Page 7 of Savage Vicious Heir: Part Two

Even if he wasn’t the one to send those messages, to set me up, he still showed his true colours tonight when he stood by and did nothing while his brother tore me to shreds in front of their dates and an entire pub full of people.

Frustrated at myself, I shove my phone in my bag and climb out of my car, trudging towards the house.

It looms over me, dark and foreboding, as if to say, ‘We knew you’d be back, we knew you wouldn’t survive out there.’

And I hate it.

I hate that there’s even an ounce of truth to it.

But I can’t go back to All Hallows’ tonight.

I can’t call Tally or the girls or Mr Porter or the dorm aunt.

I just can’t.

So I dig my key out of my purse and slide it into the lock, opening the door.

A film of fusty air greets me as I step inside.

The house feels strange.

Unfamiliar.

Vast and empty.

The silence is deafening, not even the gentle muffle of my sobs drowning out the hollow loneliness I feel.

All because I was tricked by a dangerous boy dressed up in an expensive, pretty package.

Nausea washes through me and I sway on my feet, before darting down the hall and running into the downstairs bathroom.

I drop to my knees and wrench the toilet lid up just in time for my meagre stomach contents to make an appearance.

I purge my soul into the bowl. Wishing I could erase every memory, every touch and kiss.

Wishing I could erase the moment I willingly handed Elliot my fragile heart.

Trusting him not to break it.

After cleaning myself up, I manage to find a lonely glass discarded at the back of one of the kitchen cabinets and pour myself some water.

It’s late and I’m exhausted, so I drag myself upstairs into my old bedroom.

It’s an empty shell now, most of my belongings tucked safely away in my dorm room. But it still holds a sense of familiarity that eases the storm raging inside me a little.

Kicking off my boots, I undress down to my underwear and climb into my bed and pull the covers up high, relieved that Maureen thought to keep the beds dressed for the listing photos.

I never wanted to come back here, but now, in the dead of night, it feels fitting.

My life was irrevocably changed here. First losing my mother, then my father.

And now losing the last shred of hope that I have a place here in Saints Cross, a home.

I thought Elliot could be that for me.

I thought he was the missing piece to my tragic life story.

But he was nothing more than a fantasy.

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