The Hunger She Couldn't Hide

CHAPTER ONE

Ailsa

THE brUISED SKY hung heavily above the city in dark swirls of inky blacks and purples, as day turned to night.

The glow of the city lights rendered it almost otherworldly.

I stared into it, wishing it would swallow me whole, as if it understood something I didn’t.

Sometimes I felt as though I didn’t belong in this world at all.

Like my heart beat to the rhythm of a world that didn’t exist. A shiver ran through my bones, and I shook the odd thought from my mind.

As much as I hated my reality, it was mine, and there was no escape from it—no slipping between worlds, no unobtrusive vanishing.

I was always destined to be the black sheep, the lone wolf—a social pariah and scapegoat in one.

With my eyes closed—as though doing so could shut out the rest of the world and its demands—I took a long inhale of my cigarette, inhaling the poisonous smoke, and relishing the burn.

Yes I knew I didn’t have to smoke outside—yet—but I’d always preferred it.

The peace and quiet; a moment of stillness in the madness.

The faint glow of orange crackled along the paper, edging closer and closer to my fingers, reminding me that time was running out.

I’d have to head inside and show my face soon, and step into a room where I never quite belonged.

I hated these family events, to the point where I’d rather watch paint dry while listening to a cat dragging its claws down a chalkboard.

I didn’t like how I’d be scrutinised and forever reminded that I wasn’t really wanted.

I was late, of course—not deliberately, just from slight hesitation I supposed.

I preferred to be alone, or in a crowd big enough to disappear into, and this event would be the exact opposite.

The ember crept closer to the filter, a slow-burning countdown I couldn’t ignore.

Just another minute.

I exhaled and watched as the trail of smoke dissipated into the night, but it did little to ease the tension brewing in my bones.

It seemed the universe had taken note of my hesitation and decided to punish me for it, as Bradley appeared. I fought to control my face, though my jaw tightened despite myself. The urge to turn away and slip out of this gathering altogether was all too tempting.

Think of Claire, put your mask on, play the part and then you can go home.

Bradley was one of Dominic’s friends, and during the summer I had made the mistake of giving him a drunken kiss, leading him to believe he was in with a chance. Not that he actually wanted me for any reason other than to be able to say he’d gotten with a ‘goth chick’.

I sighed, bracing myself for what was about to be undoubtedly a boring conversation.

“What are you doing?” He asked, eyeing me carefully.

“Enjoying the weather,” I said, rolling my eyes, flicking the ash from the tip of my cigarette and watching as it was taken by the night breeze and scattered. “Obviously.”

His brows pulled together in thought, clearly not knowing if he should take me seriously or not.

My choice in attire often resulted in such moronic pauses of logic.

I had to be a devil worshipper, right? At least that’s what the deeply religious folk would have you believe, like they themselves weren’t knee deep in their own cult.

“Should have guessed you’d be out here,” he drawled, moving closer and pulling out his own pack of cigarettes before fumbling around in his pocket. “You got a light?”

I sighed, nodding, handing him my lighter as I resigned myself to his company. “Smoking’s bad for you, you know.”

He let out a nervous chuckle as he took the lighter from me, bringing the flame to the end of the cigarette perched between his lips. I watched as he took a sharp inhale and relaxed. I supposed that was the real reason any of us smoked—the instant relief. That, and the addiction, of course.

We stood in an awkward silence after that, just inhaling our poisons.

“Right,” I sighed. I really should head inside.

It was Claire’s birthday dinner—well, technically mine too, though I didn’t really like to celebrate it, hence why Claire always insisted on a joint party.

It had been that way since we were little.

We were often mistaken as twins but we weren’t, we didn’t even look alike.

I was older by just over a year, with my birthday landing in November while hers was December.

I wasn’t entirely sure why she insisted on getting everyone together like this every year.

Lord only knew our family was far from conventional.

But it made her happy and that was all I really cared about.

So I always attended.

“See you inside,” I said to Bradley without making eye contact with him—wouldn’t want to accidentally give him any ideas.

He babbled his response and I took a final drag from my cigarette and dropped it onto the wet pavement, where it hissed for a second before I stepped on it with the ball of my foot for good measure.

I hadn’t made it past the front foyer doors before a familiar squeal echoed through the air to my side.

I smiled and met the bright ocean blue eyes of my sister.

Her painted lips spread in a smile wide enough to explode as she practically leapt at me.

Claire threw her arms around me, the sweet scent of her perfume wafting off her as she squeezed.

She was the only person I tolerated hugs from, and she knew it, playing it to her advantage.

My eyes shot to her left hand where the light caught on a sparkly ring as we parted, and my eyes widened.

“Don’t tell me...”

She bit her lip as her head moved up and down with excitement.

“He did,” she said, unable to contain the words any longer.

She was dressed in a fitted cream knit top tucked neatly into a soft A-line skirt that fell just above her knees, her shoulder length brown curls bouncing in her excitement, catching the light perfectly.

She was the kind of person people celebrated.

I, on the other hand, had always been something to be endured.

Even the way she carried herself was open, inviting, as if the world had always met her with kindness.

Where I faded into the background, she seemed to draw the world toward her without trying.

“And you said yes?” I guessed, taking her hand into my own, inspecting the ring. It was a simple yet stunning solitaire silver ring with a perfectly round diamond in the centre. Beautiful really, Dominic had outdone himself.

“I did,” she said, the words coming out in a rush. She was beaming and her eyes sparkled, searching mine for the reaction she expected—the one everyone always gave her.

I pulled her in for another hug. I supposed a momentous occasion such as this meant she deserved it. “Congratulations, I’m so happy for you.”

“I knew you would be,” she beamed. “He really is a good one, you know.”

“I know,” I smiled.

“Anyway, enough about me, how did that wedding cake go? I know you were nervous about it even if you’d never admit it.”

“It was… fine actually, not nearly as anxiety-inducing as I thought it would be. You were, as always, right of course.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” she said, pointing her nose skywards. “Your talents are wasted on mere children’s party cakes.”

I hummed my agreement. I mean she was right, and I really enjoyed the process of making a bigger cake. But equally, the bigger the cake, the bigger the responsibility and I’d hate to be the reason for a bride’s disappointment.

We were just about to head to the set of stairs to the back of the entryway, the ones that led to the private function room Claire had hired for the occasion, when her fiancé greeted us, arms outstretched and smile bright.

“Did you hear the good news?” He grinned, wrapping an arm around Claire after handing her a glass of bubbles, his other outstretched with the same drink for me. His shirt was simple—rolled sleeves, nothing fussy—and he carried himself well. He had a warmth to him that I liked.

“I sure did,” I said, taking the offered drink. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks, Ailsa.” he said, a genuine smile tugging at his mouth, dimples appearing in a way that felt boy-like.

“I assume I don’t need to tell you that you’d better not screw with her or else,” I said, making a small motion across my throat to indicate decapitation.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Claire scolded, swatting my arm. “Besides, he’s stuck with me now—no backing out.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it my dear,” Dominic replied, letting out a soft, almost nervous chuckle. He glanced at her then, not uncertain, just… aware, like he understood exactly what he’d been handed and didn’t intend to take it lightly.

Claire slipped her hand into his without thought, her smile bright and unguarded, and he squeezed it in return. Then, he nodded politely and turned to head back toward his family, Claire falling into step beside him as though there had never been any other place she might stand.

I smiled after them, the expression lingering longer than I expected.

But I’d meant what I said.

I’d kill anyone who harmed her.

She was the only good thing in my life and the only person I’ve ever truly loved.

I was happy for them—truly. Just because marriage wasn’t for me didn’t mean they couldn’t be happy together.

Dinner passed in a blur of polite conversation and unfamiliar faces. Most of the room belonged to Dominic—his family, his friends, people who spoke easily to one another, who laughed without hesitation, who filled the space like they had every right to be there. Because they did, and they cared.

Claire fit among them effortlessly, of course. Drawn into conversations, smiling, listening, shining in that way she always did. They welcomed her quickly and easily like she’d always meant to sit at their table.

The majority of the rest of the attendees were Claire’s friends and co-workers.