is an important part of renewal. It’s best if they relax, just a little.

Esther is still very tense. Her breathing is shallow and her head swivels constantly from side to side, inclined slightly in that bird-like way of hers. I know every detail about her, every mannerism. Some nights I’ve examined her sleeping face so intensely that her skin and bone have melted away and I’ve been able to look straight into the thoughts flickering in her mind. My favourite places to watch are the hollows on each side of her head, where the flesh dips inwards. How often have I imagined pressing a finger against those indentations, to feel the thoughts pulsing beneath the surface. Esther: the only person I can think about touching without feeling repulsed. The only person I’ve ever wanted to touch.

Not that I need to make physical contact to tell what she’s thinking about. I know that already. I shape her everything, her days and her nights. I am the negative space around her.

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