The Promise

I stand over him, knife poised to kill. Clenching my weapon in one hand, I pin him down on the ground with the other, my eyes fixated on his once handsome face. A single bead of sweat runs down his forehead, glistening in the flickering candle light. His lips are paralysed in a quivering circle; his eyes resemble those of a terror-stricken animal, bloodshot and frantic as they scan the room for a method of escape.

Inside my head I laugh bitterly. Doesn’t Philip know I already drugged the guards outside, so no one will hear his screams? He is my prisoner; I will not allow him to escape the fate he unknowingly declared for himself when he cut a scar in my heart so deep it would never heal.

It’s taken me two years to hunt him down. Two years of sleeping rough, surviving on little or nothing, with no one to turn to for aid. The only thing that has kept me alive was the eternal thirst for revenge that has numbed my heart to stone and transformed me into something inhumane.

“Elizabeth,” he rasps, pleadingly. “Please. Please, Bess.”

Anger surges like fire through my body at the sound of my old pet name, inflaming my heart and flowing down to my fingertips. I clasp the knife harder, and the little colour left in Philip’s face disappears. Every nerve in my body explodes in fury and adrenaline; vengeance is so unbearably close.

Then I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the crude blade of the knife. A girl, with dark hair, hacked away at neck-length, framing her hollow face so covered in filth I hardly recognise her, stares back. I immediately think of my mother, and pain stabs into my heart as I am dragged back to the day of her murder.

He came in the dead of the night.

I awoke from my sleep at the piercing sound of my mother’s scream. I hadn’t ever experienced true fear before in my life, I’d never had a reason to be afraid, but hearing her voice suddenly struck pure terror into my heart. At first I lay, petrified, desperately trying to comprehend what was happening. Thieves were certainly not uncommon in our village, but I knew we possessed nothing truly worth stealing.

Suddenly, I came to my senses and immediately flung myself out of my bed, rushing to my mother’s room. I had to find her.

But the screaming had stopped. I was too late.

He crouched beside her limp body, clenching a knife streaked with blood. My mother’s blood.

In his other hand was a small glistening ring. I took a sharp breath inwards as I recognised the precious object; it belonged to my father, a victim of the plague that struck many years ago. He gave my mother the ring on his deathbed. It had been the only thing we had left to remind us of him after he disappeared from our lives forever, the only true treasure we would ever possess. Of course my mother would have put up a fight.

Now this man had murdered her for it.

I could not scream or cry. All emotions seemed to have left my body completely, replacing them with a monotonous pit of emptiness. I stared at him, the man who had just annihilated everything I loved and cared for in a heartbeat.

The killer’s face was concealed by a piece of cloth, tied around his head, revealing only his eyes. He gazed back at me, clearly determining how much of a threat I posed to him. A girl of my age was no match for a man with a knife, but if I screamed for help now, surely someone would hear me.

A few agonising seconds passed. His only way out was through the doorway in which I now stood. My mind screamed for me to step away, allow him to escape or I would surely end up with the same fate as my mother. But suddenly a desperate urge to seek revenge took a hold of my mind, pumping adrenaline into my blood and filling me with a fury I’d never before experienced. I would make him pay.

I lunged. Immediately, he made for the door, but my hands closed around the cloth hiding his face.

My eyes widened in dismay, for the face beneath the cloth was Philip’s, my childhood sweetheart. Philip, the boy who worked at the baker’s down the street, who had sworn to love me for all eternity, who had even spoken of us marrying when we became old enough. Philip, who had just murdered my mother and stolen my most prized possession. He was my most trusted companion; I had told him of the ring many years ago and now his greed had got the better of him.

“Philip?” I whispered in horrified disbelief.

“Bess. I …” There was regret in Philip’s voice but clearly he had no words to justify what he had done. He hesitated, but then backed out of the door as I sunk to my knees beside my mother’s body.

I lost all track of time, though it took a while for the heartbreak to sink in. I had nothing, no one, nowhere to go to. He’d taken everything from me.

And then the anger came, beginning as a tiny spark, but gradually growing to a roaring fire. Only one thing would extinguish it.

“Mother,” I whispered into the night air. “I will avenge you. I promise.”

“Bess, please don’t.” Philip’s gutless pleading strains me back into reality. “I’ll give you anything.”

“I want my mother back!” My voice breaks as tears suddenly come cascading down my cheeks. My hatred and rage vanishes, replaced only with grief and longing to be with my mother.

Finally I accept the truth. Murdering Philip won’t bring her back. Taking his life will only make me the same person he is.

I cannot keep my promise.

By Amber Lahdelma, year 7, Tunbridge Wells Girls’ Grammar School, winner of National Short Story Week Young Writer 2015

Amber’s The Promise and other stories is published together with 30 other highly commended short stories from the National Short Story Week Young Writer competition. 100% of the royalties from this anthology will be donated to Teenage Cancer Trust, to help young people and their families who are going through a challenging time in their lives.

The young writers in this anthology are not afraid to address difficult subjects and ideas, and their stories tackle moral dilemmas, terrorism, betrayal and war. There are creepy tales with a twist, and lighter moments of comedy too, as well as poignant tales about what our families mean to us. You can buy the anthology here.

Find out how to enter this year’s National Short Story Week competition here!

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