My parents had loved her more. A lot more. It never bothered me because I had my friends; I had my grandparents who loved and adored me.
After she died, my parents made sure to let me know every chance they got that they wished it had been me. It didn’t matter that Lara took drugs of her own free will, only that it wasn’t me who had died.
I hated them—I still do. All my life I had tried to get them to love me, but I was a mistake, something they never planned for or wanted—and couldn’t get rid of.
For two years their damning words ate away at me, leaving me a shell of the person I once was.
But then, one day, I got news that my best friend, Lake, was alive. She hadn’t died, like I always feared, but ran away, escaping the accident she thought she caused. She’s happy now, with a new family as well as back with her own. And is even in love.
From that day, I built myself up the best I could to give me the strength to leave the house. I went to my psychiatrist every week and started taking medicine.
With the help of my grandparents, my cousin, and the money I made from self-publishing books, I was able to move out.
The only thing my parents hated about me leaving was that I was taking their person to blame for their favourite daughter’s death away from them. They screamed, shouted, made sure to tell me until they were blue in the face that I’d be back, but would never be welcome.
I wouldn’t.
I’d never go back.
They helped destroy the girl I once was, but with months of intense therapy, I’ve finally managed to say goodbye to her and welcome the new me.
I still have a way to go before I’m fully recovered. I still suffer with insomnia, and when I do manage to sleep, I have nightmares, from the night my sister died to the night I was attacked by my best friend’s boyfriend.
Another person who has been huge help in my recovery is Banner. George Banner. Though we never really spoke in school, since the night I was attacked by Darren, we’ve become really close. I couldn’t have got through everything if he hadn’t been there, supporting me every step of the way.
He saved me, not only from Darren, but from myself.
He would sneak through my bedroom window and talk to me about everything and anything, not caring if I contributed to the conversations or not. Sometimes, he would just sit with me, both of us silent, just to make sure I never felt alone.
I’d be so lost in grief I couldn’t see the light at the end of the tunnel. It wasn’t until he went off to college that I realised how I’d come to rely on his visits, how they would keep me chained to reality.
Now, I’m living with my cousin, Mark, and his boyfriend, Levi. I haven’t met Levi in person yet, but I have spoken to him during one of my many Facetime chats with Mark.
Both are still away on holiday for another week, which leaves me alone in this tiny flat. I also won’t see Banner for another couple of days as he’s travelling with his football team for a match against another college.
Despite being close—so close it feels like losing a limb when he’s not around—our relationship has never extended beyond friendship. But recently, my feelings towards him have changed. My heart pounds whenever he’s close, and I find myself wanting to touch him, to know what his lips feel like. And it’s growing more powerful with every passing moment. It’s hard not to want him when he’s everything a girl could want in boy.
Shaking my thoughts from my mind, I finish throwing my hair up in a messy bun before making my way outside.
My hands tremble as soon as the door clicks shut behind me, but I clench them into fists, refusing any trepidation an outlet, knowing I can’t revert to my old ways, when I was too scared to leave the house, too afraid of what people would say or do. I couldn’t take the condolences any longer. I couldn’t take another pitiful look passed my way. I can’t be that person anymore—I refuse to.
But being here is a fresh start for me.
It didn’t help that I was scared of my own shadow, afraid of what would happen to me next. Bad luck comes in threes, and already I had lost my sister and got attacked by someone I never really saw as a threat—just a dickhead.
Life had a way of changing, though. Now, I was attending late-night classes at Whithall University, which is a massive step for me. The thought of being around so many people during daytime classes is enough to break me out in hives. Maybe in time I will get there, but at the moment, I just want to take things slowly, to catch my breath.
I’m still not a people person, and I don’t think I ever will be, but I can only take one step at a time. I’ve taken the first step by moving out of my parent’s toxic home. Now I’m moving onto the second:
University.
Jordan, a girl referred to me by the college to show me around, meets me outside our building. It’s drizzling with rain, the night sky filled with dark clouds, not a single star in sight.
She’s scary beautiful; she has a Mylee Cyrus/ Kelly Osbourne thing going on. Her hair is cut into a bob, the ends pink on one side and the other shaved to the scalp.
My gaze drifts over her tattoos and piercings, already liking her from the image alone. She doesn’t dress or style for anyone other than herself. She looks fierce, and if I had to guess, I’d say she has a fierce personality, too.
She steps away from the lamppost she was leaning against, smiling. “Hey, I’m Jordan, we spoke on the phone. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Hi.” I wave, feeling a tad nervous. I glance around, ignoring the rising panic in my chest. If I don’t do this now, I’ll never do it. My mind will tell me I’m too scared, when in fact, I’m just a nervous mess. I need to remind myself nothing is going to happen. “Thank you again for doing this. I bet you have better things to do than babysit me.”
She waves me off. “It’s fine, I don’t mind—and I offered. Mr. Hanna said you were taking a few classes to improve your writing skills?”
“I am,” I tell her, not explaining further. I took some online classes when I was back home, but that’s it. I’m not about to tell her I’m an indie author who writes under a pen name. I’d rather stay anonymous for as long as I possibly can. Only Banner, my grandparents, and Mark know I write books, just not which ones. I’m not confident enough in my ability for them to read them, even if Banner hounds me relentlessly for the titles.
“How long have you lived here?” she asks as we begin to walk.
I glance over at Jordan, smiling. “Only a few weeks. I moved in with my cousin, Mark, and his boyfriend, Levi. But they’re away on holiday at the moment. It’s why I signed up for a tour guide. Mark was going to show me around, but I thought I’d get it out of the way while I had nothing else to do.”
“I can understand that. I got lost so many times when I first came here, but luckily for you, you’re only sectioned in one building. We should be able to meet Mr. Flint, your Historical Literature teacher, and Mr. Hanna, your teacher for English Literature. I don’t know Mr. Flint—I’ve never taken one of his classes—but Mr. Hanna is a brilliant teacher. I had him last year.”
“Did you enjoy it? I hear it’s hard.”
She seems to mull that over, tilting her head from side to side. “Um, not really, but I understood it. Most people take the course to learn a new language, not to improve on one they already know. But he is a good teacher and I’ve not heard anyone moan over him being unfair.”
“What are you hoping to do with your degree?” I ask, as there are a million and one things you can do with an English major.
“I’m a blogger at the moment. I run a blog called Whithall Scandals, but after, I’d like to maybe teach or write. I’m not sure yet. I’ve still got time before I have to decide, anyway.”
“Whithall Scandals,” I murmur, wondering where I’ve heard that name before. When it comes to me, my head snaps in her direction and my eyes widen. “Oh, my Gosh, you’re the one who helped all those girls, aren’t you?”
She flinches, and I inwardly kick myself for my
lack of social skills. “Yeah. It’s been a rough time here, but I promise everything is okay now.”
“Wasn’t there a murder a few weeks back?” I ask dubiously.
She chuckles, running her fingers through her hair. “You’re right. It sucks it happened, but as far as we know, it was a one-time incident. We do have protocols here to keep us safe, and they are encouraging students to abide by them.”
“What, like the buddy system?” I ask, remembering how my friend, Lake, and I would go to the toilet together at parties.
“Yeah. I’m sorry. I’m not really doing a good job, am I—to help make you feel safe?”
I’m startled by her comment, not knowing what she means. The thought of her knowing about my past is enough to send bile to the back of my throat. “It’s fine. You’re only telling me the truth, and I appreciate that. I know now to be more vigilant.”
She gives me a warm smile and I relax. “Thank you. If you do ever need someone to come with you somewhere, you have my email and phone number. Just message or call me.”
“I will, thank you.”
“Okay, this is the English building,” she says, gesturing to the huge, old, stone building in front of us. We’re in a courtyard, wooden benches scattered here and there, and tall, neatly trimmed hornbeam trees travelling the circumference. “That entrance will take you to Mr. Hanna’s classroom, and this one leads you to Mr. Flint’s,” she tells me, leading me over to the door she explained Mr. Flint’s classroom would be at.
There’s a few cleaners in the halls, polishing the floor, but other than that, it’s quiet. It’s kind of creepy. I shiver, running my hands up and down my arms.
“This place is giving me chills,” I whisper.
She laughs, and the sound echoes down the hall. “It is. I’ve never liked this building. It’s one of the older ones. The library, if you ever need to use it, is just on the other side of this one. If you turn left at the path instead of walking straight ahead to come here, it will lead you right to it.”
“I’ll have to remember that. I want to check it out. My cousin said they have a really good collection of classics.”
“They do. My friend works there. There’s also a section of books you can’t check out due to them being first editions, but she’s cool and lets me sneak them out. I read The Great Gatsby before moving on to some Jane Austen. I’m still going through them.”
“I’m definitely going to have to check it out.” I smile, excited now about going. “Can we read them in the library?”
“Yeah, you just can’t check some of them out. If you want, I can introduce you to Allie. She’s one of the librarians. She won’t mind you taking one home as long as you promise to bring it back.”
“You’d do that for me?” I ask, more excited than ever. Some of the books in the library are legendary. I looked up the history of the library, finding out it has some rare treasures inside that are locked in cases at the back.
“Yeah, of course. I know they’re closed for another two days—someone broke in and made a mess of the place—but it will be open after that.”
I gasp, horrified. “None of the book were ruined, were they?”
She giggles, gazing at me with amusement. “A few, but most are tech books or something boring.”
“Good.” I sigh, relaxing, but immediately come alert when she taps on a door with her knuckles.
A deep voice echoes from the other side. “Come in.”
She pushes the door open, sticking her head through first. “Hi, Mr. Flint, I’m Jordan. I’m here to show your new student, Emma Burton, around.”
“Come in, come in.”
I don’t know what I expected when I thought of my teacher, but it wasn’t someone so young. He must be in his late twenties at the most.
He stands when we enter, a smile lighting his face as he reaches out to shake my hand. I smile, taking his hand politely, trying to slow my breathing at the contact.
I hate being touched by people I don’t know. It’s something I’ve not been able to overcome since Darren attacked me all those years ago.
“Hi, I’m Emma. I’ll be starting in a week.”
He doesn’t let go of my hand, and my palms sweat. “It’s always great to meet new students.”
I pull my hand out of his grasp, using more force than I should have had to. When I look up, something in his eyes has me stepping back, nearly bumping into Jordan.
“Do you have a list of materials she’ll need, and her curriculum?” Jordan asks when I’m too tongue-tied to speak.
He looks away, still smiling as he addresses her. “Of course. One moment.”
I stay silent, avoiding Jordan’s questioning gaze. I smile politely out of habit and take the papers he hands me. “Thank you.”
“When do you start?” he asks, his smile slimy.
I think about it for a minute, knowing I start later than other students since I had to register with a new therapist. “I think next Wednesday.”
“I’ll look forward to seeing you.”
I look away, biting my lip.
“Um, okay, we’ll let you get back to your work. I just wanted to show her where her classes will be.”
“It’s fine. I’m always happy to be interrupted by two pretty ladies.”
I watch Jordan’s expression turn from relaxed and happy, to a little taken aback.
“Okay, well… bye,” Jordan says slowly, and I turn, ready to get the hell out of here.
“Bye, and see you soon, Emma,” he says.
I glance over my shoulder, finding him watching my arse, and flinch.
Pervert.
Having him as a teacher is going to be a bad idea. I can already feel it.
CHAPTER THREE
I wake up screaming, my nightmare holding me in its clutches. Instead of Darren’s face attacking me in my dreams, I see Mr. Flint, my new teacher.
I sit up, wiping my sweaty, clinging hair from my face. I run a hand over my face before looking up and surveying my new room.
It still saddens me there’s no trace of my sister here. Only me. She was a girly girl, and I’m just a plain Jane. We were two different souls, but we were best friends.
And now she’s gone.
Having the nightmare still fresh in my mind, I think back to my attack. I still don’t remember much, only parts, and even then, they are blurred.
When they arrested Darren, he was charged with assault and attempted rape. He admitted to the assault, but said he had no intention of raping me, so he wasn’t sentenced for it. I don’t know what his intentions were. All I know is, that night I was afraid for my life. I thought I was going to die, and at one point, I woke up wishing I had.
When Banner found me, my dress had been torn off and Darren was on top of me. If he hadn’t of come, I dread to think what would have happened. I was in hospital for a week, recovering from broken bones and lacerations to my face.
Shit. Banner.
I jump from my bed, flinging my drawers open and grabbing the first items I find, before heading to the bathroom.
I promised Banner we could meet up and go for breakfast. He knows about my issues and has never tried to push me to do something I didn’t want to. When he sensed my reluctance, he calmed me down and promised me the place was quiet, that only the factory workers eat there.
I rush through my shower, nearly forgetting to wash out my conditioner. I’ve barely finished drying my hair when the door knocks. Sighing, I look in the mirror, wishing I could do something to cover up the dark circles under my eyes. Banner has seen me at my worst, so I know it doesn’t faze him. I just want him to see me differently now.
I’ve been in love with him for a while, my feelings so strong it hurts to deny them. He’s only ever been the best to me, but over time, over chats and space apart, my feelings for him grew. I just wish he felt the same way about me, but sometimes I wonder if he sticks with me because he feels sorry for me.
I run to the door, taking one last deep b
reath before opening it, pasting on a bright smile. “Hey, I’ve missed you.”
He beams at me, stepping inside the flat and lifting me in one fell swoop. He spins us round and I laugh, wrapping my arms around his neck.
Yes, I’ve definitely missed this—missed him.
“I’m so glad you’re here. I hated that you were so far away.”
He puts me down gently and I look up at him, still smiling so bright I feel like my face might crack. “Well, now we’re five minutes away from each other.”
He grins, looking so devasting, I swoon. “Hell, yeah we are. You ready to go out for breakfast or is there some other stuff you need to do?”
My nerves are still a little bit wobbly, but with Banner, I can do anything. He makes me feel safe. “Yep. I want to hear all about football, your friends, and what you did on your break.”
“Let’s go, then, because I have a lot to tell you. Tom, one of the lads on my team, hooked up with this chick when we were at an away game and took her back to his room. Rafner, our other team player, is sharing a room with him, right,” he says with enthusiasm. “Then, he wakes up in the morning to find Tom cuddled up to him and throws a fit. The chick he got with ended up in another player’s bed—Ross—because Tom fell asleep before she finished in the bathroom or some shit. Anyway, the two of them were shit-arsed drunk, so they slept in. Coach went to see what the hold-up was, and we followed. We managed to get pictures.”
“What about the chick?” I ask, stepping outside into the drizzling rain. He tucks me into his side, shielding me from the light downpour as we run to his parked car.
I close my eyes, revelling in the feel of being in his arms. It’s moments like these that I cherish, because I know if he ever gets a girlfriend, I’ll lose them.
He laughs, his chest vibrating against my side. “She was still with Ross outside the door and spilled the whole story. Tom had pointed her out and asked her why she wasn’t the one in bed. It’s why we got back early. Coach didn’t want to do any stops as punishment.”
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