Chapter 33 Breaking Point #3
The silence stretches, and my thoughts whip around like a released kite, wild and tangled.
“I’m still at Sean’s,” he says. “But if you’d feel better with someone there, I can be back at the cottage in a few minutes.”
I bite my lip, tempted. I came out here for space, because I needed air, but now that he’s offered…the beach suddenly feels too quiet, too dark. I don’t want to be out here by myself.
“I’d like that—”
A sharp ping interrupts me.
Then another.
Annoyed, I turn the volume down, but of course, it only adjusts the call.
“Lily?”
“Sorry—my phone’s going mad. It’s—” Ping-ping. “That stupid social app Daisy made me download. It’s blowing up my phone.”
“That sounds violent.”
“No, it just means I’m getting a lot of—”
“I know,” he says dryly. “I’m not that old.”
“Oh. Right. Sorry—”
I curse as a string of notifications flash.
“Did something happen?” he asks.
“Not sure,” I mumble, walking slowly along the ramp as I fiddle uselessly with the buttons. “I’ll meet you at the cottage?”
Ping.
“You’re not already home?” Brandon asks. “I thought you said you left the café.”
“Yes. But I went for a walk.”
Ping. Ping.
“Where are you now?”
Ping. Ping. Ping.
“The beach,” I say, irritation pinching my voice as I halt and tap on one of the bubbles.
“Alone?” His voice grows concerned.
“Yeah…hang on,” I mutter. “I’m just going to turn this off—argh!”
I scream as thunder detonates overhead, the world flashing white as a booming shockwave shudders through my ribs.
“Lily, are you alright?”
“Yes,” I manage, clutching my chest as the sound fades. My heart’s hammering, muscles locked tight, a tremor racing down my spine. “Did you hear it?”
“I did. Storm’s coming.”
“It’s here. Jesus Christ, that came out of nowhere. It’s not even raining yet!”
“Storms move fast on the coast,” he says, voice tight. “You should get off the beach.”
“I will,” I say distractedly as a stream of pings vies for my attention. “I just need to shut this thing up—it’s driving me insane.”
I quickly swipe up the app, meaning to log out, delete it, something—
And then I freeze.
“Oh no,” I breathe.
“What is it?”
“He’s posted a video.”
“What video?”
I tap Play. Jack fills the screen, playing front and centre on stage at the café. I’m there too, both of us playing our guitars, but from this angle, I’m blurred and half-hidden, my voice swallowed beneath his.
“It’s from tonight,” I stammer. “The last song we played together. It…”
A sick lurch twists through my gut as I read the caption.
Lightning tears open the sky, a stark vein of white. Thunder rolls around me again, but I barely feel it. I barely feel anything except the glow of the screen burning through me.
“Lily, it doesn’t matter. You have to get off the beach.”
“It does matter,” I bite out, because my entire chest is caving in, betrayal stabbing me like a dagger. “He’s written… ‘Inspired by the talented Lily-Anne, who helped with guitar and backing vocals tonight.’” My voice grows thick. “Helped? Backing vocals? But…it’s my song.”
Thousands of people have liked the video, hundreds have commented, and suddenly the lie feels so big it almost swallows me whole.
Silence. A lethal stillness—then the world erupts again, shaking the air apart.
“Wait. Jack wrote that?” Brandon asks, words cutting like broken glass.
“Yeah.” My hand trembles around the phone. “He did.”
“Bastard.”
I barely register the curse. Comments flood the screen, the likes climbing by the second. Tags. Mentions. A deluge.
And there, right underneath the caption…
Tagged: @Lily_Anne (Collaborator)
A hot spike of disbelief stabs through me. “I can’t believe this..”
“Lily, are you on your way home?”
The urgency in his tone makes me flinch, jolting me back to my senses as lightning spears the sky, violent thunder roaring in my ears.
For the first time, the darkness around me feels enormous. The beach is empty, the wind tearing at my hair, the path back to the cottage a long black stretch that suddenly feels much farther than it did before.
Ping-ping-ping-ping-ping.
They come faster now, little warning bells, and then the first raindrops hit my screen.
I need to get my guitar out of the rain.
“I’m going now,” I say shakily, breaking into quick, uneven strides up the slipway, ballet flats slapping against the wet stones.
“Good. Find shelter. I’m leaving Sean’s now.” I hear a door slam. “Where are you exactly?”
I open my mouth to answer, but the wind howls harder, pushing me sideways as the world flashes white.
The ballet flats are useless—no grip whatsoever, letting my feet slide an inch backwards.
I hunch forward as I climb, squinting against the wind and trying to shield my guitar from the thin spray of rain needling my face.
Without warning, my shoes slip and send me flying forward, the phone clattering as I release it.
I cry out, heart slamming into my throat as I pitch forward. I catch myself at the last second with one hand on the slick stone, barely managing to stop my guitar from tapping the ground with the other. I shift my grip on the neck before straightening.
“Lily!”
I snatch up the phone.
“I’m fine,” I gasp, even though I’m not—even though the storm is on top of me and I can’t see more than a few metres ahead.
I know coastal storms can move fast, but this is insane.
At least the rain has stopped, a strange yellow hue tingeing the horizon.
I clutch my Cole Clark tighter. “I just need—”
A violent gust shoves me sideways, and I slip hard—my arms flailing, the instrument in my hand buffeted by the wind and dragging me off-centre towards the ramp’s edge.
I twist instinctively to shield my guitar, but I’m already too close, and my foot plunges into one of the deep concrete grooves, wedging tight as the rest of me careens backwards.
“No!”
There’s no railing to grab. I tip backwards towards the water below, shoving my guitar away from me, desperate to keep it on the ramp so it doesn’t follow me down.
My momentum doesn’t stop. My knee buckles, and something in my trapped ankle gives with a sickening crack.
White-hot pain explodes in my foot, searing up my leg and setting my whole body ablaze.
I scream, the sound ripped from me as lightning flares overhead.
My voice cuts off when my head hits freezing water. For a breathless instant, I’m submerged, senses flooded with cold and pain. Disoriented, I thrash and resurface, sputtering.
I’m hanging upside down, scalp drenched, one leg twisted, pain screaming up my body.
I blink up at the dark clouds, the blood rushing to my head, neck already aching as I try to keep my face from sinking back underwater.
I claw at the stone, trying to pull myself up, but my weight hangs from my trapped ankle—my only anchor—and the slightest motion rips through it in a savage, excruciating burst of pain. I barely rise a few inches.
I hang there, gasping panicked breaths, the back of my head submerged, ears waterlogged so every sound warps and bends while my soaked hair drifts around me.
Helpless. There’s barely enough air in my lungs to call for help.
I think of Brandon, but my phone is gone, just a memory now, a spinning flash of light flung from my hand into the darkness.
My guitar is probably on the ramp. Hopefully, it’s okay.
But me…I’m barely hanging on. I try to move, but white-hot pain detonates up my leg, stealing what little breath I have left.
Terror grips me. No one knows I’m here.
I’m suspended, teeth chattering, every muscle stiff, whimpering as my ankle throbs.
The minutes drag by in pure agony, but no one comes.
No one is coming.
Is this it?
My mind keeps skittering back to my guitar—the wood soaking through, swelling, warping. Ruined.
At some point, I start hearing music.
It’s Dad. I see him by the fireside, a silhouette against the flame, hunched over my guitar as he plays, waiting for me.
The room around him glows like the Mallandain Room—elegant walls, grand fireplace, soft armchairs.
I move to join him. It’s warm and safe, the heat of the fire rolling over me, pushing the cold away.
I smile hopefully, waiting for Dad to look up.
“Dad…” I whisper, my lips numb, face damp.
The vision shatters, the fire’s warmth ripping away.
I’m cold. I’m hurt. I want my mum. My dad. Ellenor. Anyone.
But I’m more alone than I’ve ever been.
Lightning flashes.
Black again.
Quiet sobs shake through me, my face burning while the rest of me freezes.
In the suffocating dark, I reach for the girl who once believed her music could save her—but she’s slipping, too weak to move.
All I can do is stay with her.
Try to stay awake.
And wait.