Chapter 2

"I'll be gone for a few days, Ari. I have some important meetings up in London. But don't worry, I'll be back soon."

He pulls me into a hug, and inhales deeply as his face is buried in my hair. "It will always be you and me, Arianwen. Just the two of us. Remember that."

Is it another new day? I guess so. I stand with my arms limply by my sides. The way he says the words makes something nag at me, like a small delicate thread being tugged. Remember, it begs. Remember. It's important. I try to follow the train of thought, but the thread snaps, and whatever it was is lost, flying free in the abyss.

"Be a good girl while I'm gone, and take your medication. Mr Danvers will be around to make your meals and help you if you need it. I've left his phone number in the kitchen."

Phone number. Phone. Do I still have one of those? The last time I remember seeing it was that night. I don't have anyone to call anymore. I prefer not having to speak at all.

He steps back and straightens out my nightgown. Another white, pretty thing that swishes around my ankles and makes me feel like the heroine in some gothic novel. Or a child younger than my seventeen years.

Eighteen, remember? I had a birthday…some time ago.

"Ari, remember, don't go into the west wing."

Remember, remember, remember. So many things I have to remember. And so many I can't forget.

With a gentle kiss on my forehead, he turns and leaves. When his footsteps fade on the marble floor and the lock snicks into place, I exhale. It's like a weight I didn't realise I'd been carrying seems to lift, and the engine noise in the distance makes it a little easier to breathe.

Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale.

I don't move for hours.

Some days, I feel like a wraith. A spirit just malingering in this huge house, without a purpose, clinging to the last shred of my existence.

I deserved this. All of it.

If I hadn't caused the accident, if I hadn't argued with her, been reckless…

If.The word that haunts my thoughts, on the days when my mind is clear. It weighs me down, like rocks around my neck, dragging me into the dirt where I belong. Where I should have been instead of her.

It should be me, rotting in the mud. Decaying. Being eaten by worms and churned back out in the vicious cycle of life.

The first raindrops to land on the glass are loud, heavy and fat, a promise of the downpour to come.

I don't know why, but suddenly I'm filled with this need. This urge. To feel it on my skin. To feel the cold, bitter water. To drown in it. To wash away my guilt.

It gets harder to breathe as I'm consumed by this compulsion. This necessity. I need to be outside. I need to just feel something.

Anything.

Without hesitation, I push open the outer doors of the solarium, throwing my whole body weight. I'm weak, and the doors clearly haven't been used in a while, but eventually the glass doors swing open with a loud groan, the metal and glass giving way reluctantly.

The sea air is like a cold slap to the face, the saltiness stinging my eyes as the wind seems to blow right through my bones.

My toes sink into the soggy ground, disappearing into the spongy moss as I walk out through the overgrown courtyard and towards the beach, away from the lane leading up to the manor.

As I move in the opposite direction to Carver, I think about her. I remember the way she would braid my hair. The way she would sigh when I came home late. How she would look at me, big blue eyes filled with disappointment when I was mentioned in the tabloids again. I ruined what we had. I ruined everything.

I reach a crumbling stone wall, large scattered rocks covered in overgrown grass, and crawl over it, ignoring the way my sodden nightgown clings to my skin or the way my hair is tangling in the brambles.

The rain continues to fall as my feet sink deeper and deeper into the muck. My limbs feel heavy, it's getting harder to pull my feet out, like there's lead in my bones, but still I force myself to take another step towards the beach. And another.

I need this. I need to be free from this.

A rumble of thunder rolls across the moor, and as I turn back to look at Clifton Haven Manor, a crack of lightning splits across the sky.

The huge manor house is like something out of a horror movie, cutting an oppressive silhouette into the skyline as it sits, sprawling across the moors, between the ocean and the forest.

The mud comes up to my knees now, and I slog through the boggy land.

Pushing forward, my muscles are on fire, my body screaming as though I'm being torn apart.

I need to find the footpath. The dirt walkway that's carved out into the rock face, and will lead me down to the sea. It's my only goal.

I want to be swept away, claimed by the undertow. The waves beckon me on the horizon, but I'm in no rush. Time is the only thing I have, and so I drop to my knees, crawling when it becomes impossible to lift my legs, ignoring the way the wind whips at my face.

My fingers go numb from the wet and the cold, wrinkling up until I can't feel anything anymore. Muck sticks to my skin, clinging to my flesh as the earth tries to claim me. I push forward, until I can't see anything anymore, the mud, the gale, the rain, I'm consumed by the elements.

My body is tired and frail, but I can't stop now, not even when I press my cheek onto the cold, mulchy ground.

Not even when my eyelids flutter shut and all I can hear is my name whispered in the wind like a curse.

Arianwen.

Arianwen.

Arianwen.

Ari…