Wrong Crowd (Kingsley Academy Book 1)

by Lisa Helen Gray

  I walk up the winding staircase, coming to Nova’s side of the house. She said she liked the view from her window so chose to move to this side of the house. She shared with my mum up until they turned thirteen and both needed their own space. It was weird hearing her talk about her. It was like she was talking about another family member I hadn’t met yet. And I guess I hadn’t.

  The library is the first door I come to. I hadn’t been inside yet, but she had one downstairs that was bigger than the public library back where I come from, and I made sure to take a good look around when I was in there.

  Stepping in, I see it’s a quarter of the size of the one downstairs. It has a half moon platform where it rises a few steps off the ground and houses shelves of books.

  God, I love the smell of books.

  It was the only thing I could do back home that didn’t cost money and kept me out of the cold and away from my mum when she had people around in the day. The night was another matter.

  On the bottom floor, a long, semi-circle, dark grey sofa runs along the banister and a black crystal table is set in the centre of the floor with black swede chairs around it.

  A lone book on the table beckons me. It’s just there, so out of place when everything else in the room is spick and span.

  Weird.

  It’s like someone strategically placed it there.

  I walk over, running my finger along the shiny surface before reaching it.

  It’s crinkled, thick from the used pages, and clearly old by the colouring. On the front are doodles of hearts, stars and inspirational quotes. ‘Live today like tomorrow will never come’. I smile, wondering what famous poet came up with that. It symbolises my entire life. It’s how I’ve lived it.

  The men in my mum’s life were dangerous. There were a few here and there that respected me, but for the most part, they were dangerous, cunning and untrustworthy. Given the chance, they would have hurt me—some even came close before I managed to escape. So I knew I had been living on borrowed time; it wouldn’t have taken long for one of them to succeed. I knew staying with her would get me hurt or killed, especially if she owed them money.

  Opening the cover, the air rushes from my lungs when I see, ‘This diary belongs to Cara Monroe. Nova, KEEP OUT!’ written in bold letters.

  I stagger to the side, gripping the book in my hand.

  She kept a diary?

  This is my mum’s.

  The book isn’t filled; it was probably one of the last ones she wrote by the looks of it. Needing some insight into who my mother was, I move over to the long, dark grey sofa and take a seat.

  I swallow past the lump in my throat, staring down at the worn, pink book. For some reason, I feel like I’m invading her privacy. Not my mum’s. She didn’t know how to keep anything private. But for the girl who wrote inside this book.

  But I need to know who this girl was.

  I need to know why everyone hated her so much. Why Kaiden, his friend and brothers have a problem with her. I need to understand, because from what Nova said, Mum left before she even knew she was pregnant with me, and Kaiden and Grant would have been far too young to remember her.

  Giving in, I skip to the last entry, needing to see what made her stop. At least that much. Did she just grow out of keeping a diary? Does it explain why she left?

  My heart beats wildly in my chest as I read her words.

  July 20th, 1995

  I hate my life.

  I wish I was dead.

  I hate them.

  I really hate them, and I wish they’d all burn in hell for what they did to me.

  They took my innocence.

  They stripped parts of my soul away from me, bit by bit, while they pinned me down and defiled me.

  They fucking destroyed me.

  They didn’t care how much I begged, how much I pleaded. They didn’t care. Now I don’t care about anything.

  I hope they all drop dead.

  I wish they’d drop dead.

  My stomach twists in knots at her angry, scrawled words. I swallow back the bile rising in my throat when the words finally sink in.

  She was raped.

  By more than one person, if I’m reading this correctly. The way the letters are indented into the page tells me how angry she was, as well as how rough the lettering is. She could have worded it wrong in her haste though.

  Even as I try to make an excuse, I know she meant every single word she wrote on that page.

  This is where it all began. This is what changed my mum. It doesn’t excuse my upbringing, nor my mum’s behaviour, but this was the root of it all. I can feel it in my bones. If this hadn’t happened, maybe my life would have been different.

  Or maybe I wouldn’t have been born?

  Taking a deep breath, I turn the page and continue reading.

  I wish for a lot of things. I wish I never went to that party. I wish I could forget. Forget what they did.

  The drugs T.J is providing are helping. They dull the pain, the memories I’ve had to live with for the past seven weeks. It helps me forget, forget what they did. But even they aren’t as effective anymore. Nothing can erase what they did to me. No matter what I do to try and numb the pain, to feel like the girl I once was, I remember. I remember it all.

  It’s always there. Every time I see their faces, hear their voices or have to listen to people talk about how great they are.

  And now I’ve got a demon growing inside of me. I want to take a knife to my stomach, to get it out any way possible. I don’t even care if it kills me, as long as I get it out of me. It’s a part of them and it’s inside of me. I feel like I did that night all over again.

  The few times I’ve thought about my future, I’ve pictured the perfect family, where my children have everything they need and love me unconditionally. I can never love this baby. I hate it. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it. And every moment it lives on inside of me is another day I loathe who I am, who they are. My skin is crawling and my stomach is red raw from where I’ve clawed at my skin. I don’t care. I feel sick to my stomach knowing it’s inside of me.

  That night, they didn’t just rape me, they impregnated me. And I want it gone.

  I flick back to the previous page, my breathing heavy. This can’t be happening. It can’t be. I feel sick to my stomach, and it threatens to come up when my hands shake and the page floats back down.

  When I finally manage to get the page to turn, I look at the date again, my shoulders sagging with relief.

  I’m not a product of rape.

  It would have explained why my mum couldn’t stand the sight of me. It would have explained a lot of things in my life.

  This was six years before I was born though.

  The relief I feel that it isn’t me is short-lived, and a moment of self-loathing penetrates. There’s still a child out there. Or maybe she lost it. Or worse… No. I can’t think about any of that. I can’t. She was young, too young to be going through this.

  What happened?

  Did Nova know? Did any of the family know? And why didn’t any of them get her help? I have so many questions and my mum isn’t here to answer any of them. I wish she had told me this, made me understand her. I could have gotten her help, the treatment she needed.

  And her words on how she pictured raising a child, her family… a pang hits my chest, and I don’t know what to think about her anymore.

  I hate whoever did this to her, who ruined the girl she was and made her into the woman she was when she died. I hate them. I hate them for everything.

  I flick through the pages, nearly tearing them in the process. My feelings are a mixture of anger and sadness. I want to cry for my mum, for the baby she carried who was innocent, no matter how they were conceived, and for the life she left behind. The night she was raped, Cara Monroe died. The person left behind was just a shell; she was barely human. And that breaks my heart a little bit more.

  I look down at the pages, blinking my tears away as I carry on
reading. I won’t cry. I won’t.

  And what’s worse is I don’t have anyone I can turn to, no one that will believe me anyway. I can’t tell Nova. She’s distracted, in love, and doesn’t have time for me. I tried. I tried so many times after that night when it became apparent I couldn’t forget. I needed her and she wasn’t there.

  I hate her too. I hate that it happened to me and not her. And I can’t live with myself for thinking that. I’d never wish this upon anyone.

  I can’t tell my parents either.

  They think I don’t know, but I do. I know why they raped me. It was all for the fame and fortune they’d get from being with me. And I know why they didn’t pick Nova. I know it all. It wasn’t hard to work out.

  And my granddad won’t stand for a ‘scandal’ getting out into the papers. No. He’ll make me marry whose baby I’m carrying. He’ll make me stand up and tell people I’m lying.

  They all will.

  And I’d rather die than live a life where that is my future. One way or another, I will get this thing out of me. I will make them pay for what they did to me, make them feel what I felt.

  I sit back against the chair, reading the last page once more before closing the book.

  My mum was raped.

  If I hadn’t read the words in the book, seen and felt every word she wrote, I wouldn’t have believed her. My mum never cared who she had sex with. Didn’t care where or when either. If it got her what she wanted, she did it, and unfortunately, growing up, I was a witness to it.

  I want to know if Nova knew, but I’m afraid if I mention it, she’ll shut down and take measures into making sure I never find out what happened. I can’t trust her. How can I? Her twin sister was suffering and she didn’t even take notice, didn’t add anything up.

  A part of me wants to leave, to take as much as I can carry and get the hell out of here.

  My biggest question right now, is who the hell is she talking about? She doesn’t mention names. The only names she’s written is Nova’s and T.J’s, and that is either his name or his initials.

  I open the book back up, going to the entry before her last, and my eyebrows draw together.

  June 1st, 1995

  Dear Diary,

  I can’t wait to go to the party this weekend. Mum and Dad don’t know Nova and I are planning on sneaking out. We’re going to meet the others beyond the gate in case one of us gets caught sneaking out. That way, the rest of us get to party.

  Life is so good right now. Mum asked me what I want to do when I finish school. Of course, I’m going to the Academy once I’ve finished my A-Levels. They’ve opened a new wing that will specialise in medicine. I’m going be a surgeon. I want to heal people.

  And I won’t have to do any lessons during the holidays. Today, I hacked into the school emails and found out I passed my exams. I can’t wait for my future.

  ‘Be kind, even when those around you aren’t.’

  Cara

  P.S. They were acting even weirder today. I don’t know what’s going on, but I don’t have a good feeling. It’s like they’re planning something. I swear, if they push us in a pool again, I’m going to be so annoyed with them.

  P.S.S. S.F. is being clingy too. I think Nova likes it though. He doesn’t even let her out of his sight if she leaves the house. It’s weird as hell because he never acted like that before.

  It’s like someone spiked their drinks at school and made everyone act weird.

  Maybe T.J. spiked the water. He’s always known for raiding his dad’s practice. I’m pretty sure he sells more than pharmaceuticals though.

  Anyway, until tomorrow. <3

  The difference in the writing has my eyes watering. In this entry, she’s happy, easy going and fun, and excited about her future. In the last entry, she just wants it all to end. She doesn’t want tomorrow to happen.

  She wanted to be a surgeon? My mum couldn’t even put dinner together. This was all too much.

  All of it.

  I don’t even know how to feel about her anymore.

  One thing is for sure, whoever hurt her was definitely the reason she changed. There’s no mistaking Mum was meant for great things.

  And S.F.? Who was that?

  Why couldn’t she have left a decoding sheet?

  “Hey, there you are,” Selina greets, popping her head around the door.

  Feeling the blood rush from my face, I hide the diary under the pillow behind me and stand up. She’s staring down at her phone, but looks up when I knock into the table.

  “I went down to get a drink and passed your room. When I saw your door open and light on and you weren’t there, I thought you were sick like me, but then I remembered you didn’t drink. You didn’t drink, right?”

  I force out a dry laugh as I shake my head. “Hangover?”

  She nods, looking a little green, her red hair shoved in a bun at the top of her head. “Yeah. I really didn’t think those couple of drinks would affect me,” she explains, before looking around the room, her lip curling. “What are you doing in here?”

  “I couldn’t sleep. I was going to get a book to read.”

  She looks at me with round eyes. “Yeah, you can borrow my kindle. I’m pretty sure the books in here are as old as this house.”

  I nod and follow her out, but I can’t help but take one last look at the diary. I want to get it but I can’t risk Selina seeing it.

  I can’t risk anyone seeing it. It’s basically evidence.

  And my earlier thoughts of keeping it from Nova go out of the window. I want answers. I need them. She was my mum, and if I feel like Nova is lying to me, I’ll go searching for answers myself.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  I groan as bright sunlight streams into my room, piercing my eyelids. God, my mouth is as dry as a desert, my eyes are stinging, and I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.

  Selina dragged me into her room last night, after finding me in the library, and spent fifteen minutes showing me how to use her kindle. She then proceeded to go through each of her favourite books, explaining in detail why she loved them so much. I had to sit for an hour listening to her rave about lads she was in love with who weren’t even real. It was kind of torture, but a welcome distraction from the turmoil going through my head.

  By the time I got back to my room, I was completely knackered. I crawled back into bed and fell straight to sleep, face first on my pillow. I didn’t think of the diary once I was utterly exhausted.

  I rub sleep from my eyes, still stunned I managed to get to sleep after last night.

  What happened with Kaiden seems like a lifetime ago after reading Mum’s diary.

  The whole situation regarding my mum is fucked up. I don’t know what to believe anymore.

  Some part of me has always questioned what made my mum the way she was. She wasn’t a good person, and an even worse parent, but people aren’t born like that; they are made, whether it’s self-destruction or a traumatic event.

  The little girl inside me, who desperately sought her mother’s love, wants it to be the latter, no matter how morbid that sounds. But I don’t want to go looking for excuses if there aren’t any.

  Those words in her diary haunt me, even awake. It’s such a contradiction to the woman I knew. My heart breaks a little for both of them. I don’t want to care—she never cared about me—but I do, because at the end of the day, she was still the woman who birthed me. And I never want to become the person she was. I might not give two fucks about stuff, but I still have a heart.

  I pick up my phone to check the time, groaning when I see it’s eleven. Rolling out of bed, I quickly take care of business in the bathroom before grabbing a long cardigan from my wardrobe. I’m still tired, and today, I want to chill.

  My stomach rumbles, reminding me I haven’t eaten. I make my way out of my room, intending to head downstairs, but then pause, remembering the diary I shoved at the back of the cushion last night.

  I rush past Selina’s closed door as qui
etly as I can, in case she’s still in there, and head towards the other side of the house.

  I’m out of breath by the time I reach the library, closing the door before rushing over to the sofa. I rip away the cushion where I sat last night, not finding the diary.

  Panicking, I pull off the next one. Then the next. And the next.

  It’s not here.

  There’s no other place it could have gone. I check again, feeling my heart race. It’s not here.

  I run my fingers through my hair, looking around the room—for what, I have no idea; maybe some clue as to where it’s gone?

  Fuck!

  I sit back on my arse, hugging my knees to my chest, when the realisation someone moved it hits me. What if I never find it? I should have come back for it last night, after Selina went back to bed. Now it’s gone. I’d wanted to start from the beginning, to see if any of the other entries gave a clue as to what happened. Maybe someone was bothering her before or had tried to hurt her before. I needed answers, if for nothing else than my own peace of mind.

  I need to get out of this room, away from temptation to smash the room up until I find it.

  Slowly, I get to my feet and make my way out of the library, my shoulders sagging when I give the sofa one final look.

  Someone knew that diary was there. Someone who put the book there in the first place.

  As I make my way down the side stairs, I hear voices from somewhere inside the house. As I head towards the kitchen, the voices get louder, and I identify Selina and Annette straight away.

  I’m surprised when I hear Nova’s voice carry along the hallway. I didn’t think she’d be back until later this evening at the earliest. I had hoped to have the day to get my head straight.

  My blood boils the minute I step inside the kitchen and see her happy face. How could she not know her twin needed her? Aren’t they supposed to have some kind of psychic connection? I just can’t believe someone who is a lawyer didn’t see her twin was in pain and needed her. She’s meant to be good at reading people.