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His fingers stroke my hair back, then his lips are on my nose, my temple. He’s soothing me, whispering words I can’t for the life of me make out.
And that’s probably how I surrender to the darkness all over again. I’m coming in and out of it as if I can’t stay in one place for too long.
When I come to again, there are different voices — Papa and Helen. I’m on my bed; I recognise it from the flowery scent and the texture.
Cole says something about me fainting because I didn’t eat much.
Dick.
He manages to slip out of everything whichever way he pleases. Not that I want anyone to know what happened. It’s bad enough that we were discovered by Aiden and Ronan.
“This is all because of Cynthia’s influence and all the diets.” Papa sounds enraged as if he’s about to barge into her flat and start a fight out of nowhere.
“Take it easy, Sebastian.” Helen’s quiet tone sooths him — and me — a little. She says she’ll get me something to drink and it’ll all be fine. That they should all calm down.
I don’t open my eyes, even when some of my energy pushes back in. Facing Papa and what I’ve done is the last thing I want to do.
Besides, I don’t want to see Cole’s face. Hearing that low tenor of his voice as he tells Papa I didn’t mean to starve myself and that I could be stressed is already too much to handle.
This time, I pray for unconsciousness. I want to disappear from this world and somehow wake up in one where I don’t feel as if I killed a few puppies.
Helen wipes my hands with a wet cloth that smells like jasmine. The lulling sensation makes me feel serene, at peace almost. She somehow ushers Papa and Cole out, and that’s when I surrender to the black behind my lids.
I dream of voices. At first it’s my mum’s voice telling me I’m a disappointment and that this isn’t how she raised me to become.
Deep inside, I know it’s the guilt talking, but I can’t help the tears that stream down my cheeks. I’m that eight-year-old again wearing the princess dress with butterfly ribbons and running down the street and crying.
“Papa! Mummy! I’m so sorry. Come back please.”
They don’t. They continue to walk in different directions. I stand in the middle of the street, not knowing which one to follow. My feet are frozen. My heart palpitates faster with every passing second.
“Mummy! Papa!”
They don’t turn around or acknowledge me. They just keep going, getting farther with each breath.
“You want help, my beautiful?”
My head snaps up at the suave voice. Adam. He’s big, like in real life, and he’s wearing his rugby jersey. He smiles as a trail of blood oozes from his teeth and then down his chin.
“S-stay away from me.” I step back. He steps in.
The blood is now dripping down his blue jersey and his white shorts. His smile has turned red and his eyes are camouflaged in shadows.
“You’re beautiful, a masterpiece.” His voice turns monotone like those demons from horror films. “Come with me.”
“No!” I keep walking backwards as I stare at the road my father took. “Papa!”
He stops and hope flares in my chest, but when he turns around, a scowl covers his face. “You disappointed me, Silver. You’re no longer my daughter.”
Then he evaporates into smoke.
“No! Papa!”
Adam and his shadow are getting closer. I’m taking larger steps back, my heart nearly skipping over itself.
I stare at the other road. “Mum! Come back, please.”
She does, but she’s crying. Her tears are red and her hand is wrapped around her wrist. Blood splashes from it and pools at her feet.
