Chapter 36
chapter thirty six
don't fear the valleys
It’s not Jamie.
It’s. Not. Jamie.
I’d been repeating those three words in my head for the past month, and I still refused to believe them.
Partly because I was still hoping it was him.
There was a safety in knowing who was after me.
Almost like, if something were to happen, I’d at least be a little prepared for what I was facing.
And with that, and the tailored self-defence routine I’d nailed, thanks to Marcus, in case anything were to happen, I could leave the house safe in the knowledge that I was as prepared as I could be.
But it wasn't him, and I wasn't prepared.
The only thing I was now, was scared.
Shocker.
After that night when Marcus took care of me, I stayed at his house for the next week.
And he let me. He brought me food and handed over all his streaming devices and let me sit with the realisation that we’d been wrong this whole time.
He had offered to go get my paints and let me steal some of his canvases, but I knew I wouldn’t need them.
I felt exactly how I did in the days after Jamie attacked me. Hollow. Drained. Void of every version of myself. Like I was stuck in this emotionless purgatory, waiting for the moment when I felt something. Anything other than numb.
I was in my bed now. Had been ever since leaving next door.
I’d barely left my room, but I suppose I didn’t need to when I had the girls coming to my room with food and tea and fresh tissues.
So, to put it bluntly, I was back at square one in every way imaginable.
But the only part I hated was that the Nouvelle Gala was coming up quick, and I’d barely started on one of the three pieces I needed to showcase.
And it wasn’t like I hadn’t been trying.
Don’t be shaking your head at me and telling me to just get on with it, because I’ve tried.
I really have. Take this morning, for example.
I woke up at five am, and instead of turning over and falling back asleep, I walked over to my canvas, the one I’d half-finished before Marcus…
you know what he did. I shut out everything, ignored every natural instinct to not grab my paints and grabbed them.
I closed my eyes and lifted my brush and…
well, if I’d painted something, I would have opened with that.
I just couldn’t.
So now I was back in bed, sipping Earl Grey, listening to the forever falling rain on the window as my mind circled back to the same conclusion.
It’s not Jamie.
His name reminded me that Marcus told me he was meeting with him today, actually. He texted me, like he does every morning.
Today at 10:23pm
Marcus
You’ll be okay on your own today?
i'll be fine.
will you be okay today?
Course. I’m just talking with him.
i wouldn’t be mad if you hurt him, just a little.
If he’s innocent, you know I can’t do that.
and if he’s not?
Well, I’m not going to text it, am I?
But let’s just say I’ll make him regret the day he went after you.
i’d kind of like to do that myself if he is.
Then I’ll keep him safe until you get here.
i feel so weird that i hope it’s him
Me too.
what happens if it’s not?
Then I won’t stop until we find them.
i think i’ll tag along for the journey.
I’d say no, but you’re pushy, if you haven’t noticed.
so i’ve been told.
i’ll be home by 4.
kiss me at 4:01?
Deal.
I read those messages back all morning, and they made me happy enough to open the curtains.
Marcus felt like my break, you know? My childhood wasn’t the greatest; my dad left us all out of the blue, my mum got poorly, and my sister, for lack of better wording, abandoned me because she couldn’t face it, and just when things were starting to look up, just as I’d found a way to give Mum her care and I’d wedged myself into a friend group that felt like a family I was born into, this happens.
I ran my hands through the knots in my hair and groaned, falling back against my mattress, wanting it to swallow me whole—
Three knocks on my door sounded, and the hinges creaked.
“Cora?” It was Daisy.
I kept my sheets over my head, muffling my voice. “She’s not available today.”
I heard her giggle and enter the room, my bed creasing as she perched on the end. “Someone’s here to see you.”
I pulled the sheets away just enough for my head to poke out and find her, a big chunky cable knit jumper covering her, with butter-yellow joggers I knew were Goldie’s. “If it’s not Lily Allen or Stevie Nicks, or God here to apologise for all the shit she's put me through, I really don’t care.”
Her head bobbed to the side. “I think you’ll care about this one.”
My brows pinched and, because I’m just hot-wired to be nosey, I threw on a marl grey hoodie and some lavender bike shorts, slipped into my Crocs and followed her down the stairs.
Dais led me into the living room, and I caught her smile as she clocked whoever was waiting for me. My steps quickened as I rounded the doorway, only for my eyes to land on a woman I’d never seen before in my life.
She smiled as she saw me. A toothless one, but one that made the dimples appear in her left cheek, both of which popped, showing off how rosy they were.
Her eyes were a shade of brown I felt like I’d seen before, and so was the shape.
Her nose was prominent, strong and narrow, perfectly complimented by her deep olive skin.
Thick, chocolate-brown strands of hair fell over her shoulders, curling at the ends.
She was beautiful, basically. But I still was oblivious as to who she was and why she was here.
“I’ll be in the kitchen.” Daisy’s palm smoothed over my shoulder before she closed the door ajar and her footsteps disappeared down the hallway.
The room was silent for a good few seconds before she spoke. “Hi, Cora.”
Her voice was just as beautiful as she was, laced with a slight accent. Something Latin. I was sure.
I wandered to the couch on the far wall, directly opposite the armchair she was occupying. “Hi…”
Her head fell to the side as she filled in the pause. “Lana.”
Lana.
That was all I needed for my mind to clear.
I knew those eyes because Marcus had the same ones. Their skin was the same shade. But her accent was way thicker than his. His was barely a hint.
“Marcus’s sister.” I guessed, even though I knew exactly who she was.
“Guilty.” She shuffled, her brows pinching. “He didn’t tell you he called, did he?”
I shook my head. “No.” I shuffled too. “He said he doesn’t talk to you much.”
Her smile pulled tight. “I don’t know why, but he doesn’t.
You’re right.” She tucked her hair behind her ears.
“But he knows I’m here when he needs me.
And when he called and told me what happened…
” Her eyes rounded, softened, like she was looking in a mirror.
“I came as fast as I could. I'm sorry I couldn't get here sooner.”
“I’m sorry about what happened to you.” I blurted, not knowing why.
She sighed and got up from her seat, wandering over to the spot next to me and claiming it, harsh sun hitting the high points of her face. “I’m sorry about you, too.”
I shook my head. “Don’t be; it’s not nearly as hard as what you had to go through.”
She shrugged. “It doesn’t make it any less painful. Situations like ours, they aren’t ranked. If we hurt, we hurt, and regardless of what happened to cause it, it’s valid.” Her back arched a little, looking at me. Really looking. “You know that, right?”
No.
“I guess.”
Her smile was covered with sadness. “You don’t. I know you don’t.”
My brows pulled, as I threw my shields up. “You’ve been me for two seconds, and you think you know me?”
Lana paused, eyes bouncing between mine. Then, her smile grew. “I can see why Marcus likes you. You’ve got fire.”
“It’s genetic, apparently.”
Thank you, Mum.
Lana tilted her head and smiled softer, her lips thinning. “Good. It’s a good thing to have. Especially when you’ve been through what you have.”
I don’t know why I was suddenly so defensive, but I didn’t know how to stop it either. It was that pressure I felt whenever counselling was mentioned after the attack. Some weird part of me must have thought that speaking about it made it real and that was just too scary for me to even imagine.
“Why exactly are you here?” I bit out. I didn’t mean to.
She shrugged, sneaking a dagger past my armour. “Marcus called me and said that you might want to talk to someone you could relate to.”
“Well, I’m not exactly in a very talkative mood.” Without thinking I got up and headed for the door, my back turned to her. “Sorry you wasted the trip—”
“You’re not sleeping, are you?”
I turned back to face her, heart plummeting.
“And you’re blaming yourself for everything. For not being okay, for causing this in the first place, for being too kind, for being hurt—is this ringing any bells?”
My breath quickened, and I froze in place.
“You’re scared of losing yourself, so you’re trying to figure out all the ways you can make it go away and life can get back to normal, right?”
Yes.
Silently, I nodded.
So did Lana. “I might have only been here two seconds, Cora, but I know you. I was you, okay?” Her smile beckoned me closer, and soon enough, I was sitting back down beside her. “I just want to help you feel normal again.”
Helplessly, I shrugged. “I…”
The words caught in my throat.
“I don’t remember what normal feels like anymore.”
Lana’s deep brown eyes softened. “You won’t—not for a while. And that’s okay.”
“No, it’s not.” I shook my head. “It’s not fair.”
My hands ran over my face, then through my hair.
“Why was it me?”
She gripped my hands. “I asked myself that every day after it happened. And I’m still not sure I have the answer.”
I sniffled. “That’s… comforting.”
Her chuckle was like sunlight. “It’s the truth. And honestly, I think that’s what you need right now.”
She wasn’t wrong.
“And while I can’t give you all the answers,” she went on, “I figured I could let you in on the important ones.”