Page 137 of Tricky Girls

‘I want to make some requests.’

She bumps me out the way, taking possession of my laptop. She strokes over the trackpad, dirties the keys with her fingerprints. I want to take her vodka and pour the whole lot over just to rid it of her touch.

She sits on the arm of my chair, her short dress riding up more. Her cuts are so stark. There are new ones. Freshly slashed. I look but I don’t see the one my knife made.

‘You should put something else on.’ When Tilda glances at me, I nod to her scars. ‘No one wants to see how fucked up you are.’

I expect a clever retort but there’s only silence when none comes. Tilda stares at me, unmoving like I’ve taken the wind out of her sails, a hint of hurt in her eyes. And shit, are thosetears?Come the fuck on.

Haz frowns, grasping Tilda’s wrist like a parent whose kid’s been hurt. ‘Out of order, man. Fucking apologise.’

I shake my head, escaping to the kitchen to make up a drink. I take my whiskey from the top shelf, replacing it back there afterwards. No fucker’s getting their hands on my alcohol tonight.

I take my time in here, loitering against the counter, strangely reluctant to venture back to the lounge.

So maybe it’s not just Tilda’s feelings that have been hurt. Haz and Elly—they used to be mine. To see them take her side, regardless of how much of a dick I’m being, it chafes.

If only they knew the truth. That Tilda’s not just some pretty girl with a sob story. That she ruined my life ten years ago and seems to be back for more of the same, quietly and systematically dismantling everything I love.

She’s got my home, my cousin, my friends.

What’s fucking left at this point?

I camp on my chair for most of the night, nursing whiskey and entertaining anyone who comes over. Some girls try it, Blakely just wants to talk books, but mostly I’m left alone.

I like house parties but I never relax when the house is mine. Haz calls me The Mum, always making sure no one’s spilling shit on the sofa or dirtying up the walls. There’re still bloody handprints in the bathroom from first year’s Halloween bash.

I catch Skylar’s eyes and raise my drink. She smiles and turns back to Haz, her tiny hand on her back where they sit on the sofa. Dumb bitch. Doesn’t she know Haz is smitten? Yeah, she was down for it at Christmas but Tilda’s in the room now.

Won’t be doing that again anytime soon. Haz is a hog of the highest order. I was at the edge of the bed shivering half the time. Skylar just fucking laughed at me.

Until I stuck my strap down her throat. That shut her up quick.

I keep seeing flashes of red, Elly always right there too. They’re not doing much to hide it, but I’ll keep their secret. Anything to help Elly out after her shitty past month. I’ll cash in the favour one day. I’m sure there’ll be cause.

I keep my eyes resolutely on the telly, unable to bear the sight of those cuts. They make me seethe, teeth gritting so hard they squeak. I want to scream at her to stop as much as I want to be the one who’s cutting her.

London’s splashed in all its glory on the screen. A drone zooms over the Thames, drinking in the sight of the London Eye all lit up. What I wouldn’t do to jump in those black waters, to shock this feeling from my body.

To take Tilda down with me.

Sitting up, I pat around for my crumpled packet of cigs.

I might not have access to a body of water, but I do have an empty landing window with a decent enough view.

I glance at the clock. It’s nearing midnight anyway and I’m not in the mood to be snogging some rando.

Tilda

The sight of the clock sends a frisson of excitement through me. Elly hasn’t exactly said she’ll be my New Year’s kiss but with how she’s been acting all night, it’s definitely on the cards.

I peer round, having lost her in the past twenty minutes. I see Haz, sitting with that Skylar girl. That dampens my buzz a bit. They’ve barely been parted all night. Well, Skylar hasn’t been parted from Haz. Haz herself seems oblivious. Oblivious or outright ignoring her which I find much more preferable.

Such a shitty thought I berate myself for. If I don’t have the nerve to sleep with her, with either of them, she has every right to be getting it elsewhere. It’s just that ugly part of me rearing up, the one which says no one truly values me, the part that makes me hurt myself just to settle it.

After a bit of a hiatus, it’s got bad again. I’m due on, Mum still isn’t acknowledging my existence, and Nic’s been rubbing me in all the wrong ways. After her dick comment, I felt gross in my dress until I drank enough not to give a shit. Now I’m at the point where I don’t give a shit about anything apart from finding Elly’s sweet lips to kiss.

I try the tiny downstairs toilet everyone’s been using. There’s a girl in there but it’s not Elly. I grab hold of the banister and climb upstairs, my drunkenness pulling me backwards like invisible demon hands. I tread carefully, not overly in the mood to snap my neck tonight.

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