Page 27 of Vying Girls (Girls of Hazelhurst #2)

‘Did you do this?’ I toss the note at her, watching it flutter to the floor. ‘To wind me up?’

She picks it up, the hand in her hair stilling as the words sink in.

‘Where did you find this?’

‘On my bed!’

Nic looks at me, eyes pinning me where I stand.

‘It was with my uni stuff. I don’t know where it came from. Is it from him?’

‘I’d say that’s pretty clear.’ She glares, clearly offended I accused her first.

‘So, what, he’s been here then? I thought he was kicked off the island?’

‘How sure can you be that it was given to you outside of the lodge?’

I shake my head. ‘I can’t.’

Nic glances around. My heartrate quickens as I watch her open her wardrobe and check under the bed.

‘You think he’s here?’

‘I don’t fucking know, Tilda.’ She tosses up an arm. ‘Might as well check. We’re here all bloody weekend.’ She sighs, pointing the hand holding the note at me. ‘Stay here. I’m going to lock the door.’

‘What?’

‘Just stay!’

I slump back on the bed, even more freaked out when I hear her lock the room from the outside. The curtains are open here too. I cross to the window and grasp them, unable to help a quick peek out. Just as I do, the forest floodlights go out, as does Nic’s lamp.

Heart thumping, I close the curtains. Thank God I’m permanently attached to my phone. I turn on the torch, hearing Haz shout a protest from below. Either because of the power cut or the crazy psycho possibly hiding in the lodge.

Insane to think the only psycho in my life was once Nic, and now she’s running around making sure I’m safe.

I arc my phone around warily. The light snags on something on the back of Nic’s door.

It’s a mask.

My breath catches. Rising from the bed, I take a closer look, the wood shiny like it’s wet. It’s not the exact mask. Same design, but it’s smaller. Or perhaps it just seems that way now I’m older.

I touch the wood, the grain cold on my fingers. I hadn’t been tall enough to reach it back then, it had been nailed so high on the conservatory wall.

I step backwards until my legs hit the bed. The harsh light of my phone torch gives the mask a fluttering quality, like it’s shifting on the door. I slide down to the edge of the bed, unable to drag my eyes away.

There’s no way that’s a coincidence, no bloody way.

Nic.

My heart squeezes, a hand finding its way there. It’s so jarring to see it here, this tiny shred of evidence that that time meant as much to her as it did to me. It severs the paranoia, throwing me back to a time long past.

I’m still staring when the door unlocks. Nic pushes it open with her shoulder, her hands full with two drinks.

She hands one to me, the sweet, spiced scent of rum invading my nostrils. ‘Well, he’s not here. Must have slipped it in whilst you were at uni.’

‘Great. That makes me feel so much better.’

‘Probably wasn’t even him. One of his minions at The Order would have been all too happy to help.’

I frown. ‘The what?’

She waves a dismissive hand. ‘Society stuff.’

‘The Order?’ I scoff lightly. ‘Lame.’

‘Yeah. Pretty much.’ She crosses to the window and peels back the curtain. ‘Fucking power. We should be careful this weekend. It’s a good time if he was going to do anything.’

‘Oh my god, I hate this.’

‘Don’t fret. Damien likes playing the long game. He’s patient,’ she says derisively. ‘Saying that, you probably shouldn’t sleep alone tonight.’

‘Oh yeah. You offering?’

When she turns to me with a furrowed brow, I flush. I hadn’t meant that to sound so flirtatious, not sure why I said it at all really. Too much hang time with Haz, I think.

I take a big gulp of my drink, Coke bubbles burning my nose. ‘No worry of that, anyway. Haz and Elly want a sleepover in the lounge.’

‘So I saw.’

‘That includes you, by the way. Not just me.’

‘We’ll see,’ is all she says.

I’m not facing her way, but I know the exact moment she notices what I’m looking at. It’s like the room holds its breath. I hear her shuffle over and lower herself beside me.

‘Wild,’ I say.

‘Yeah.’

I twist the glass in my hands. ‘What does it mean?’

‘That I hate myself enough to remember.’

She might as well have punched me. The mask blurs as tears flood my eyes. ‘It was a good time,’ I husk.

‘Yeah, it was. And then it wasn’t.’

The accusation is so clear in her voice. I shake my head. ‘What did I do to you?’

‘You know what you did.’

‘I was ten,’ I whisper.

‘Yeah. And Damien wasn’t much older than that.’

‘Are you fucking serious?’ I turn my head to her. ‘You’re comparing me to your rapist?’

‘Same damage. Different fonts.’

Standing up, I move away from her. ‘Fuck you, Nic. That’s—fuck you.’

I take a few breaths, sipping on my drink until it unwinds me. ‘I can’t remember that day. It’s like a void. Like my mind just shuts it down.’

‘Lucky for you.’

‘I don’t want to remember. I remember after though.’ I look over. She’s still staring at the mask. ‘You know, after all the fucked-up shit that happened, it was being away from you that hurt the most.’

Nic gives a tiny, wordless nod. Like she felt the same.

‘If I…if I knew it would separate us, I probably never would have said anything to Mum.’

‘So you admit you lied.’

‘No! I didn’t fucking lie, Nic. Are you for real? There were photos. A whole shit-tonne of them that I found. And all the times he…’

‘That’s enough.’

‘No. Bloody is not. Not until you believe me.’

‘I don’t want to hear it.’

‘Well, I didn’t want to experience it!’ I choke out a laugh. ‘I’m just lucky I found all that shit. Who knows how far he would have gone with me. My God, as if I’m not messed up enough.’

Nic groans, rocking on the edge of the bed. ‘He didn’t do shit!’

‘You can say that all you want, but I’m going to keep telling you until you believe me. Is this why you took so long to tell me? Because you knew you couldn’t keep up with your little fictional story? Bet it is. Because deep down, you know the truth.’

‘I’ll tell you what the truth is, Tilda.

It’s that that man was the only family I had.

Real family. It was just him and me and then you told your little lie, and he was so scared, Tilda, that he fucking hanged himself.

Hanged himself for me to find, right above his desk, tallest room in the house.

How do you think that was for me? Jesus, I tried so hard to lift him.

He was long dead, but I knew he’d be okay if I could just get that fucking rope off his neck.

And I almost managed, but then he fell, so fucking heavy, and my arm broke, and I couldn’t fucking breathe.

Didn’t want to breathe. Wanted to go with him. But the fucking pain kept me anchored.’

She says all of this without taking her eyes off the mask.

And I can’t take my eyes off her. The tightness in her jaw, her chest rising and falling quickly, swamped in that t-shirt. Even through my anger, I hurt for the child she was then. ‘He hanged himself because he knew what happens to paedos in prison.’

She looks at me now, a stark warning in her eyes.

‘Did he ever do anything to you?’

‘Shut up.’

‘You’ve got a real fucked up family, Nic.’ I watch as she finally moves, crossing to her bookshelf. ‘You belong with them.’ She doesn’t respond, but I know she’s angry, rifling through the books for God knows what. ‘Wish I’d never fucking met you.’

‘Then let’s make that happen.’

She advances towards me with a book in her palm. She pushes me back on the bed, taking me by surprise. Straddling me so I can’t escape, she flicks open the book.

The Witch’s Grimoire winks in silver foiled lettering. Not one we pored over as kids, but it’s still surprising to see her with a spellbook. Just how many mementos of us does she have? More than me. I just have memories left. And now this—a living, breathing, hating Nic.

In the inadequate light of my phone, she’s more shadow than not as she flits her eyes over the page.

‘No string,’ she mutters. I gasp as she leans over to her bedside drawer, her knees digging into me painfully. She pulls out a tatty bit of gold curling ribbon and a pair of scissors.

‘What are you doing?’ I try sitting up but she just squeezes harder with her legs.

‘Cutting you out,’ she replies, eyes as cold as I’ve ever seen them. ‘Undoing our last spell.’

‘No.’ Panic flares as I fight against her. ‘Don’t do that.’

She pushes down on my shoulders, nails biting into them. ‘I will fucking tie you up.’

I reach out and shove the book, trying to tip it over the edge of the bed. She slams a hand on it, finds the page, and begins to read.

I shake my head. It’s a cord cutting spell, a reversal, an undoing of the love spell we last performed. The one that kept me haunted by her ghost. The one that brought me back to her.

It’s all nonsense, I know, but I can’t bear for her to do this. Like the moment it’s over, my heart will stop. Or hers. She’ll fade into nothing, out of my reach again. Only forever this time, with no magic to return her. A fate as permanent as death—worse knowing it’s a suicide.

‘Nic, please stop.’

She moves the book out of my reach, her other hand resting the tip of the scissors against my neck. She doesn’t take her eyes off the page, murmuring the words like a chant.

Each one falls on me like a fist, like the hail from Anarchy, relentless and violent. Memories of us surface and fade in my mind, like water down a plughole. I can’t bear it. I put my hands over my face and sob, the wet gasps warming my palms.

Nic’s words falter. ‘Why are you crying?’ She sounds annoyed, angry, but there’s a hint of regret there too.

‘Because you’re fucking upsetting me! Shit.

’ I wipe my eyes. ‘Nic, how can you do that? Having you with me was the only good time in my whole fucking life, and I know you feel the same. I know it all went to shit but don’t pervert the rest of it.

Don’t ruin it. I want to remember the good forever. I need to.’