3. CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 3
Nic
The shower’s blistering, scalding my back, stinging my wounds, abrading every inch of skin it touches.
Shame it does fuck all for the mess in my head.
The tiny bathroom’s a steam room when I get out, too hazy to see the state of myself in the mirror.
Can only be a good thing.
Not bothering with a towel, I cross to my bedroom. No need to. No one hassles me at the top here, my sanctum outside of the pine forests I call home more than this lodge.
So hot the water was, only my hair’s dripping by the time I redress, pulling on joggers and a crumpled tank. The steam’s managed to reach even here, fogging my mirror and window. I catch sight of myself as I pace, too restless now to call it a night.
I’d been exhausted after my cathartic trip through the forest, rejuvenated only by a quick stop to the Fright Night thing going on. I stare at the Ghostface mask, unable to recall who I filched it from.
I wasn’t too surprised to see Haz and Elly crashed out with some girl in the living room. It’s like a revolving door here between the three of us. Too much sometimes, hence the need to escape to the trees.
It hadn’t been above me to fuck with her in the kitchen. It was Halloween after all, and I’d liked what I’d seen of her on the sofa. Chances were, if she was in this house, she was gay. And if not, well, she’d still be fun to fuck with.
If only I hadn’t turned that damn light off. If only I hadn’t pushed up against her body, feeling every dip and lump below that slutty number. If only she hadn’t smelled like toffee apples and cherries.
It hit me the moment Haz threw the light on.
Hit, struck, pulverised.
The tempered rage rushing back in.
The dam broken.
I wasn’t expecting it. I never am, despite carrying the girl like a haunted talisman around my neck.
Tossing her from the house was a mercy for all.
I hoped I was wrong, by some fucking miracle, only to have it confirmed when I asked Elly her name.
Tilda.
Matilda fucking Kingston.
Jesus.
I scrub hard at my face, splitting the knuckles on my hand again.
I’ve already exorcised one demon tonight, now another pops up like a fucking Hydra.
I flex out my hand, watching the blood well up like jewels.
Hazelhurst is known for its ghosts, but I hadn’t thought it would be the living haunting the living.
Tilda…
How long has it been? Nine years, ten?
A whole decade for the hate to fester, and oh, Jesus, has it ever festered. I’m green with infection, pus oozing from every pore.
I cross to the window, craving solace from the silent pines, their shadows deeper than even mine.
It’s not safe for that girl around here. This sickness is infectious.
If she’s on their course she must be in her second year. I’ve gone a whole year without knowing of her existence here.
Maybe it was just a twist of fate, a cruel gift. A trick on Halloween night.
Her outfit—
I close my eyes, swallowing against the vision of her black bodysuit and torn up tights.
A skeleton. How fitting for the creature who massacred my future, who took it all from me before it could even begin.
How could she not remember?
Her face is a permanent brand behind my eyelids. Same beguiling green eyes, same long hair.
Still pretty.
My breath fogs up the glass, obscuring my vision of the castle in the distance. My throbbing knuckles help to ground me, and I rub my thumb over them to make them bleed just that bit more.
Yeah, it’s not safe for her here.
Maybe she’ll fade back into obscurity now, known only on the lips of Elly and Haz as some rando course mate.
It’s a nice thought but scabs have a way of becoming reinfected once they’ve been picked.
Staring out over the gently swaying pine trees, I know in my blood I’ll be seeing Matilda Kingston again—and soon.