Chapter 29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
OPHELIA
By the time grey morning light seeps through my curtains, my eyes burn with exhaustion. I drag myself through my morning routine on autopilot, fingers fumbling with the stiff fabric of my uniform, the collar scratching against my neck.
There’s no, “Ophelia? Breakfast!” this morning. No checking my mouth for pills. The slam of the connecting door echoes around the house long before I tiptoe downstairs.
Bryan’s coffee mug sits in the sink, its bitter aroma hanging in the air. My meds are trapped inside the pantry safe.
No note, no apology. Last night’s anger still hangs in the air.
The bus ride to school passes in a blur of beige houses and overcast sky. Earphones in, I play Bryan’s messages from the weekend, lowering the volume as the anger in his voice grows, my unease ballooning along with it.
I thumb into my contacts list and stare at my mother’s number. My only reaction is a small flutter in my stomach.
Relief.
I can stop holding out hope.
Her part in my life is done, and the finality leaves me calmer.
At school, Damien waits opposite my locker, slouching against the wall with casual arrogance. He wears a polo neck that’s part of our winter uniform, and when I sniff, all I get is soap. No trace of his usual cologne.
I clear my throat. “We need to talk.”
“Good morning to you too.” His lips curl into an infuriating half-smile.
“Don’t.” I grab his wrist, nails digging into his warm skin. The corridor buzzes with students, and the common room chairs are already full. I pull him into an empty classroom, the door clicking shut behind us.
“I’m in trouble. Bryan was furious last night, demanding to know who I was with.”
His eyebrows arch.
“Someone beat him up while he was out searching for me. He’s got a black eye, and…” My throat closes, words dying before they form.
Damien’s face remains maddeningly calm. “What did you tell him?”
“What did I…?” Disbelief clogs my throat. “I didn’t tell him anything. I lied and said I stayed over with a girl from school, but he didn’t believe me.”
“Then you should’ve lied better.” He shrugs, like this is nothing. “Make up a boyfriend or something. Some kid from another school.”
My fingers curl, nails biting into my palms. “This is all your fault. You told me he wasn’t there. If I’d known, I could’ve—”
“But he wasn’t there.” His voice hardens with certainty. “I watched him drive away, and he never came back, I swear. No one was in the house when I got you.”
“Then how did he know what happened?” The words burst from me, bouncing off classroom walls. “He wasn’t guessing. He said a boy carried me out of my room.”
Something flickers across Damien’s face. A twitch at the corner of his mouth, a momentary tightening around his eyes.
“Damien.” I step closer and he angles away, jaw muscles bunching beneath his skin. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“Nothing.” His voice is tight. “It doesn’t matter.”
“The fuck it doesn’t! He’s going to kick me out.”
“And I already said I’d pay for a flat. One we can share. I’ll help you move—”
I slam my palms against his chest, driving my weight forward. He doesn’t budge. “Tell me how Bryan knew, or I swear to God…”
His neck cords, eyes darting away for a fraction of a second. A muscle jumps in his temple.
“There’s a camera.” His words tumble out, rushed and defensive. “Not anything I installed, but… he might’ve seen me on the camera in your room.”
The world tilts sideways. Sound muffles, then rushes back too loud.
“What camera?” My tongue is thick, clumsy. A cold sweat breaks out across my skin, prickling like ice needles.
“It’s hidden in the ceiling corner above your door.” His eyes fix on a point beyond my shoulder. “Pointed at your bed.”
Biles surges up my throat, sour and burning. “There’s a camera in my room.”
“Yes.”
“Watching me.”
“Yes.”
Images cascade through my mind. Nights changing for bed. Mornings dropping my wet towel on the floor. Moments I believed were private. All exposed.
“How long have you known?” My voice sounds disconnected.
“Ophelia…”
I shove him again, harder. “How long?”
He exhales, heavy with resignation. “A few weeks.”
The betrayal doubles me over, a sucker punch. Weeks. He’s known for weeks and never said a word.
“After you crashed my support group,” I say haltingly, pieces clicking into place with sickening clarity. “That Friday. You got a text during music class, from your friend…” Left evidence at a crime scene, but a mate just fixed it for me…
His silence confirms everything.
“You broke into my house and stole my pills.” Laughter bubbles up, shrill and jagged. “That’s what the text was about, wasn’t it? The evidence he fixed was you being caught on camera.”
“It’s an old model. My contact, he—we—thought it must be from a previous tenant.” The excuse hangs limply in the air. “Some creep who lived there before. I didn’t think—”
“You didn’t think?” Fury blazes through my veins, hot and bright and cleansing. “You knew there was a camera in my room, watching me, and you didn’t think you should warn me I might be in danger?”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“Then what was it like, Damien?” I move closer, skin baking in his body heat. “Tell me what it was like. Did you watch me yourself? Use the feed to plan when to show up? To see what I was wearing before you broke in and…”
The words die on my tongue.
Of course he watched. He’s an opportunist.
The sad part is, if he’d installed it himself, I might even look past the invasion of my privacy; he’s stalked me enough ways before. But to know someone else put it there. To know and never say anything…?
His hand reaches toward me, and I slap it away, the sharp crack echoing in the empty classroom.
“No.” My voice breaks. “You knew someone could be watching me, exploiting me, and you decided spying on me yourself was more important than my safety?”
“That’s not—”
“Isn’t it?” Tears sting behind my eyes, but I blink them back furiously. “You knew, and you kept it to yourself because it benefitted you. Because you could use it. Just like you use everything.”
My hands move to my face, fingers closing around my glass frames. The lenses that bought my world into focus, made navigation easy. His twisted gift, the symbol of everything he holds over me.
They clatter onto the floor tiles. I lift my heel and bring it down. Once. Twice. The plastic frames splinter. The lenses fracture into a web, then shatter.
I grind them beneath my heel until they’re nothing but broken pieces, beyond repair. Sunlight stabs my unprotected eyes, making them water. Damien blurs, doubles, triples before me.
“We’re done.” I stamp my heel one last time as punctuation. My fingers find the doorhandle. “Don’t touch me. Don’t talk to me. Don’t even look at me.”
“We have an arrangement.” His voice strains, control slipping for the first time. “You agreed.”
“Before I understood you’d been complicit in my surveillance.” My eyes close, hiding from him in the dark. “Before I found out you chose watching me over protecting me. So fuck your agreement and fuck you.”
“Ophelia—”
“I mean it, Damien.” I raise my chin, opening my eyes.
Whatever he sees there makes him step back.
“If you come near me again, I’ll tell the school and police everything.
The threats, the coercion. Go ahead and do your worst. I don’t care who knows about the pills.
I’ll flood the socials until your name is everywhere.
I’ll burn your whole world down, and I don’t care if mine burns along with it. ”
His hand twitches toward me, then falls limp. “You’re making a mistake.”
“The only mistake I made was believing you cared.” The words taste as bitter as they sound. “I won’t make it again.”
I walk out of the room, leaving him standing among the shattered remains of his gift.
My vision blurs worse than ever; the world reduced to vague shapes and indistinct colours. I unfold my cane with a snap.
Behind me, he calls my name one more time. I keep walking, out of the corridor, out of the school where classes are starting and life continues as if nothing’s changed.
I need to pack up my things and get out of the house before Bryan returns. Get somewhere safe.
Tomorrow I can sort through the wreckage.