Page 25 of Vying Girls (Girls of Hazelhurst #2)
‘Think most of it came off on the walk,’ she says, sitting down beside me.
‘Just these ones in my shoulders. Stinging to hell.’ I reach back to touch them, wincing as they pull.
She moves my hair away, combing it down my back. Grabbing an abandoned bobble from the sink, I tie it up.
‘Doesn’t look so bad,’ she murmurs, moving in with the tweezers. ‘Just a couple bits.’
I hold still as she removes the glass. She smells like outside. I probably do too. And there’s something else. Something chemical, like her body’s trying to purge that poison from her sweat.
‘That was fucking dumb,’ she mutters, self-deprecation colouring her tone.
‘Not your finest moment,’ I agree, ‘but also pretty epic, let’s be honest.’
Nic tuts. ‘Easily impressed.’
‘Are you going to be banned from the Vaults now?’
‘Kidding? Probably be hailed as a god.’
‘Not by those workers, hey?’
She grunts, clearly the least of her worries.
‘Gonna clean these now. It’ll sting.’
I shrug, that burn-y kind of anticipation heating my blood, similar to when I’m on the edge of cutting myself.
I welcome the pain, each hit of it sloughing off just a little more of that pervading guilt.
Like black, deadened skin. It’s potent tonight, in the wake of Nic’s garbled, drug-fuelled confessions.
She upends the antiseptic onto a cotton pad, the astringent reek twitching my nostrils. She doesn’t offer another warning before pressing it to the wound. My stomach tenses with the pain, my breathing stopping for the moment.
After the initial sting, it fades to more of a cosy burn, like that of a tattoo.
‘That’s kind of nice,’ I say dreamily.
‘Jesus,’ Nic scoffs. ‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’
‘Funny question coming from you.’
My heart flips when I spot her reluctant smile. It feels like a win, one I want more of.
‘I’m gonna chuck on a couple of plasters,’ she says, getting up from the bath to fetch them.
‘Then I’ll do you.’
‘I’m good.’
‘There’s blood literally streaking all down your arm, Nic.’
‘I said I’m fucking good!’
‘Fine. Just—the big pieces then. You can deal with the rest.’
I take her lack of further argument as acquiescence.
When she’s done with me, she sinks onto the bath’s edge, face fixed forwards. She’s not pouting but she might as well be. I fight a smile as I scour her skin for glass.
‘Bet you’re like this with needles too.’
‘I don’t like pricks,’ she replies dryly.
I brush her lightly freckled shoulders with my fingertips, feeling a subtle reverence in the act. She’s right here. Under my hands. The girl I begged and raved and sobbed for. It only took a decade, and things might be more fucked up than ever, but she’s fucking here.
She seems completely unaware of my touch, not even a frown puckering her forehead. She looks drained, on a comedown from whatever that blue shit was. I’m way too clueless to even hazard a guess. Could be a Hazelhurst speciality. I doubt whatever they sell down there’s the cheap stuff.
Her injuries aren’t so bad once I’ve mopped them up. Her white top’s a mess though.
‘Hey. I’ll get that soaked if you want. Before it stains.’
Wordlessly, she pulls it over her head and drops it into my lap. I avert my eyes. I expected a refusal, an insistence on doing it herself. At least she’s wearing a bra tonight. It’s not often she does.
I cross to the sink and put in the plug. The rush of water is a shock after the almost suspended silence.
Nic disappears before returning with a dustpan and brush. The clear water turns pink as I saturate her t-shirt.
We work in silence, as in sync as we ever used to be.
I smile as I remember just how untrue that was at the start.
I’d always wanted a sister—what lonely little girl doesn’t?
—but to be faced with reality, that this also included a man who would take my mum away, paired with my covetous nature towards my belongings, I hadn’t taken to the news of a new stepsister well.
For weeks I raged at mum. She was uncaring, on cloud fucking nine with what she’d just landed herself, and that pissed me off all the more. The day we were due to meet, I holed myself up in my garden den, ready to hiss and curse this girl who wanted in on my life.
But how could I turn away a fellow witch?
It only took a split second, admiring that weird, raised mark on her leg, to suddenly see a different future, one where she was my helper, someone to ease the loneliness with.
She made it so easy. She was eager to be my friend.
It’s hard to imagine now. She keeps the whole world at arm’s length.
I glance over to where she’s crouched, noticing how she’s paused with her hand on her heart.
‘Are you okay?’
‘Yeah. Just—palpitations.’
‘Shit.’ Dropping the t-shirt, I turn to face her. ‘From what you’ve taken tonight?’
Nic shakes her head, resuming with her brushing. ‘It’s fine. Happens all the time.’
‘When did it start?’
‘Dunno. When I was a teen.’
When I’m sure she’s not about to keel over, I turn back to the sink. The t-shirt’s practically clean now, even without a whizz around in the washing machine, but I don’t want to part from Nic just yet.
When I was a teen.
A whole chunk of life I never bore witness to. She’ll be twenty soon, same as me. Probably the only two kids who enjoyed sharing a birthday, who didn’t want to spend it with any of our schoolfriends, only each other.
I’m gutted I missed out on all of that. They’re such formative years.
I spent much of them sad—an angsty, frenetic kind that often felt all-consuming.
I can easily imagine the type of sad Nic was.
Quiet, self-destructive. Hurts I wasn’t there to soften it.
I want to rage at her dad for splitting us up—rage at myself for being the one to bring it all to light.
‘Did you stay local?’ I ask cautiously. ‘After everything happened?’
I watch her chest rise and fall in a sigh, knowing she’s right on the cusp of clamming up again.
‘Not too far.’
‘We moved pretty soon after,’ I say quickly, desperate to keep her talking. ‘Mum couldn’t keep the house. No money for it. I tried you on social media, you know. Never could find you. Do you have it?’
‘Not under my name.’
‘How come?’
‘So certain assholes couldn’t find me.’
‘You mean me?’ I ask quietly.
‘No, actually, Tilda. Not you. Damien. You know him? Can’t imagine why I wouldn’t want him tracking me down. Except, fuck, he already knew this whole time.’ Her lips turn up into a smile that just as quickly dies.
‘Should we…maybe think about calling the police?’
She considers that. ‘Wouldn’t be the worst idea. Except, you know, the countless women who do that and still end up murdered because the police don’t do shit for them.’
I take a breath against my rising anxiety. ‘Yeah, I kind of really don’t want to get murdered.’
‘And you won’t.’ She stands up, making me step back with how close she suddenly is. ‘Not if those useless idiots do their jobs.’
‘They’re fine. Don’t be too hard on them.’
She huffs gently, never liking it when I defend them against her. ‘I’ll rethink the police thing in the morning.’
‘Have you ever got them involved with him before?’
She regards the glittering shards in the dustpan. ‘Once.’
‘Did they do anything?’
‘Did they fuck. I was high and hysterical and kind of flipping out. Damien—he can be so fucking cool. Had them all eating out of his palm, completely defused the situation. He’s a proper boy’s boy; they all are.
I was just his fucked-up, coked-up little cousin.
And my aunt denied it all too, so—’ She shrugs and turns to the door.
‘They sent me to a drugs awareness course and that was that.’
I feel tears prick my eyes. The fucking injustice of it. My blood burns. I don’t even know his face, but I’m imagining clawing at it. I’d rip him to shreds for what he’s done to Nic.
‘Maybe we can get justice in a different way.’
Nic looks at me questioningly.
‘Hazelhurst is above the law, right? I’m not stupid. I know that what goes on at the Vaults is probably only the tip of the iceberg. I bet shit like that goes on here.’
‘What shit? Murder?’
‘I’m not saying we… I don’t know what I’m saying. Just something to think about.’ I blow out a forceful breath. ‘I would literally murder him right now if he was here.’
‘Yeah. I used to think that.’ Shaking her head, she saunters off. ‘Never goes down that way.’