Symmetry: Eternal Quest Breaker Series, #1

By T. M. Caruana

They are coming for her, but he'll do anything to protect her.

 

Isolated and with no recollection of her past, Susy is kept captive in a facility where she battles her illness. Her only friend is an almost absent doctor, and her deepest sorrow is her father's disappointment in her.

Before finding a cure, Susy's doctor tells her he won't see her again and leaves her a necklace with a key she must keep secret. Escaping that place had been a long-time dream, and upon attempting it, her curiosity takes her to a room where she finds the drawer the key unlocks and uncovers what she believes to be a love poem.

As she runs away from her prison, a man grabs her and asks her to trust him. Infatuated at the sight of him, she feels she knows him and can trust him even if she soon realises that he might be more dangerous than she thought.

Susy is adamant about not allowing her feelings for this man to grow deeper as they run from the ones who want to keep her locked up. At least not until she remembers everything about who she is and what she needs to do to stop the death of billions.

When love and duty collide, will Susy be able to use her powers and intelligence to outsmart her enemies and escape their control?

 

Be swept away to different worlds in this FANTASY QUEST ROMANCE, where a strong heart and a powerful will are the only things which will save the reader from pulling away from its pages!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Marvellous Magics
• Release date: Apr 19, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223059875

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

THE BEGINNING OF THE END

An isolated life had no honour, and wasn’t a life at all. The knot in my stomach and the pain in my eyes made me feel increasingly hopeless with every day that passed. The noises in my ears and the throbbing in my bones and joints distracted me from everything enjoyable, such as reading books or watching TV in the evenings.

Even memories of being with my family had become blurry; I could hardly remember them at all. Worst of all was that sometimes I couldn’t even recognise my visitors’ faces. I didn’t recognise them and couldn’t remember their names. The feelings that washed over me when I failed to remember were unbearable. Their tilted heads and sad faces showed a pity that I couldn’t return, because I wasn’t able to understand or remember why they were sorry for me. I saw that this hurt those who visited me, especially the nurses in the ward who had followed me through my time here and had always been by my side.

I lay in my bed, on my right side rather than on my back as lying directly on my spine felt like resting on a row of marbles, looking through my window that couldn’t be opened to invite the fresh air in. I didn’t know when it had last been cleaned, but just outside my window I could see a robin sat on a thin branch in the only tree in the courtyard. It was a beautiful bird, and it was clearly very proud.

Recurring thoughts about the disappointment of my life echoed in my head and made it difficult to hide reality in my attempt to escape into daydreams. Through my daydreams, I could disappear into distant lands with their adventures, freeing me from having to endure the torture of my pains every minute of every day.

A deep sigh rattled out of my lungs whilst a single tear ran down my cold cheek. I had spent a lifetime at this private hospital in Switzerland, in a ward that belonged to the research department where my father worked on the Large Hadron Collider at CERN. Despite the clinic’s outstanding technology and many leading scientists and countless tests, no one had found a cure for my agony – not even a diagnosis had been established.

I turned my head as the door to my room opened. Two nurses came in, which one of them were humming a light-hearted melody. She carried a tray with a glass of rosehip soup and two biscuits. I snorted tiresomely. When I was younger this was the only combination of food that I could stomach during my blood tests, but after twenty-nine years, the mere sight of the orangey-brown mess triggered my gag reflex. It was a sign to start preparing for the needles.

I felt like a lab rat, and it was the only time that both a male and a female nurse were present. The female nurse told me the reason was to ensure I would cooperate. I had never expressed my views on needles during all the years of torture. Why did they think I was going to protest suddenly? And if I didn’t want to continue my treatment, what would they do then – force me?

The female nurse smiled a brief smile at me and then turned to the male nurse and start talking about her daughters like I wasn’t even there, like I had already died and was a corpse during an autopsy.

I winced in pain when the nurse put the needle in my throat. I didn’t even get a ‘now there will be a sharp scratch’ warning. The woman noticed but continued to witter on about her teenage daughter’s drunken party exploits. The man nodded in agreement but looked just as uninterested as me. The whole situation – the energetic woman, the extraction of blood and the sight of rosehip soup, month in, month out, just made me feel closer to death, instead of giving me hope for a better life.

After the female nurse had filled the tubes with my blood, they both left the room without even a ‘goodbye’. I didn’t even know if they were finished. They left me sitting on the bed with my shirt pulled down over my shoulders, baring my throat. I wondered, as I sat there whether there was anyone who cared about me? Was there anyone who cared that I was a lonely girl in bed all day, every day? Well, there was someone!

In the seventeenth-century mirror next to the window, I saw Vic’s figure reflected, as he stood in the doorway. My dear cousin had always been there for me; he felt more like a big brother or a best friend than a cousin. He stopped by regularly to encourage me that better times would come. Vic never brought the answers that I longed to hear, though. Instead, he sat for long hours at the bedside and told me the wildest stories I had ever heard. Sometimes he would continue telling the stories until I had fallen asleep.

Vic frowned as he looked at me from the doorpost. You’re in deep thought.

You always read me like an open book.

I tried my best to sound cheerful so as not to show what I really thought. If he knew how hopeless I felt, maybe he wouldn’t want to continue visiting me. Life would be miserable without him. Given my poor short-term memory, I was grateful that his face was always familiar. Nevertheless, I had hoped that his face wouldn’t always be sad when he looked at me through the dark-blonde fringe of his. It always made me laugh to see it take on a life of its own and tear itself away from the otherwise perfectly gelled hair.

Vic’s strained smile showed compassion but coupled with a certain admiration. That I was important to him was evident in his amber eyes.

Are you far away in a distant land where the sun always shines on the widest golden beaches? he asked, his gestures helping me create the image.

Vic knew me too well, and I knew he wouldn’t drop the subject or get straight to the point. He was too gentle but for some strange reason, I felt nervous around him this time and had to look away.

I quickly decided to focus my eyes on the floral wallpaper that had once been a summery yellow but over the years, had faded to an ugly shade of its former glory. It reminded me of how many years I had spent in the same room, in the same bed and in the same situation. The room was plain, no bigger than a bunker with only a tiny en-suite shower. Next to its door and opposite the end of the bed, there was a dresser with two old copper candleholders supporting candles that had never been lit. There was a white armchair to the right of the dresser in the corner, which the cleaners always pushed it around and left it standing in different places when they cleaned the room. The curtains had been washed and re-hung several times, but never replaced.

Vic’s long legs enabled him to cross the room in two quick strides and sank onto my bed with his grandpa sandals firmly planted on the floor. The silence lingered, allowing me to gather my emotions and give him a smile as a signal that we could continue the conversation. I looked at him and the warmth spread through my body, as it always did when he was in my presence. I don’t know how to explain it, but I could certainly feel that his feelings were mutual.

How’s the research? Have you managed to smash some particles together and create more worlds yet? I asked with a playful sarcasm in my voice.

Well, actually, a little ‘Big Bang’ has been created in one of the cylinders, but we have to investigate more to know that it didn’t happen by accident. Once we have mastered the art, I will create a world for you.

Vic tried to impress as he threw the last sentence at me with an equally playful sarcasm. The flaw in his comment was that he didn’t believe in chance or the supernatural, for that matter, however this was his way of showing humility. He stuck to Charles Darwin’s theory that the strongest survives and lives on, or a more modern translation: ‘the majority’s opinion leads to the world’s future development’.

Vic continued to talk about other things, his voice becoming a background murmur, as my thoughts focused on how extraordinary the man in front of me was. He knew I wasn’t really interested in the topic because my knowledge of science was minimal. But his humility shone through every time he spoke. If I thought about it, I had probably never heard him say a single selfish or negative word.

My admiration for Vic was both emotional and professional. He was exceptionally intelligent and had begun to help his father, who was my uncle Benjamin, or Ben as we called him, with his science research from a very young age. Vic soon proved himself to be a master of his field. Although he had the looks of a twenty-year-old, he had the wisdom of someone in their forties. The way age weathered people can really prove unfair and although the disease was often playing tricks with my memory, I always seemed to return to the terrible realisation of my thirtieth birthday next year. Where had the time gone? Not that the time really mattered to me here. It was Vic I was worried about. He had dedicated his life to research and to my knowledge, had never met a woman to share his life with.

Vic’s appearance, he shouldn’t have had any problems at all attracting women. He had a heady combination of seriousness, sincerity and a personality that inspired both admiration and a sense of security. He was simply admirable. He was a man I couldn’t imagine any woman rejecting.

Maybe it would have been better for him if I refused his visit. It would give him more time for his real life, with real friends who did actual activities rather than just sitting with me in my prison. But Vic was my everything, and he was all I had. I couldn’t imagine life without him. Did that make me a horrible and selfish person?

A sudden awareness of these destructive thoughts reminded me that I had sat quietly for an embarrassingly long time. I could feel my eyes narrow with concern and my teeth bit hard together. I quickly tried to steer my thoughts to something else.

You know I have been a victim of a troll?

I could see Vic’s eyes harden.

Look! I pulled down the collar of the shirt and pointed to two pinpricks on the lower part of my neck where the nurse had taken the blood samples.

A nurse troll, Vic chuckled. You can take over the storytelling in the future. The apprentice has become the master. Vic looked down at his hands and it seemed like he wanted to say something more, but something stopped him.

You will soon get well, you see. We’re all working hard to find a cure, he whispered gently.

I took a deep breath and swallowed in an attempt to keep away the tears whilst I nodded. His sad words had made the moment tense. Vic would leave soon; he had that look in his eyes that showed he didn’t have time to stay any longer.

Read your poem, I pressed as a quick request, but with a much harsher tone than I had intended.

I lay back meekly, my head on the pillow. I was referring to the poem, which he often used to read to comfort me to sleep. If I asked him to read it, he always stayed a moment longer than planned.

Vic moved to sit higher up on the bed and caressed my cheek gently with the back of his hand and stroked away a strand of my long, blonde hair from my eyes.

It didn’t feel right, something was wrong. Vic wasn’t himself and just as I could sense his feelings, I was sure he could feel the fear that came over me, like needles pricking my skin from head to toe. I was quiet again and waited for the unwelcome words I knew would come from Vic’s mouth.

Vic took a deep breath and held it in for what seemed like several seconds. He looked at the two pink flowers that always appeared on the night before my blood tests and were probably the only things that were beautiful in the room, except for Vic.

His gaze wandered awkwardly toward the ceiling and then down to his hands. Vic’s mouth was closed, but I could detect little cautious movements as if he was trying to start a sentence but couldn’t quite find the right words. His conflicting emotions were clear, even if the words weren’t spoken yet.

Vic opened his right hand and in his palm there was a piece of jewellery. It was a key on a chain with a handle in the shape of a pentagram. In the lower left triangle of the star was a yellow stone. Without saying a word, he bent over me and hung the pendant around my neck.

I must leave, Susy. I have things I need to do, and I don’t know if I’ll be back. I haven’t forgotten what I promised you. I’ll find a cure for you, but you also have to promise me one thing. You must never show the jewellery to anyone, you must keep it a secret. Hide it well. One day, I’ll want it back, but right now it’s safest here with you. You are the only one I can trust.

Vic swept his hand over my eyes, so that I would close them, and I realised it was to hide his own grief. With a voice choked by tears, he whispered the poem that he knew had comforted me so many times.

"Find Your dreams in the rainbow way,

Count two lights revealing a starry day,

The brave knights will see You through,

The kind of seven are waiting for You,

Within You lie memories deep,

They will shine when You are asleep,

When You gather what’s been apart,

Make sure You find the secret heart."

Vic had finished the last line and we had an unwritten rule that no one would talk again after that, so I kept my eyes closed whilst Vic quietly left the room. He disappeared into a world behind locked doors that I didn’t have any knowledge of. I had never been allowed to leave the ward. My restrictions had been pointed out several times. ‘The research department isn’t a place for a little girl’ my father had hissed at me for as long as I could remember. He had said the same thing every time I had asked if I could go with him. He said it was because I was so sick, and my memory loss could put me in great danger.

The few areas where I was allowed to be, were all within the ward. It was my own, lonely, private and boring ward. There was a sitting room with a sofa and a TV, a clinically boring kitchen and a small gym that consisted of a treadmill, an exercise bike and a few weights. The staff served the meals four times a day, at exactly the same time each day – just like the medication. The blood tests weren’t part of the daily routine but were performed only once a month.

The monthly routine also included visits from my father. I felt hope they had a cure each time they stuck their heads around the doorway, but they only came to see if I was still alive. Their faces symbolised disappointment more than joy. They were both in their sixties and weren’t good at handling emotions. I guess my father had become more withdrawn after my mother died having me. He had had to deal with his grief as well as caring for such a sick child. It was strange to me that he never remarried and had more children, even though I had pointed out many times how nice it would have been to have siblings.

At least I had Vic - well, until now.

I brought my hand under my shirt to feel the key that rested hidden against my chest and burst into the most painful sobs that I had ever experienced. Pulling my knees up to my stomach, I grabbed hard onto the big down pillow. My chest ached from the violent sobs and my cheeks pounded with heat. I had to remind myself to breathe.

Why are you leaving me now? I whispered over and over again, without comprehending why, but I understood that there was nothing more to be said.

The expression on his face had been crystal clear. It was obvious that he would never return. He wouldn’t come tomorrow, or next week, or in a month’s time. What hurt the most and made my stomach contract like a shrivelled raisin was the thought of never seeing him again. With the abominable life I had lived, the rest of it, without Vic’s presence, was the beginning of the end.

CHAPTER 2

ESCAPE WITH HIS LIFE

In Bath, England, Samuel glued a blank A4 page to either side of the old piece of paper. He pasted minimal amounts in the corners to prevent damaging the piece of the map that he possessed, then shut the lever-arch file and returned it to the bookshelf.

There, now no one will find it. After so many years of searching, he finally had it in his possession.

He slowly made his way into the kitchen and brewed a cup of tea. He opened the cupboard where he had a jar with some biscuits and took out two, smothered in chocolate. It was the neighbour who had baked them for him when she had come round earlier in the week. Since his wife had died in a car accident last year, Samuel hadn’t had much social contact with other people and appreciated her company more than her baking. He wanted to call her now when he was in such a good mood but couldn’t allow himself to put her in danger unnecessarily. He had decided to spend the rest of his life in solitude due to his unsafe duties, which was the reason his wife was dead. He should have been honest about who he was from the beginning. To be able to protect Harriett, he should have been near her at all times, near enough to hear her every breath.

Samuel sat down on the sofa, sighed, and looked over at the fabric of the cushion on the kitchen bench. Harriett had re-upholstered it just a year before she died and sewn the matching flowery curtains. His heart felt heavy when he thought of her. He sat silently for a while and breathed in the vapours from his mint tea and listening to the ticking of their old cuckoo clock, tick-tock, tick-tock.

A black BMW drove past outside his window and stopped, blocking his driveway. The car’s size would provide sufficient space in the boot for a tied-up man of his size, he thought dismissively as he closed his eyes and hung his head in despair. The culprits had found him, again.

Samuel immediately understood the events that would follow and without waiting another second, he took the plate with the biscuits and the teacup and threw them in the rubbish bin without even pouring the tea into the sink. He ran down to the basement and went to the trap door he had installed beneath the staircase when he had moved in five years ago. He pulled up the hidden pin that popped the door open from the wall, bent down, crawled into the small space and closed the door behind him.

The space was limited so he had to sit down with his knees pressed tightly against his forehead in complete darkness. He hoped no spiders had moved in during the five years it had been empty. He didn’t like spiders. As expected, he heard the robbers break into the house. Calling the police wasn’t worthwhile. The thieves were only here for one reason and if they didn’t find the map, they would keep looking.

Now he would have to move again which he wasn’t looking forward to. He had found the area appealing in its own way and he was enjoying the newfound friendship with the neighbour. It was no use though; he hadn’t been able to make a normal life for himself. But his assignment was the most important duty he would ever have in the world and it didn’t come without its consequences. The treasure must be returned at any cost and so he understood how important it was that the map was safely hidden from the intruders. He didn’t want more people to suffer. When the time was right, everything would be returned to its origin.

They seemed to be ransacking the entire house, looking in every little nook and cranny. He could hear them smashing the china and throwing his books on the floor. Everything would be in a state. At least there wouldn’t be much left which needed to be packed for the move. He had been through this so many times that he no longer cared about material possessions. Just as long as they didn’t find the map. Was it hidden in a safe enough place? Samuel could hear male voices, but couldn’t make out exactly what was said. He pressed his ear closer to the door and closed his eyes to concentrate.

Maybe it isn’t here. Old Samuel is very tricky. He would have had time to hide it since we were last on his tracks.

The rough voice came from a man who couldn’t be over thirty. He sounded uneducated and Samuel thought he had a foreign accent, prompting him to conclude that the man must have followed him around the world to get here.

Don’t you think it’s strange that he isn’t home so late at night? Where would he have gone at this time? commented the youthful voice, whilst Samuel heard what could only be his Chinese-style vase that sat on the shelf next to the washing machine, smash into a thousand pieces on the floor.

I dunno, maybe he’s still here and is hiding. We’ll carry on looking.

The other man seemed much older, about fifty Samuel guessed. It was clear that he was in charge.

Still slumped in his little hideaway, with his knees now under his chin, Samuel began to feel the torments of his worn body. His back had started to hurt and his eyes still couldn’t see anything but darkness. When would they leave? How long would he have to sit here?

Suddenly Samuel’s heart pounded faster and the adrenaline pumped into his fingertips as footsteps were heard just outside the secret door. He held his breath. ‘Don’t let them find me; don’t let them find me,’ was the only thing that went through Samuel’s head.

He closed his eyes and thought that when they had gone, he would summon the Honorary Knight Order. Now they needed to forge new plans on how to handle their opponents, who had started catching on to them. He also wanted to give the others the good news that he had held onto the map – if he still had it in his possession after this evening. These opponents had, throughout the years, gathered more knowledge of the Order’s powers, as they had studied the other part of the map that they possessed. For this reason, it was important to keep abreast of what they could expect from their adversaries if the group were to come out victorious in the battle.

It had been seven years since the Order had been summoned and it would only be the third time they had met since the world’s treasure had been stolen. The meetings were few whilst all seven members attempted to make every effort to retrieve the treasure and keep it safe. They worked in three groups of two and were responsible for reporting to the others if anything happened to their partner. The seventh member, the Chameleon, worked alone; no one had ever seen him.

Michael was Samuel’s partner and they kept in touch, but not routinely. Sometimes they contacted each other by letter or e-mail and at other times via phone calls or meetings. At these meetings, they got the chance to share information that they had gathered about the treasure’s location. Samuel’s mission had been the burden of finding and preserving the part of the map that he had now found. Secretly, he had always hoped to pass the burden over to any of the other members in order, so that he could return to his life with Harriett, but it was too late now.

His primary duty in this very moment was to stay alive.

No, Tim, he aint here, there aint nothing here. I’ve looked through all the boxes and I can’t find the map. I say we leave, grab a bite to eat and then we come back and wait until he gets back. He’s got to come home sometime and when he does, we’ll take him, reasoned the older man.

Okay, Peter, I’m hungry, so it sounds like a good plan and I don’t want to be around you when you get low blood sugar. But just to be clear, we can’t go back to the boss without the map and without having killed the old man.

Were we supposed to fix the old man?

Yes, the boss takes no risks, so read our order.

Okay, I understand. But I’m not cleaning up after you if it becomes a messy slaughter.

Wait…

One of them whispered and Samuel couldn’t distinguish which man had spoken. Samuel closed his eyes and used his weakened power to see them both in his thoughts. It had been the old man whispering, now followed by a gesture with his index finger over his mouth as a sharp request for silence. Samuel opened his eyes to stop all his energies from being sucked out of him and waited in frightened discomfort. There was silence for several minutes and Samuel couldn’t hear any footsteps or sounds from the men. They must have conjured a new idea, or possibly they had spotted the secret door.

The small door suddenly jerked open, and a revolver was pointed at him, but at what the enemy would believe to be an empty room. Although, he could probably determine that someone had been there recently, since there were tracks in the dust on the floor. He turned around but Samuel didn’t give him the chance to warn Tim before bashing a hard hit on the back of his head, which threw him to the floor. The older man of the two, had underestimated his opponent if he had assumed that Samuel had no strength left after so many years. The guy was a beefy man, but Samuel was confident he could stand a chance against him, even if he couldn’t have made himself invisible. He had spent the last ten years learning Taido, and coupled with his power of invisibility, it was a highly dangerous combination to attempt to overcome. The man’s choices would be to flee or play dead. His choices were reduced however when Samuel knocked him unconscious on the old wooden floor. Meanwhile, the young lad approached Samuel in a squatting position and menacingly whispered.

Eleanor, he threatened, as he made a nodding gesture towards his revolver, will puncture your two lungs and dig out the contents of your brain if you move a muscle. Nice and easy now, tell me where you’ve hidden the map and no one should get hurt.

His voice was sharp, and Samuel believed him. He knew he had to think quickly to escape with his life.

CHAPTER 3

LUST FOR ADVENTURE

Ihad been lying awake for two hours staring at the full moon, calm but still suffering, without being able to fall asleep. Normally, I don’t sleep for long, but this night it seemed exceptionally impossible to even get one hour. I felt a creeping feeling in my gut and emotions of freedom couldn’t be kept out of my thoughts. How would it feel to experience the world as I’ve seen it on TV? If I left the ward, would the pain increase without my drugs? Would it be worth it to experience a short time outside the hospital as opposed to an eternity in my bed? Without Vic, life was ‘Game Over’ since the years would continue with the same routine, but without him.

U-235. The code escaped my lips. It was the code to the door that led to the research department.

Vic had keyed it in a hurry once without noticing that I was looking over his shoulder. U-235, it definitely was. I wondered if there was anyone in the department now. If anyone noticed me, my father would be in big trouble. He would be extremely disappointed with my actions. But I had to get a little adventure in my life; now when all other hope was lost. I couldn’t imagine anything worse than the situation that was confronting me.

I gently sat up, threw my feet off the bed and wiggled my small toes. My tiny feet were the reason I almost never wore shoes. They were hard to find in my size, other than with childish motifs. Or that was my father’s excuse anyway. Not that I complained. The worn Mickey Mouse slippers that I got for Christmas five years ago still fitted. What amazed me at this point was that, considering my normal memory loss, I could actually remember when the slippers were given to me.

My heart raced and dizziness clouded my sight. Was I nervous? Or was it my illness? Would the aching strain start in my muscles, the screaming in my ears and the stinging in my eyes, which were always most evident in the evenings? I hesitated a few seconds. No. The uncomfortable burning sensation in my chest was probably just nerves. I felt like a master criminal before I had even put my feet on the floor. The sun-bleached wallpaper caught my eye and I remembered again how I had watched it fade. This reinforced my decision and dispelled my doubts. Tonight, I was going to follow my heart, my mind had had its way for far too many years.

I peered out of my bedroom to the hallway where the door to the left led to the outside world. To the right I could see a glimpse of the living room. It was late; no staff in sight. This was the perfect opportunity to escape. I had never even thought about escaping before. Well yes, I had dreamt of the outside, but never had I seriously planned it. Where would I start? What could I expect and what would I need out there?

I pulled out the bottom drawer on the dresser and took out my small, black bag with its many compartments. The kitchen staff had given it to me as a Christmas present to keep biscuit cutters. That’s what the patch I had placed in the bag described, as I knew I would forget. I emptied the cutters into the drawer without thinking about the noise they made. Next, I opened the drawer above to pack underwear, a top, and a shirt. In the bathroom, I grabbed the towel, but then hung it back on the hook. I assessed that I just needed the essentials.

In the mirror over the washbasin, tired eyes surrounded by greyish skin looked back at me, making me shiver and frown. My blonde hair was a mess, so I brushed it and pulled it into a ponytail. Why make myself beautiful for what awaited me outside the clinic? I had never been interested in my appearance and it seemed like an act to show otherwise.

After debating with myself, I brushed mascara over my eyelashes, which at least gave life to my blue-violet eyes. I brushed my teeth and stuffed the three articles in the bag. No lipstick. I had never been much for it. My pale lips could show I wasn’t vain; besides, I would lick it off within ten minutes. Where would I be in ten minutes? I would probably still be in the ward.

Suddenly, something else occurred to me. Where would I get money? I had never needed money before. I could always improvise on the way out and look through other people’s belongings. No, that didn’t feel right. Maybe it was best to stay in the ward… No! I couldn’t stay here forever. I had to escape tonight. The idea that I would forget that Vic had said farewell tonight and die of grief when he never came back was too daunting.

Out in the kitchen I rooted through every drawer, opened every cupboard and every jar and eventually saw the white piggy bank where the staff put their snack money. It wouldn’t be much, but it was a start. The piggy bank opened from the bottom, and the contents poured out into my hand. I put the money into the compartment on the front of the bag. Then I threw some biscuits into the slot on the side. Now I was ready for the world, yes…or almost. I hovered in the doorway to my room. The purple teddy bear that had always been my friend and comforter sat on the bed, looking straight at me. The fabric was old, and its padding had begun to seep out through its left foot. To others, he might not seem like anything special; two embroidered black eyes, a nose, and a mouth. But I was an adult now. I couldn’t drag a soft toy with me on my quest. I tried to convince myself that he barely fitted in the bag.

The deep sigh was ambiguous this time, as I really would miss my secure ward. The ward had given me a roof over my head, although I didn’t consider it to be a home. My gaze wandered around the room one last time. Something wanted to pull me back. ‘Stay in your safe bed’!

But I had made up my mind and continued past my room and to the door that would lead to freedom. My finger pressed gently but firmly on the letter U followed by the numbers 235. A green light lit up on the panel, and I heard a click. My frail hands pressed down on the handle, whilst I gave the door a shove with my hip, opening it until I could just peer around the gap.

I felt my heart almost stop with the fright. I had crossed the forbidden line that would surely result in consequences. I looked to see if the coast was clear. No one was around. I released a huge sigh of relief, which breath I had held in since I had left my room. I took another deep breath before sneaking across the floor as quietly as possible and entered through another door.

I entered a room which was only a little bigger than mine. There was space for two desks, and in the middle of the room, there was a workbench with drawings. It was strange that there were only two desks when there were three people employed.

As I took another breath, I could smell Vic’s aftershave, which unexpectedly made me halt. I never knew he was so close to me all the time.

I carried on looking around. On the wall, numerous buttons and dials in different colours surrounded a glass window above the desks. When I looked through the window, I saw an almost empty room with just one reclinable chair in the centre that was linked to various tubes and electrical wires. This increased my curiosity about what each button on the wall controlled. I sat down at the right-hand desk. This didn’t look dangerous at all, as my dad wanted it to seem. It upset me that I wasn’t involved in the research. Even though I was sick, I could be helpful by pushing the buttons. ‘This isn’t a place for a little girl’, echoed in my head again. Shaking my head and looked around amongst the objects on the desktop. It was clinical; not a pen was out of place and not a single family photo was displayed. After further inspection, I realised that the desk’s drawer was locked.

There must be a key near, I whispered to myself, even though I was alone in the room.

All I could see when I looked around, were old books on a shelf. There were books on Isaac Newton, the Great Fire of London, a Bible, one on the Universe and other scientific books related to the work at the Institute.

On the workbench were drawings and a notebook, also by Isaac Newton, which I discovered contained mostly calculations as I flicked through it. Where had father got hold of it? It looked genuinely old, with the same handwriting as my father’s. With the same name and handwriting, the scientist must have had a significant role in the family. Maybe if I read it, I would understand my father in a different way and maybe even get him to be proud of my newfound scientific knowledge. It would be a change from the disappointment I could perceive in his eyes every time he came to visit me.

The notebook was quite big, so I tucked it into the large compartment in my bag. I would have to return it one day. Father would be furious if it disappeared, and his temper was notorious.

I kept searching for a key which could unlock the drawer in the desk. How could I open it? My thoughts turned to the key-like jewellery I had been given by Vic just hours earlier. It would be too simple if it were the key that belonged to that drawer, but would it really be so strange? He would never have guessed that I would find myself in the research room with access to the drawer. My fingers fumbled under my top to get it out, and I had to hunch my body to reach the keyhole. It spun effortlessly in the keyhole. It was the right key. The handle to the drawer was solid, made of copper, which made the almost empty drawer easy to pull out gently.

I couldn’t have felt more baffled in the next seconds. In the drawer there was only a silver pendant and a piece of paper with Vic’s poem. My eyes were drawn to the pendant that glistened in the corner. I picked it up, but I found it was hard to break into and only opened when I pushed my nail into the groove between the two halves.

There was a small picture inside that Vic had taken of us on a day we had baked a gingerbread house one Christmas years ago. It was strange that Vic wasn’t in the picture. I could have sworn that the picture was taken