Page 16 of A Match Made in Hell
But then one of those figures lets out a familiar laugh, and I realise with a jolt who they are. WhereIam. There’s a bite of chill in the air, too bitter for places with jungles and parrots. This isn’t some tropical island I’ve always dreamed of visiting; it’s an extremely untropical beach in Margate. Camping with our three flatmates wasn’t the escape I’d hoped for when I begged Noah for a weekend getaway, but I was making the most of it until . . .
Well.
The sunlight is fading, chilling the sand beneath my feet. Grains rise between my toes. The rush of waves crashing against the shore forces me back, spray hitting my face. I usually love that feeling, the cold rush of water like an electric shock tosomeone who’s been sleepwalking, but I don’t need any more shocks. Not today. That laugh sounds again, but it’s not possible, can’t be possible, because that’smylaugh.
As though in slow motion, I walk towards the campfire until the figures come into clearer view. My heart pounds. Itisme. Sat on a log by the campfire with my friends, wearing my beloved missing sandals. My head is on Sasha’s shoulder, a bottle in my hands. We pass it between us while Danny and Michaela have a contest as to who can stick their tongue the furthest down the other’s throat.
I know what night this is.
My stomach twists. I almost wish Sathanas was still holding my hand. I don’t want to be here on my own. I don’t want to be here at all.
I spin round. Sathanas has been following me without a word this whole time, his light footsteps stalking my path. Not caring whether we’re in earshot of the group – or what’ll happen if we are – I demand, ‘Why are we here?’
‘You know why.’ He runs a hand through his dark hair. ‘You need to admit what happened. What your pride hasn’tletyou admit.’ His eyes flick to Sasha, and unease makes goosebumps rise on my skin.
‘There’s nothing to admit,’ I say. ‘This whole night was a mistake. I slipped. It was a freak accident.’
‘Was it?’ he asks quietly. He takes my elbow, drawing me forward, and I regret ever wishing for his presence; I want to be alone now, I don’t want to go there, I don’t want to see –
‘No. No.’ I try to wrench my arm from his grasp, and his fingers dig tighter, turning blinding hot for a moment. My eyes sting. I think I might hate him. ‘Don’t take me. Please, please don’t take me to her.’
‘They can’t see us.’
That’s not the issue. The issue is I’m about to watch myselfdie. I’m about to watch what Idid.
No. No, fuck this. Fuck all of this. No slim sliver of a chance to go home is worth this; I won’t watch it, I won’t.
‘Willow.’ My name on his lips stops my thoughts from scattering any further. ‘You’re panicking.’
I am not panicking. If I was panicking I’d be, I don’t know, running or screaming or something. I haven’t got the energy to do either. My knees are shaking, less stable than melted butter, and my fists are clenched so tight I expect my nails will draw blood. I’m vaguely aware my cheeks are wet.
Noah appears in the distance. Without thinking, I grab Sathanas’s arm for support. He tenses, but doesn’t pull away. Probably because he knows he’s the only thing keeping me upright. Sand streams around Noah’s feet as he marches down the length of the beach, the town twinkling behind him and chalky-white cliffs at his side. His blonde hair is streaked with pink and gold shadows as the sun sets overhead. My chest constricts.
Noah.
Oh, God. He’s got a ring hidden in his underwear drawer – I found it a few days ago and, naturally, panicked – and instead of asking me that question he got to find my dead body instead.
Past Willow straightens when she spots him. Her eyes go wide, pleading. She never knows which Noah she’s going to get: the one who sends her message after message about how beautiful and special she is, how he’d be lost without her – words she’s craved her whole life and only gets from him – or the other Noah, the one who appeared later on, the one who’s cold and detached and threatening to drift away because she can’t stop disappointing him.
Sasha smiles as he approaches. ‘Here he is,’ she says, twirling a lock of golden hair around her finger. They became friends when limited options forced us into living together in our finalyear of university, but sometimes it’s a little jarring seeing the two parts of my life collide, like I can’t work out how to slot between them any more. ‘What took you so long?’
‘Aw, Sash. Did you miss me?’ His grin is short-lived as he takes in the sight of Past Willow. ‘I was waiting for this one.’ He jerks his head at her. ‘You told me you’d come back to the tent.’
‘No, I –’ Past Willow frowns. ‘We said we’d meet here.’
He gestures at my current state. ‘Do you think you’re capable of remembering?’
She shakes her head, but there’s a part of her – ofme– that’s sure it’s not what they agreed. Biting her tongue might spare her this argument though, and she visibly deflates as she cages the part of her that’s dying to fight back.
‘Come on. Let’s go.’ He holds out a hand, but she doesn’t take it. The beast she’s just imprisoned tries to slide a claw through the bars. She’s never been any good at restraining it, no matter how much it ruins everything.
‘Willow.’ He drops to his knees before her, saying, ‘Come on. You can’t keep doing this.’
The same shame swims in my stomach now as it did then, except this time it’s worse because I know how right he is. Every flash of memory is a body blow, but instead of becoming dazed and concussed my mind becomes clearer.
More sure of what’s to come.
Past Willow pushes Noah away, nuzzling closer to Sasha’s side. She’s still under the delusion she has a plan. It’s one she’s been putting off, but shereally means it this time. She just needs one more night to herself.
