Chapter 1

"Ionly want what's best for you, Ari." His voice is an oil slick, sliding over my skin and leaving behind a toxic residue that makes it hard to breathe.

When I don't reply, his words slipping through my memory like sand, he sighs, making the weight of his disapproval known.

"You know your mother would never want to see you like this."

The word ‘mother' stings, like something sharp pressing into my skin. There's an uncomfortable pressure swelling in my chest, like the ocean pulling back the waves. The sensation just lingers on the periphery, but it doesn't break through the haze.

I'm locked up so tight. Hidden.

Tucked away, even from myself most days, just existing as a hollow shell. Lost in my own foggy thoughts.

A hand reaches out, gently stroking my hair. It's gotten long now, I haven't cut it since…well, since before. The pale white blonde strands seem almost silver in the moonlight.

The irregular pitter-patter of raindrops land on the glass, filling the stretching silence, and I watch as they race and run in rivulets down the cold glass. My breath forms in smokey little wisps as I exhale slowly. Even breathing feels like an immense effort most days.

What if I just…stopped?

What if I never took another breath and my lungs didn't expand, and my heart just…stopped?

I want it to stop.

"Arianwen? It's time for your medication. Come on, my little Rapunzel." He snorts, the nickname dripping with sarcasm. I know he hates how wild my hair has become, how untameable. He often threatens to cut it, making me shiver every time he does.

There's a hint of bitterness on the tip of my tongue. It's muted, but it's there, like an almost-taste. A memory. I want to say something. I want to tell him that I'm not his anything. But I don't seem to be able to find the words.

I don't remember the last time I spoke to someone. It might have been at the funeral. Or perhaps the hospital? Time passes in a blur now, the dusky sunrises filtering in through the large windows, eventually fading into the darkest nights.

Four months.

Or was it five?

Ten or eleven since that night.

I don't know.

There's no one else out here. No cars, no noisy neighbours, nothing but foggy fields, forestry, and waves crashing onto a pebbled beach below. There's only us, in this large house filled with shadows and shrouded in secrets.

"Here." He pushes two pills past my lips, and I let my mouth fall open wider.

Without looking at him, I take the water he's offering. As each day passes, it gets harder to look at him. Sometimes, I think I'm watching him and then he shifts, morphing in front of my eyes into something sinister. Something predatory.

I swallow.

The tang of bitterness grows.

The rain stops, but a fog blankets the house. Even if I could escape, if I were free, nature is keeping me here, cocooned. There's nothing beyond these four walls when it rolls in off the ocean like this.

I stay in the solarium most of the time, tucked away amongst the half-dead plants and intricate metal work. If I could summon the energy to care for the plants, I would.

But I can barely care for myself.

Instead, I pretend I'm free when I curl up on the chaise lounge with a throw and stare out across the fields. In the moments where I'm grounded, where I remember that I'm alive and breathing, I like to imagine that someday soon I'll go outside, instead of watching from behind the glass.

A soft brush moves through my hair, and my body sways with the motion.

"It's just us now, princess."

A flicker of a memory. But when I try to focus on it, it takes flight like a hummingbird.

"I'm all that you have left."

Aren't I lucky? That's what someone said to me at the funeral. I was lucky to have Carver to take care of me after the accident, lucky to have such a kind and loving figure in my life. Lucky that after everything, he was still by my side. Lucky, lucky me.

Why don't I feel lucky?

"Maybe it's time we cut this?"

That snaps something in me, and I scramble backwards, my hair falling from his hands like spilled silk.

There's an exasperated sigh as he gets to his feet. "Okay, we'll talk about this another time."

There's a break in the cloud cover, and the whole solarium is bathed in milky moonlight.

Like this, Carver is made of harsh lines, hidden in darkness. His suit is immaculate, like always, the red silk tie perfectly straight. His murky brown hair is slicked back, there's not a single strand out of place.

He doesn't look like a man who lost everything that day. Like a man grieving for the love of his life. Does he not miss my mother at all?

"Try not to fall asleep in here again tonight, Ari, otherwise I'll have to take you to bed."

My gaze meets his. The corner of his mouth tilted upwards into the ghost of a smirk. I blink, and something in the back of my mind flickers into life. A small ember, simmering beneath the surface.

After taking my medication last night, I drifted here in the solarium looking up at the stars until there was nothing. No dreams. No memories. No guilt. A sea of nothingness. Not even pain.

When I'd woken this morning, I was back in my bed.

Another sunrise turning everything it touched a soft orange hue. I'd been wearing a white nightdress, with a pale pink ribbon between my breasts. I hadn't remembered wearing it the day before, but the days blur. The details are lost. Unimportant.

Turning away, I focus on the black and white Victorian floor tiles. Black. White. Black. White. Black. White. Row after row. Nothing else matters. Black. White. Black.

When I look back up, Carver is gone and I'm alone again.

White.

Black.