After taking care of business, I turn the shower on, setting the temperature to scorching. It’s another walk in, all singing and all dancing affair, like showers back at Highgate. Stepping under the hot spray, I hiss, yet I feel the tension in my shoulders begin to ease. I stand there, head bowed, torn between my feelings for these guys, and what they've done. What they will continue to do.
I drop to the floor of the shower, curling my arms over my knees and sob, tears mixing with the water as it cascades over me.
The song switches toLovelyby Billie Eilish and Khalid, and I'm instantly transported back in time, gasping as I’m sucked into the horror of finding my mum carved up and bleeding all over our kitchen floor.
The scent of copper surrounds me. I'm drowning in it as I gaze at the ruin before me. Her face is untouched, still so beautiful. Her hazel eyes are unseeing, but forever open, staring through me. Her body is unrecognisable in the carnage of blood, and parts of her are exposed that never should have seen the daylight.
Iblink, coming back to the here and now. Some time after her murder, I read a newsletter article that said she was stabbed forty-seven times, the number filling me with horror at what she'd gone through before her last breath left her.
Just as I think the flashback is over, that fucking song keeps playing, like it did that day on the radio, sending me hurtling back into the nightmare.
I'm kneeling beside her, her blood on my clothes, covering my hands, and staining everything with her lifeforce. Lifeforce that had spilled its vitality and essence all over the tiled floor, like a dropped glass of juice.It's true what they say, 'there's no use crying over spilt milk.’ And I don't cry. I can't cry.
Icome back to the present with a gasp this time, my eyes searching for a handhold, something to keep me here, but it's no use.
I'm blinking, my eyes scratchy and sore, to see a hospital room, a strange man and woman standing before me, talking in hushed tones.
I sit up, confused, and catch their attention.
“Lilly,” the woman says gently, taking a step towards me. “My name is Carol, and I'm your social worker.”
Social worker? Why do I need…my thoughts are cut off as memories of blood come flooding back, and I hear a keening noise, only to realise it's me as I curl up into a ball on the bed.
I hear the faint sound of the door opening, as if from far away, before a sharp prick to my neck turns everything black once more.
Iopen my eyes to find myself curled in a similar ball in the corner of the shower, still feeling the phantom sting of that needle.
They kept me sedated for three weeks. Three weeks of bliss, where I didn't have to face what had happened.
When I finally emerged from the haze of drugs, it was to find myself in a strange mansion, with an older lady in a nurse’s uniform, sitting near the huge bed that I was lying in.
Turns out it was my long lost uncle’s house in Wiltshire, and she was Teresa, the nurse he had hired in order to bring me ‘home.’ Ironic really, a nurse called Teresa.
I'd never met Adrian before. Mum had a falling out with her parents, which she'd briefly mentioned one night years before. She hadn’t mentioned a brother, but then again, perhaps they’d never been close and she was always so cagey about her past. It doesn’t surprise me that some things were missed.
He was an extremely handsome man, with the darkest eyes that I'd ever seen. There was something...odd about him. He was too charming, too caring. Like he was trying too hard. But then, I suppose having finally found his sister, only to find her brutally...murdered, took its toll on him too.
It took a further three months before the flashbacks from that day lessened enough that I could function without ending up curled in a ball and rocking. The nightmares never stopped though.
Then one day, Adrian suggested that I might like to get away from it all. To have a fresh start in a new place. He told me that he went to school in Colorado, America. Hence the accent as he spent most of his childhood and early adulthood out there getting the best education money could buy. He told me all about Highgate Preparatory Academy, and how great it was. How much fun he had here, and what good lifelong friends he made.
I was reluctant at first, not wanting to leave England, the only country I'd ever known. But then I realised that this was no longer my home. My mum was...gone, and her best friend, practically sister, Lexi hadn't been in touch once. Neither had Ryan, mum's long-term boyfriend, although she’d never committed fully to him, lord knows why.
I had no ties keeping me in England, nothing to stay for. So I came here, hoping to escape the tragedy of my past.
After I've picked myself up off the floor, then washed and rinsed, I wrap a towel around myself, wiping the steam off of the mirror to look at my reflection. I look like death warmed up.
I stare into my churning eyes, willing the answer to be in them. It's not, and I'm left feeling just as lost, just as heartbroken as before.
Sighing, I turn and open the door. Looking up, I see Kai sitting stiffly on my bed.
My heart stutters in my chest as my gaze devours him. I can see the sadness draped over him like a shroud, and tears spring to my eyes when I know that it's because of me.
“You don't need to say anything, Lilly,” Kai says, his voice melancholy, yet there's a thread of hopefulness in it too. “Just, please, don't give up on us. Give us a chance.”
His honey eyes beg mine, yet I have no idea what to say, so I just nod.
His features flood with relief, and he practically sags on my bed. He gets up, walking over to me, and reaches out, brushing my hair away from my face with a soft touch of his long fingers that sends shivers skating across my skin.