A Bargain so Deadly

“What do you know about The Bargain?” I pick invisible lint off my shirt, trying to appear as casual as possible.

Sam stops stirring the tea she’s making abruptly, the spoon clangs loudly against the cup and her eyes narrow, burning holes into my skin. I don’t look up.

Dante shifts on the couch to face me. I can feel the disbelief radiating from him and piercing through the holes Sam’s eyes burn in my flesh.

“Enough to know it’s something not to be talked about.” Sam makes her way to where Dante and I sit, two mugs in her hands. She places them down on the coffee table and eyes me suspiciously. When I still don’t move to meet her gaze, she huffs and walks back to the kitchen to grab the third mug.

“Or even thought about,” Dante adds playfully, but his voice is tight. I still can’t pull my eyes from my lap.

He reaches out to touch my arm, “hey.” I finally look up, Sam rounds the coffee table and takes a seat on the other side of Dante. “You’re not seriously even considering it?”

My eyes flick from Dante to Sam and back again. Concern shadows both of their faces, it almost, almost makes me feel guilty when I lie in response. “No,” I say.

Letting out a long breath. I scrub my hands down my face. “No,” I repeat. “I just… I just don’t know what to do. Wren just keeps getting worse.”

“Lori.” The sympathy in Sam’s voice almost chokes me, that is before she crawls across Dante and pulls me into a crushing hug, actually pushing the air from my lungs. Dante wraps his arms around the both of us.

“We’d do anything to help,” he says. “Just not that,” Sam finishes.

I sigh loudly and relax into the death grip embrace. My eyes burn with unleashed tears and my face heats at the struggle to keep them held back.

My younger sister, Wren, I would do anything for her. Including that. Her health has been steadily declining with the same undiagnosable, life-sucking disease that took our mother from us. I feel so helpless and the feeling just intensifies when I see each bit of life leaving her each day.

Part of me knew it wasn’t a good idea to bring The Bargain up with them, but Google just provided no answers. The Bargain is a legend in our small town of Lakeview, passed down from the original generation to the next. All I know is the minuscule details I heard once we moved… You offer a bargain; you hide the pieces and when they can’t be found you get your wish. Like I said, minuscule details.

My mother, Wren and I moved to Lakeview when I was sixteen, but Sam and Dante were born here and so were their parents and their parents’ parents. I was hoping they’d be willing to share some more details. But they either don’t want me to do it or over the years the legend has been kept under lock and key.

Eventually, when the silence starts to become too uncomfortable, I thank them and pull against their grip. They both get the message and move away. Sam gives me one last squeeze before reaching for the mugs on the coffee table and distributing them. I accept my mug and pull my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around them, gripping the mug with both hands in front of me. It’s a little too warm, but I welcome it. The burn distracts me from the burning behind my eyes and in my throat.

Dante hits play on the movie we selected and the room flickers with a flash of lightning and the rain picks up, the wind smashes the water against the windows and thunder rumbles menacingly. Against the raging storm, it’s almost impossible to hear the movie.

“Turn it up,” Sam demands and Dante obliges but not before rolling his eyes dramatically.

I take no notice of the movie; my ears are finely tuned to what they can hear of the storm through the hollowness that’s taken over. I feel far away from this room, from my body as memories of Wren and I curled up under a blanket on the verandah, watching a summer storm roll across the mountains and swallow the town. Summer was our favourite time of the year for that reason alone. Mum would make us hot chocolates and sit out there with a fond smile on her face, but instead of the storm, she was watching us.

Nostalgia wraps its icy fingers around my throat and squeezes. The pain makes me want to scream, but I don’t. Instead, I let the hot, fat tears streak silently down my cheeks.

These Friday movie nights are starting to become less of a distraction and more of a reminder that a certain part of my life is missing and another one will be soon too.

The second the movie finishes, I’m quick to stand, grab the empty mugs and snack rubbish from the coffee table. I’m more than happy to clean up on my own, any time I can get away from them to allow the red I’m sure is running my eyes to ease is needed.

After the mugs are loaded, I yawn and stretch exaggeratedly, “I’m going to head off.”

Sam sits up. “Do you want to stay? It’s really coming down out there.”

“No thanks. I’ve got lots to get done tomorrow.”

“Do you want me to drop you home?” Dante asks.

“Aren’t you staying at Jackson’s tonight?”

“Yea,” he shrugs.

“It’s out of your way,” I wave him off. “It’s all good I bought a brolly and it’s not that far.”

They both look at me as if to say ‘have you lost your ever-loving mind?!’ But I ignore it and busy myself slipping into my jacket and putting my shoes on.

Truth be told, I don’t really want to walk in the rain, however, I need the time to think and decompress.

I hug them both and walk towards the door. “Text me when you get home,” Sam says as my hand connects with the door handle.

”Yes, mum.” I flash them a reassuring smile before scurrying out the door and pulling it shut behind me.

...

Somehow, the walk home feels longer today. I put it down to taking extra care to miss the puddles and the patches of mud. My mind keeps wandering back to The Bargain.

I wrack my brain thinking of people that I can ask, that will know about it, that will give me more information, but I come up with none. I’m not exactly a social butterfly. I met Sam and Dante on my first day of school and they’ve been all I needed for the last nine years.

Ahead, the library comes into view, another crack of thunder rumbles through the heavy rain hitting my umbrella and the streetlights flicker and dim.

“The library.” The words come out as more of a gasp. How had I not thought of that sooner? If there’s anywhere I can find more information, it’s there.

My pace picks up and I take no notice of the puddles and mud. By the time I get home, I resemble a drowned sewer rat, but I don’t care. I have a plan. I have a plan.

Not slowing, I push through the bathroom door and my wet clothes hit the tiles with a wet slap. The water is as hot as I can handle, tendrils of steam fill the room and hope fills my chest.