Chapter 4
chapter four
cora can't come to the phone she's trauma dumping
My first love wasn’t a person. In fact, I’m pretty sure I fell in love with painting so much over the years that it was my second, eighth, and ninety-fourth love, too.
But like all great loves, the flame had died out. Entirely, since December.
Since… you know.
And it was probably the biggest heartbreak of my life. To the point where looking at the blank canvas in front of me now was as painful as a knife being plunged in the centre of my chest and ripping me in two.
Turns out I won the bet with myself I made earleir. I did leave my class at noon.
After an hour of sitting there I’d convinced myself that everyone could read my thoughts and could tell that I wasn’t all there.
That I’d lost all inspiration and I’d probably join the other dropouts within the next month or so.
So, I subtly packed away my dry brushes and untouched paint and snuck out before anyone noticed I'd gone.
I thought that easing myself back into painting at home would have been a better use of my time.
My bedroom felt nowhere near as daunting as the aging stone walls of Liberty Grove, and when I sank onto the stool in my room I wondered why I'd ever even left this morning. But the paint I’d squeezed into my palette an hour ago had officially dried, and any ideas I’d had were nothing but TV static in my mind.
The groan I let out as I straightened out the curve in my spine scared me at first, but then I remembered I was on my own and I wouldn’t be caught for sitting here.
“Sitting here doing absolutely sod all because I can’t fucking paint ANYTHING!”
My voice broke as the scream tore through the silence, right as I launched my palette against the canvas, knocking it from the easel and waiting for its crash against the hardwood floor.
Defeat forced my head into my hands, my fingers tugging my hair and pulling just enough to force a sob out of me.
I didn’t know why I hadn’t been able to paint anything since the attack.
Or perhaps I did and admitting it was just going to make me realise how broken I really was.
But every time I lifted my brush, white canvas taunting me, all I could see was Jamie’s face.
That sick, nightmare-inducing smirk that made me feel like I was being hunted.
The slight sheen of sweat over his forehead. The determination in his blue eyes that I’d never seen darker than dusky. It was in every corner of my mind, as though I was wandering through a gallery and every picture hung on the wall, skied to the ceiling, was of him.
I let go of my hair as it slipped through my fingers and pulled my knees from my chest slowly, until I was sitting cross-legged on the floor. And like the universe wanted to haul me from one worry to the next, my phone buzzed with a notification.
￡5,000 has left your account.
Two seconds later, another appeared from the care home's app.
Thank you for your payment!
Sadness settled over me like a weighted blanket as I re-read the words. It wasn’t the money that stung. I’d hand that over without blinking. No, this ache came from the reminder of what it was funding.
Mum.
I’ll paint you the picture, seeing as though it’s the only thing I can paint right now.
My dad barely made it past the prologue in my life. DNF’d at chapter three with Harriet, my big sister. He showed up for my first birthday, smiled for the photos, then realised he didn’t want to be a family man after all. By morning, he was gone. Tale as old as time.
Mum held it together. She had to. Raising two kids under ten in a Camden flat that barely fit one was near impossible, but she made it work. Until Harriet turned eighteen, packed her bags for the States, and left us behind. Mum without a babysitter for her hormonal teenager, me without a guide.
That was the year everything cracked.
At first, it was little things. Mum forgetting to eat, staring out the window like she was waiting for someone who’d never come.
Then the dark days stretched longer. She’d sleep through alarms, miss work, stop answering the door.
The bills piled up. The fridge emptied. She said things that didn’t sound like her. That scared me.
And before I knew it, I was dialling 999.
That whole night was a blur, the only memories willing to stick in my head being the way the living room was stained blue from the lights and the thousand and one questions the paramedics asked me.
All of which I couldn’t answer. All I could do was cry.
My mum wasn’t my mum anymore, and I didn’t know where she’d gone.
It was early-onset dementia, the doctors said, after days of tests and hushed conversations. Stress and worry had chipped away at her mind until she needed more care than I could ever give. I was fifteen. Just a kid. And as much as I wanted to be enough, I wasn’t.
The only option was a home.
Thankfully, Mum had tucked away part of my inheritance for me, and when I turned eighteen that carried us through the first few years.
And with no other family to help, after that, it was on me.
Every bill, every expense, every month. I don't know how I slipped into the influencer gig.
It just kind of happened. One viral moment turned into hundreds of them and suddenly I was in rooms with people I'd only ever seen at the cinema.
Leaving London was always on the cards for me, regardless of what happened to Mum.
I didn't care where, but I knew I needed more.
Needed to see more. Needed space to truly do wha I loved in a place I loved just as much.
And with Liberty Grove having one of the best art schools in the world, catching a flight to New York was was I did.
Didn't harm the double life thing, either. If anything I had more connections here than I did back home.
And since then that was my life.
Smiling for the cameras.
Earning the funds for mums care.
Painting for me.
But I didn’t complain. Not once. Because if promoting brands online was what it took to keep the woman who gave me everything safe, if being the internet’s It Girl was what kept her that way, then I’d do it a thousand times over.
I’d gladly keep smiling.
I’d gladly keep playing that part.
I could live with people thinking I was shallow. I could live with them thinking all I cared about was algorithms.
What I couldn’t live with, was not having my mum here.
I’d been crying for the past ten minutes since that thought floated through my head. Text Harriet halfway through. She talked to me until they dried. I was reminded of all the ways I was lucky to have her, regardless of the way things worked out.
Harriet wanted to live in a world without those memories.
And considering their relationship, considering how mum treated her as her substitute nearly all of the time, I was fine with that arrangement.
Because Harri was my guardian angel. She’d been there when mum hadn’t.
And I couldn’t thank her enough for that.
So, doing this for her, for us, seemed fair in my eyes.
As I brought my eyes back into focus, they zoned in on the white canvas. Still bare. Still on the floor. Still screaming at me to climb over whatever mental fence I’d built and just paint.
Thankfully, as I felt my mind start to slip, my phone started to ring from my lap. My knees popped as I got up and leapt onto my bed, but the second I felt the tiniest bit of comfort, it all vanished the second I saw who was calling me.
I took a moment to prepare myself before I swiped the screen and carefully placed it against my ear. “Hey, Louellen.”
“Ah, Cora! How are you, sugarplum?” She chirped, loud enough that it sounded like she was on something.
Loved that about her though.
My bottom lip sank between my teeth as I scrunched my face. “Better. I’m better.”
Lie. I was just as bad as when she'd called three days ago. But I couldn’t keep delaying my life forever, especially not this life.
Her sigh sounded like a baby bird tweet. “Oh, good! That’s wonderful news.” She cleared her throat. “Well, the reason I’m calling is because we need you to come into the office.”
Great. “How come?”
“We just have a few things to discuss. Nothing bad, all good, actually! It’s just to confirm your attendance at some events we’ve got lined up before the start of summer.
We just wanted to go through them with you to see which ones you want, or definitely don’t want, to attend.
Anything to make this transition back into society more comfortable for you. ”
This time her tone didn’t grate on me. How could it when I knew the woman it was coming from genuinely cared about my well-being?
Louellen knew about Mum. Figured that she needed to know the real reason why I was dozing off every time she brought up my career trajectory. She knew art was my one true love.
I remember the first time I saw her after the attack. I’m pretty sure there are still dents in my arms from how tight she was holding me, as though Jamie would burst through the doors in the office and try to steal me away.
I sucked in a breath, a tiny smile playing on my lips. “I think… that’s a great idea. When do you need me?”
“Is today too soon?”
I shook my head, even though she couldn’t see it. “No, today’s perfect.” I probably needed some fresh air. All I could smell was paint, and that wasn’t doing me or my head any good.
“Wonderful,” She sang, before silence stretched for one second, then two, before their voice came again, this time a little reserved. “And… now don’t panic about this, Cora.” My pulse picked up. “We may have found a replacement for… you know who.”
I didn’t know why I was so shocked. Of course they’d find a replacement.
After what happened, they certainly weren’t going to send me back out into the mobs of cameras unprotected.
But the thought of someone else lingering so close to me, someone who, for all intents and purposes, was a stranger, made my skin crawl, and the hairs on my arms stand to attention.
The static through the line was enough for Louellen to know how that made me feel.
“Nothing is set in stone yet. He’s just a potential. But I met him this morning and he’s really, very lovely.”
So was Jamie when I met him. Lovely meant nothing to me anymore.
“But if you aren’t feeling comfortable or don’t like him, then we’ll keep looking. I promise, we’re doing everything in our power to make sure that what you went through is a one-time thing.” She stole a breath. “We promise, Cora.”
While I’d trust Louellen with most things in my life, I was happy that I was getting to vet these potentials before the dotted line was signed, and they were essentially my shadow. I didn’t have that pleasure with Jamie, and I’m sure the team felt guilty enough without me reminding them of that.
But to look at Jamie, you wouldn’t have thought he was capable of what he did, or tried to do, to me. So I needed to be thorough. I needed to feel in my gut that the person assigned to protect me was going to do their fucking job.
I rubbed a hand over the back of my neck before letting out a sigh. “Will he be there?”
“He said he’d hang around if you decided to come in.”
I bit my lip, more out of nerves than anything. “And does he know about why exactly we’re looking for a replacement?”
“Oh, he knows.”
I tossed the thought around in my mind once more, before I huffed. “Okay, fine. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
I practically heard her smile through the phone. “I’ll get a meeting set up right away. I’ll see you soon, sugarplum.”
With that, the line died and, with the absence of her Disney Princess-worthy voice, my stomach sank as reality hit me.
I knew I needed protection, but this time I was going to make sure that my shield wasn’t going to be the thing that nearly ended me again.