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Prologue
They made my life a living hell, for as long as I can remember. I could try to pretend that it doesn’t bother me any longer, that the wounds have healed and all is forgotten, but it’s not going to happen. They thought they’d broken me, and I was done and out but I’m back now and this time, they won’t win.
Growing up in the wrong part of London should have given me the advantage over them all, but for the longest time I had my brother to look after me. His friends made sure no one dared to look at me the wrong way and I loved them, my guardians and protectors, our brothers by choice not blood. I was only seven, but you couldn’t fake that kind of care and love. until it all disappeared.
He was fifteen when it happened, I can remember it all so clearly. The day my world ended; I may not have died but I’ve lived in hell ever since.
“Elliott, please don’t go. You promised you would teach me how to ride a stunt bike, please,” I begged, using my puppy dog eyes and my sugar sweet voice that he always struggled to refuse.
“I won’t be gone long, I promise pipsqueak I’ll show you all my tricks when I get back.”
“I’ll tell mum and dad,” I threatened, and he dragged his hand down across his face.
“No, you won’t. Remember what I said, we always look out for one another and we never break our trust. Cause then I won’t trust you any longer, is that what you want?” he asked, knowing I would fold instantly.
Looking back, I wish I had run and told my parents, maybe then none of this would have happened. But hindsight is a cruel mistress, and I didn’t.
He smiled down at me knowing he had won, before picking me up and spinning me around without a care in the world.
“I love you pipsqueak no matter what happens, never forget that okay. Now be good and I’ll be home soon.” He gave me a wet kiss that turned to a raspberry on my cheek, before he climbed out of my bedroom window.
One last wink before he disappeared from my line of sight. I ran to my window and watched as he climbed into Devon’s car and drove right out of my life for the last time.
The police were at our door a few hours later. I remember coming down the stairs as my mother fell apart, screaming at the officers. My dad insisted that Elliott was upstairs in his room and that it had to be a terrible mistake. He looked to me as though I was the only one who could save this day, and my face crumpled. He stared at me, and soon he too was on the ground, rocking with my mother as their hearts shattered across the floor— our entire world was over.
One death destroyed our family, but it wasn’t just one death to me. Three of my brothers died that day, one went to prison and one lay in a hospital bed with little chance of ever waking back up.
This is how my story began and how the hell that was to become my life kickstarted, I thought things could never get any worse, until we moved, and I have no idea how I have survived for this long.
One
My mum couldn’t bear to stay in London after what happened to Elliott. I didn’t know the ins and outs of it, my parents tried to keep it from me. I just knew he had died. Devon was blamed, and Asher would more than likely spend the rest of his life in the hospital. His parents wouldn’t shut him off, thank fuck, but the doctors told them that he would probably never awaken. It wouldn’t do any good to feed them false hope.
So, we moved away. My dad found a job in a law firm closer to our new home, and even though I screamed and begged them to change their mind it was of little use. They thought moving us to Northampton would keep me safe and stop history from repeating itself. Only, I think it was the biggest mistake they could have ever made.
I started primary school and the kids were okay, there were a few mean ones to say the least, but I kept to myself. I made a few friends but it didn’t matter, we never stayed anywhere long enough for real attachments to be formed. My mum took a bad turn and she became addicted to painkillers, before moving on to stronger things. By the time I hit eleven and was ready to move up to secondary school we moved again.
At seventeen years old, and after changing schools for the umpteenth time, my father felt it was unfair to keep uprooting me, and they sent me off to Padstow Academy, a boarding school, to finish my education. I could go home for the holidays, but I was set to stay here until I did my A-levels and decided whether I wanted to go the college or university route. As if they cared what I actually wanted. So here I am in yet another school and all I want is to go back to London and confront Devon. Everything went wrong when I was seven and I’m ready to discover why it happened and maybe then my parents will finally be able to sort their shit out. I’m barely holding it together most days and I still feel like I’m the only one who can function in this new reality. Doesn’t matter that it’s been ten years, it still feels new, painful and as though I can’t always catch my breath. Because even now, I still can’t believe that he would have put my brother or any of their friends in harm’s way.
The first person I meet is some stony faced girl who clearly doesn’t want to be here, maybe we’ll get along great, but I know that won’t happen. Ever since Elliott died, I no longer form attachments, friends mean very little to me and loneliness is my best friend.
“Yo, new girl. Follow me and keep up, I won’t be coming back for you, if you get lost.”
Yet another reason why I don’t form friendships. Girls are bitches and guys always leave
