Chapter Thirty

//be prepared for some emotion, and let this be your trigger warning for sexual assault. if reading the story behind flora's fear is uncomfortable or triggering for any of you, skip past the large chunk of text in italics toward the end of the chapter and I'm sure you'll manage to pick up what's going on throughout the rest of the story/chapter comments 😩//

I hadn't been punished before. It's not that my mother was particularly lax, more so that I never used to do anything. My bed and I, the television and I, the laptop and I, Skylar, the reclining chairs and I... I hadn't exactly been very wild or adventurous in my day to day doings. It seemed that my mother now looked at me in an entirely new light.

Upon our arrival home, she'd given me barely a moment to sit down before she launched into a hysterical rant. Granted, Mrs Montgomery was well within reason to do so, but I was finding it extremely difficult not to bite back. It still hadn't been safe to tell her anything, not until I had a plan to get rid of Ian without the possibility of him hurting her. It was somewhere between blaming Parker for every bad thing that had ever occurred in my life and the suggestion of a restraining order that something within me snapped. Though I hadn't let anything slip about Ian's true identity, I had rather vocally voiced my thoughts about him. That he was Satan's spawn, he was a vile, disgusting man that shouldn't be under our roof, that she barely knew him and it was far too soon for him to be there. Of course, after having heard that she would listen to no claims of Parker's innocence and shut the situation down completely.

I'd spoken to the police in my living room, my mother refusing to let them take me to the station. Whether that was because the memory of my father would have been too strong what with him having worked there or whether it be because I was now under an extreme level of house arrest, I wasn't sure. Nor was I sure what to say to the police. My mother had taken away my phone in case I tried to reach out to Parker and so I had no idea whether I was supposed to describe Jason or not. There was a chance that if I told them of my attackers identity that they'd take Jason into custody and he'd spill his guts about Parker and the guys' dealings with Ian. If one went down, they all did. It wasn't people involved in this case, but domino pieces. So I claimed never to have seen who stabbed me. A shadowed figure, I said, impossible to make out. Parker had saved me. Their faces betrayed their acceptance of my statement, utterly unbelieving. At this point, I didn't care. What I'd said couldn't possibly get Parker in trouble for I'd painted him out to be the hero that he was. My mother, who had been listening behind the door during, had not looked happy.

Soon after the police left did the terms of my house arrest get made abundantly clear:

"There will be no free time until I trust you again, Flora. I'm sorry but it's what has to be done both for your safety and my sanity. You leave for school, Ian will drive you. He's kindly cut back on his sessions with clients until this whole thing blows over. When at school you do not talk, borrow pencils from, or even look at Parker Heywood or any one of his delinquent cronies. I've spoken to the headmaster and he has agreed that this be for the best. Your teachers have been made aware. No after school lingering or clubs or anything of the sort. Ian will pick you up the moment that bell rings and bring you straight back home." She paused. "Don't give me that look, young lady. You think rolling out your bottom lip and making your eyes shine like that will make this all go away? It won't. This is for the best and you'll understand that when you're older. He's been an awful influence. Now Skylar can visit, of course. She's a lovely, trustworthy girl, but she may only come here. You cannot go to her house in case you're sneaking off to Parker's house. No matter how lovely she is, she's your friend not mine. I can't chance it. Have I made myself clear?"

She'd made herself as clear as crystal. Ultimately, I'd gone from being a free undercover agent to a prisoner in my own home. My mother couldn't possibly have known that this be the worst of all punishments. A guaranteed forty minutes worth of alone time in Ian's car each day followed by dinner eaten together "as a family" because apparently I "need to get used to Ian" as he's "very important" to her.

Six weeks had gone by painstakingly slow and I was craving Parker's company like an addict might his drugs. Glances in corridors weren't enough to keep me sustained, the feather-like brush of his fingers along my forearm as he passed my desk to reach his own in the farthest away corner were a cruel reminder of what could have been. Technically I was eighteen. An adult. I could make my own decisions. However when it came to speaking to my therapist, I was an "impressionable teen with a fragile state of psychological health" and of course that overruled everything. I was a helpless butterfly trapped on a board and Ian had the pins exactly where he wanted them - especially the one slap bang in the centre of her heart.

It was Saturday today; the weekends were always the worst. On the first weekend of Let's-Make-Flora-Miserable, my mother had organised that we all go grocery shopping together. This had possibly been the worst trip of my entire life. First of all, she'd chosen to go to my old work place to purchase the vegetables where coincidentally I hadn't been since the fiasco with Parker and the firing. When my old work colleague served us she proceeded to ask how my hot boyfriend was and whether we were still together. This had my mother screaming incoherently, slapping money down on the counter without receiving change and dragging me out of the store. Cue running straight into Parker and his friends outside.

"Flora," Parker choked. His eyes were rimmed with smudges of charcoal and he hadn't styled his hair to swoop up in that infamous wave at the front of his head. It looked ruffled like he'd just woken up. My fingers itched to brush through it.

"Parker," My voice was a rasp. I only broke eye contact with him when Matthew, Axel, Topher and Hayden suddenly appeared. They each looked extremely uncomfortable due to something over my shoulder. I turned to find my glaring mother and a very blank Ian.

"Let's get back to the car," Ian said, and he put his hand on my shoulder that felt like it weighed ten tonnes. With the force it had come down on, I wouldn't have been surprised if my feet had been driven into the concrete a little. As it was, I only stumbled slightly and bit through my lip to stop me from crying out and batting him away. I knew it would only last a few seconds, he was just making a point for Parker to see it. If I didn't make a fuss it'd be over soon. A metallic taste filled my mouth and my eyes started to sting.

My mum, noticing my severe discomfort, eyed his hand warily in complete distraction from the boys in front of us. "Ian?"

"Exposure therapy, love. Remember?"

Parker's jaw ticked and Axel's arm shot out to prevent him from lunging. Ian, smiling now, then retracted his hand. He'd got what he wanted. We walked to Ian's car in silence, the shouts from the boys behind us distant and unintelligible. I couldn't even spare a glance behind me as we drove off for it would have been too painful.

After that my mother didn't protest to solitary weekends. She made sure she didn't need to catch up with work and stayed downstairs watching television all day. Either I could join her, or I could spend my time in my room. I tended to opt for the latter and Skylar would sometimes swing by to keep me sane. Today, however, was one of the few days she couldn't manage. Unfortunately it just so happened to be the day I needed her most.

"I'm off to work today," Said my mother. Upon hearing the words I almost inhaled the cereal spoon. Was she finally leaving me alone? Trusting me? Of course I'd find my phone immediately. Call Parker. If I couldn't I'd sprint to his house. A flat out sprint all the way there couldn't take that long, could it? As if hearing my every thought, her face darkened. "But don't think you'll be here unsupervised. Ian's taken today off. I'll see you at dinner time."

"Ian?" I echoed, uncomprehending. "Ian's going to be here? No, mum I-"

She sighed. A deep, terribly exhausted sigh. It was enough to make me feel fleetingly guilty. If only she could understand. "That is what I said, yes. I'll see you for dinner."

Once the sound of the door closing behind her filtered down the hallway and into the kitchen, I was up and out of my seat and leaving my bowl behind on the table.

"Where are you going, Flora?"

I froze halfway up the stairs. "To my room where you are not allowed to go. I'm locking the door behind me and that's that."

"I could get your mum to take that off, you know." He said thoughtfully, and I whirled around to stare at him. Surely he wouldn't... But why wouldn't he when he'd already done so much? His name was a synonym for destruction. "The lock, I mean. You're a bit of a danger to yourself, wouldn't you say? All of these supposed feelings you possess for that immature boy. You need a mature male figure to reinforce what's right. What if something was to happen in that room of yours? What if you needed checked on?"

"What, so you could come in with the camera I know you stole from Skylar to take more photographs of me during the night? You sick bastard." I clenched my shaking fists together. They were shaking out of fear, but I hoped against all hope he thought it was from anger.

"That'd be a bit pointless," He shrugged. "There'd be nowhere to put the pretty portrait. The police have my darkroom under investigation. You didn't need to provide them with a name, Parker did that for you. Smart boy. He knew I'd have something to hold over Jason in order to blackmail him not to talk. If he went down, he'd bring me down with him. I suppose all you care about is whether Parker gets put behind bars. Once upon a time I might have cared about that too, but not whilst he pines after you. Not whilst you pine after him." He moved forward and I hurriedly mounted another step closer to my room. "I have to ask, why do you like him?"

"Lets see," I wiped my sweaty palms against my jean clad thighs. "He isn't a creep. He isn't more than twice my age. He doesn't take photographs of me without my knowing. He's smart and caring and funny and everything you're not. The list could go on."

"Smart," He mused. "I'd say I'm intellectually superior to an eighteen year old boy. In fact, I'm far superior to mostly everybody intellectually. There's not a single person in this town who I haven't successfully fooled. If anybody was to be my unwravelling, it would have been you and your mother. Who'd have thought that I'd manage to pull the wool over both of your eyes with such extreme ease." He laughed, and it was the most unsettling of sounds. It held great amusement, even pride. It'd be the soundtrack to my future nightmares. "Did you know my real name isn't even Ian Greene?"

"What?"

"Ian Greene was a therapist I happened to know around ten years back. He was one of my biggest customers, actually. If it hadn't been for his hollowing cheeks from all the drugs he'd been buying, he bore an uncanny resemblance to myself. Just in the face. Not so much the shade of his hair or the colouring of his eyes..."

"I found dark contact lenses in the bathroom bin. I already knew that wasn't your real eye colour." I blurted, nerves getting the better of my brain which was screaming at me to keep my mouth shut and my legs moving until I was safely locked behind my bedroom door.

His smile glittered. To some perhaps it might have seemed charming, but I saw it for what it really was. The dangerous glint of light against an unsheathed blade. "You're like your father. He was a smart man."

"What do you know of my dad?" I mounted another step, still facing him. He stayed standing on the lowest step but I didn't doubt his long legs could reach me in two simple strides.

"I know everything of your dad, Flora. More than even you."

"Y-you've been here like five minutes. My dad left us the night of my tenth birthday! He's probably in another country now with some other family thankful that he escaped his freak of a daughter or-"

"Or he's dead." He said it with such a causal tone that I almost thought I'd misheard him. He brought up one of his shoulders into a half hearted shrug as if he'd suggested a restaurant to eat at rather than that of my father no longer being able to breathe.

"Excuse me?" My blood ran cold. It already felt like I was getting frost bite in my fingers as I asked the dreaded question. "Why would you say that?"

"You clearly want to be well informed and I'm the only one who can do it. Come," He curled his fingers inward, beckoning me closer. I didn't dare move. He gave another shrug. "Or here is fine, too. You might want to sit on that step then in case you fall down the stairs. Emotional news sometimes causes people to faint. I should know, I am a therapist, after all." He smiled as if at a secret joke upon saying the last sentence. If this story wasn't a complete fabrication from his psychotic mind, he wasn't a therapist at all.

"Spit it out."

"My first kill was Ian," He said offhandedly. "Your work life is separate from your home life. There's a definite division. Dealing drugs is a dangerous business, a whole other world, and one that doesn't allow your home life to stay completely separated. If you have angry buyers they'll come to your door. If you refuse to sell them your stash they'll stalk you. Terrible nuisance. Figured that out the hard way. So I bought another house. One that I could live my day to day life in. I hired more trusted employees to do my dealings for me and created a new persona. My next door neighbour was a lovely fellow named Ian who lived alone. He was a bit dim but knew how to comfort people well enough. Lived vicariously through his work, that man - and, of course, my produce. He didn't have any friends. None save myself and your father, that is."

The floor seemed to be tilting. I clawed through the air, hand hitting the wall on one side and clasping the banister on the other. Before I knew it I was lowering myself onto the step. Ian didn't have to say I told you so for me to know it was what he was thinking. His face said enough.

"Having a second home, one that I could live in comfortably knowing I wouldn't get a knock on my front door at three in the morning demanding I supply whoever it was with more drugs even if they didn't have the sufficient amount of money, was refreshing. It didn't, however, keep everybody at bay. Some still followed me from my old house where I did some of my business - the house you were in, Flora - to my new one. They still knew what I looked like. Truly problematic, it was, until good old Ian pointed out how similar we were to one another. It was undeniable once it had been said. If I were to dye my hair that eye-sore orange, darken my eyes and gain some weight around my middle, we'd have looked like twins. All I had to do was wash the dye out and take out the contact lenses and I was business me. Put the disguise back on and I could live my life in peace. It was a sign. So of course that had to be the end of Ian and I's friendship. It's amazing how something as harmless as a household appliance, a lamp no less, can turn into a dangerous weapon if wielded correctly. A tap to the head and he was gone."

"You- you murdered somebody? In cold blood? Y-you just- killed him? I-" I was in the house with a murderer. I was in the house with a stalker and a murderer. I couldn't stop the vomit that had been rising in my throat from suddenly projecting outward. It burst through my fingers that I'd hurriedly splayed to stop the oncoming stream and splattered the carpeted staircase.

"Perhaps," Ian began after a short while, apparently choosing his words very carefully. "You ought to go clean up."

I nodded my head furiously and dashed upstairs. The cool water from the bathroom sink felt heavenly against my burning skin. It also did wonders with rinsing the horrendous taste from my mouth. I'd left the door open, not paying a second thought to the prospect that Ian might consider trailing after me. For one, he'd have had to play hopscotch around the remnants of my sick, and two, he had looked incredibly disgusted - too much SO to follow. The mirrored cabinet above the sink, however, showed me his reflection clearly as he leant against the wall.

"I buried Ian in the back garden of my first house," He continued as if there hadn't been a break. The tap was still running, a soft murmur in comparison to his hard, cold voice. May as well keep all the crimes in one location. I sold my new house and moved into Ian's next door. I dyed my hair ginger, bought myself some coloured contact lenses. None of his colleagues noticed the change. Save one who noted that I was friendlier, easier to get along with than what he used to think of me. Of Ian." Ian - if I could even call him that anymore - snorted. "Even his patients thought of me as more helpful. The man studied to be what he was and in I swooped, already better than him on day one without even so much as a minute of training."

"I don't want to hear anymore." I gasped out between splashes of cool water against my face. I might not have been able to feel my fingers from having them in the water for so long, but my face was drying off almost immediately after it was covered. My skin hadn't felt this dry and hot since the infamous fever of 2012 where I was stuck in bed for a solid week. My mother had fretted about my bed with cold compresses and sick bowls and home made chicken soup.

"But don't you?" He said. "Introducing your father, Mr Ethan Montgomery. Smart man. Far smarter than I gave him credit for. See, it turns out that he and Ian had studied at the same university and were much closer than I'd presumed. It was difficult pretending I knew what the guy was talking about, but considering the situation I think I did pretty well. I looked through all of Ian's files, his emails, his phone contacts, and found his old school year book. I thought I had Ethan fooled. He invited me around often enough to give me that impression. And yet he knew I wasn't Ian. All of the visits had been tests. Ethan had been trying to decipher my true identity based on what facts I would let slip and what questions I couldn't answer. Our hang outs started becoming more and more like interrogations. The fact he was a police officer didn't exactly improve the matter. I think he knew when I started getting suspicious. One night, the night before your tenth birthday, he invited me round for drinks. Both you and your mother had gone to bed. You were such a cute little thing... Guess you always have been."

"I do not want. To hear. Anymore." I said through gritted teeth. There was bile in my throat again and I knew it wouldn't be long before I began to retch.

He carried on relentlessly. "We had a drink. I had considerably more than him, but he was still rather tipsy. We'd spent most of that night having a laugh and remembering the good old days which I hadn't been in. Before I knew it we had been up all night. The sun was glaring in through the window. I reckoned I might have been paranoid. Ethan had seemed harmless all night, even good company. He said I could stay for his daughter's party if I liked. It would just be close family and friends, she'd already had the fun one with the kids her own age the previous weekend. Of course he suggested I have a morning shower to sober myself up. It seemed like a good idea to attend, something his friend Ian would have enjoyed going to and been expected to accept the invite, so I took my bag into the bathroom with me and made sure he didn't notice my taking it. I always carry an extra pair of contact lenses, you see. Precautionary. I took out my contacts and hopped in the shower thinking all was well. When I got out and looked in the mirror, of course, I remembered the hair dye. You see, I used spray in back then. It was fast and efficient. Easy to come out so I could spend a day at home and a night at business. After that slip up I started to permanently dye it and simply hired more trustworthy people to distribute the product so I had to see customers less. Anyway, my hair had slipped my mind, and staring at myself and my dark brown hair in the mirror, I knew things had gone down hill. I knew that he'd found me out. That he'd taken advantage of the fact I wasn't completely sober and purposefully suggested my showering. There was nothing to do but to own it. And own it I did. I strolled on out of there with my contact lenses still inside my bag and only left when I heard the first of the guests arriving. It had to have been hours, but I'd been planning so it didn't feel all that long. Ethan had banged on the door a few times claiming he knew who I was but it became obvious he was willing to wait me out. He'd thought I'd leave sooner, and I might have if there had been a window in the bathroom, but I had a better idea. An idea that'd make him regret ever having crossed me.

Ethan wouldn't have been willing to bring his line of duty in to play to ruin your party. You looked so happy in your billowing little dress that was the colour of the sun, your eyes shining like it. Ethan probably thought I was going to leave, and I remember taking great joy in the way his eyes almost bulged out their sockets as I introduced myself to everyone as Alexander, Ian's brother. I apologised that Ian himself couldn't make it as a patient had needed his seeing to, but since Ethan had invited the pair of them I was happy to come alone if it meant seeing the birthday girl..."

The moment he'd said the name, my vision had gone out of focus. His words began drifting off into nothingness. He was still talking but I was desperately gasping for air, clutching the porcelain bowl of the toilet. The tiles beneath my legs felt freezing against the blistering heat of my skin and I tipped over the toilet brush, knocked the first aid kit from the top of the small chest of drawers, somehow wound up flinging the toilet roll from its holder. The room had fast become a shrinking box. He didn't need to continue for I knew the rest of the story perfectly well. The story that had haunted me for years, caused annual nightmares on the dreaded night it occurred, taken away my ability to function like a typical teenager. Like a typical anybody.

Ian was squatting in front of me, running his hands in a soothing gesture up the sides of my arms like one might if they're trying to heat you up. But I was already burning. I was fire. I was molten lava and the eyes I raised my own to meet, the eyes that had been that dark, fathomless black, were now as blue as lapis lazuli. Suddenly I was burning for a whole other reason, my skin trying to peel itself free of my body. If I hadn't met Doctor Greene or Ian or Alexander or whoever the hell he truly was, I'd have never imagined cold blue eyes were capable of scorching something. But they were. They were somehow endless fiery oceans that were drowning me in flames and I couldn't breathe.

"Thank you so much for the dress, mum!" I hugged her before twirling in front of her like I'd seen Belle do in Beauty and the Beast. "You have to call me princess Flora from now on."

She laughed at me. "You'll always be my little princess, sweetheart, no matter what you wear."

"Good," I nodded, but got distracted when I found somebody interesting-looking over her shoulder. She turned to follow my stare. "Who's that? Do I know him?"

"That's Alexander, Ian's brother." She looked upset for a brief moment. "Neither your father nor Ian ever mentioned a brother to me. Dad doesn't seem to like him much. He's being very rude. Let's make him feel welcome, shall we? It's always nice to be polite." And then she was smiling again and leading me toward him. I skipped next to her. I loved making new friends.

"Why, hello there. Don't you look like a princess." He smiled down at me. His eyes were bright blue and very pretty, just like Prince Eric's from the Little Mermaid. And he'd called me a princess without my having to ask him. I already liked him a lot.

"Thank you!" I beamed.

"Oh!" Mum suddenly exclaimed, and she had a hand over her mouth and was looking at dad meaningfully who'd seemingly appeared out of nowhere. She was whispering something about forgetting to light candles and then she was pushing him away and into the kitchen. He kept trying to stop and turn around. He didn't look happy at all. Before dad went into the kitchen he looked angry and sad at Alexander and then he was gone.

"Why have you got mud down the front of your beautiful dress?" Asked Alexander as he tried to wipe it off down my front. It smudged into the yellow fabric, big and brown and messy. I frowned at him disapprovingly.

"You've made it worse. I was out playing in the garden. Mum said she'd clean it later."

"But princesses never wear dirty dresses! Tell you what, since I've been super silly and forgot to bring your birthday present with me, how about I make up for it. I'll wash your dress right now. It'll be done in five minutes."

I thought about it for a moment. "I guess Belle wouldn't wear a dirty dress to eat her cake..."

"Of course not. Follow me. Come on, trust me." And so I did. I trusted him to clean my dress and I followed him upstairs and into the bathroom. He locked the door behind us, turned the shower on. Steam from the hot water made the room all cloudy and I couldn't see anything but his Prince Eric eyes.

"Mum doesn't normally clean things in the shower," I told him as I tried to reach the buttons on the back and failed to do so. "She cleans things in the washing machine. Also I don't have a change of clothes. You can't look at me because changing clothes is private. Mum says it's rude to look-"

His eyes were really big and blue and his hands were big too. They were big and too touchy and they were sliding up my dress. I sort of wished I'd worn trousers now but didn't really know why. The water from the shower felt wet and suffocating and it wasn't cleaning my dress as well as a washing machine would, just sticking my hair to my face and sticking him closer to me.

"I don't need help taking off my dress-" But he wasn't helping me take off my dress, he just had his hands up it and was dragging me closer and I didn't like it.

Princesses just had one kiss and then they got married. He was taking too many. I wanted to shout for my parents but I couldn't even see the door from all the cloudy steam. How would they hear me?

"You're a big girl, now." He said, and I shut my eyes, trying to imagine some place better as his grip tightened. "Double digits. You deserve a big present."

A while later I had seen my father standing in the hallway as if frozen to the spot. He'd kicked open the door and broken its lock. The sounds of the party could still be heard downstairs. Laughing and chattering and song. He could have stood there for minutes staring at us or barely even a second. Time in that bathroom had slowed to a standstill. He had glanced between us, bolted, and had never come back. He'd seen what had happened and had been undoubtedly disgusted. Thought of his innocent daughter as a freak of nature. He couldn't even face us again, couldn't even admit to his own wife what he saw his ten year old daughter doing. He sent her an incredibly vague email telling her he had to leave and that was that. It had been so horrific, what he'd witnessed his daughter do, that he had felt compelled to leave. That he couldn't even tell his own wife the truth behind his departure. Of course I didn't confess a thing once I knew he'd left us. I didn't confess a thing to anybody. The horrific secret was my own guilty burden. I was the reason my father had left and nobody was to touch me ever again. Touching leads to bad things. Unwanted things. Secrets.

"Are you remembering that night, too?" He grinned, and if I hadn't felt so nauseous I might have hurled myself at him regardless of my phobia. I wanted my hands wrapped around his neck and I wanted him dead dead dead.

"My dad left because of you. Because of what you did to me."

"Actually he left because of what I did to him. You see, daddy dearest seemed to have a little panic after seeing our... moment and left the house in quite the rush. You'd have thought he'd throw me off of you but I guess we all act differently when faced with panic. Anyhow, Ethan ran straight for the police station to undoubtedly confess all he'd come to know. He was good at solving and reporting crime, but perhaps not dealing with it first hand and so personally. Shame he kept his suspicions to himself. The man may have been smart, but when it came to panic it made him thick. He hadn't taken his car. After we'd finished up, I hopped into my own car and drove around trying to find him. It didn't take long and I simply," He shrugged. "Bumped into him with the bonnet. He's out back with Ian resting peacefully. Don't worry, I didn't leave him as roadkill. I sent your mum that email so she wouldn't be too worried and I sent the police force his resignation."

My mouth was filled with blood and tears. I'd been crying and biting my lip and shaking and everything was turning hazy at the edges. I could almost see the steam materialising in front of me. My body temperature was as hot as it had been in that scalding water with those bright blue eyes staring at me with that scary intensity.

"That night had been to break your father - and I did. It hadn't been to break you. Although when you walked into my therapist's office a few years later it was too good to turn down. You didn't seem to remember me even though you had apparently known the old Ian back in the day, and luckily you didn't recognise me as the imaginary brother Alexander, the reason as to why you were now in my care. I watched you get older, maturer, prettier. You developed an attitude. I must confess I sort of grew attached. Then when I learnt of Parker's involvement I became jealous. As one of my workers he was to have no distractions. At first it was a mere annoyance, but then as I watched it grow into something more I knew I had to intervene."

"Get out!" My voice was nothing short of a wail. I was clutching the sides of my head so tightly it felt as if my skull were shrinking from the pressure. My brain was too big for my skull, too big for this room. There was one too many bodies in the bathroom, too much information in my head. "Get out, get out, GET OUT!"

I was kicking him. Slapping him. Shoving his body out of the doorway and slamming the door shut behind him. I had always been able to touch like this. I could touch through defence. If I'd kicked up a little bit of more fuss like this then perhaps that dreaded night wouldn't have ended the way it did. Perhaps I'd have made it out of the bathroom complete rather than ruined.

What I needed was fresh air or a bed; the bathroom provided neither and only supplied me with bad memories. Before I knew what I was doing, I was searching the cabinet filled with medication. Pain relief, sleeping tablets, vitamins, something thats name I couldn't pronounce with my own name pasted to the front. It was covered in a thin layer of dust. My mum had brought the pills home in case I changed my mind. The very same that had been prescribed to me by the freak himself - the therapist who had put me in the therapy chair. How twisted.

I didn't care. Not anymore. There were three in my hand now. Small, white and harmless looking. Hopefully he knew what he was doing when he prescribed me with them because all I wanted now was to feel normal. Like a normal person who could touch things without having panic attacks every two seconds. The bottle confirmed that it was three I was to take and so I swallowed them over with a mouthful of tap water and sat myself upon the toilet seat.

Something beeped in the back pocket of my jeans. I fished out the temporary phone my mother had bought me. It couldn't have cost her more than ten pounds, your standard brick. In fact my grandfather probably had the same model. A Nokia with big bulky buttons. You couldn't get internet or download apps, but you could send messages, make phone calls and record. Not that it was any use without Parker's number installed in the damn thing.

m e m o r y  f u l l

I frowned at the tiny red light which blinked back at me. I must have nudged a button in the midst of the commotion. Butt dialled or something. I remembered wishing I could butt dial Parker when Jason had abducted me but I'd had my touch screen. Fitting that when I wished I had my touch screen to ring Parker, I managed to successfully butt dial.

And then I froze.

finished audio recording: (2) hours (49) minutes (6) seconds

//thoughts?! pretty big reveal. also I'm a sucker for a cliffhanger I'm sorry guys ahaha. unedited and a bit more rushed than I'd like it but here the update is as promised - even if it is at the last possible hour of uploading to be sticking to my word of a Sunday update. Just point out the typos and stuff as per. This chapter is dedicated to everyone reading because for one, wow I'm still gaining some readers and I'm just so happy with the response to this crappy little idea of mine which one day I decided to play about with and it's more than I could have hoped. Every single reader deserves a shout out bc u all mean so much to me.
Second of all, and admittedly the main factor here boys, my brain is absolute mush so I can't remember any usernames for dedications never mind my own login (took 20 minutes if u were wondering) and I'm not even in the right state anymore to check my notifs for names lmao I am a corpse. Prom last night went good. Waaayyy too good as in the after party went on until morning and then i went out for breakfast and had to do a massive walk of shame home because I'd spent all of my money and then i had to prep for a family dinner so I have lost an entire night of sleep and I can't write this fast enough so I can actually go to bed. SO. quick summary of prom: dress arrived perf (shout out to my postman what a babe), everything was fab, got lit as anything and belted out Come on Eileen and Mr Brightside because they're classics, felt proud of my pitiful fake tan.
There may have been more to say but at this point who knows. I doubt it was all that interesting. Anyway, ily all and I hope u all have as fabulous a night sleep tonight as I'll be getting. no but trust if a bomb went off in my room I'd sleep through it I'm zonked. Until next Sunday amigos x//