Chapter Fifty-Four

CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

I watch Riley with Evan, crying her eyes out. I know she's struggling with this, we're both struggling, but we're on opposite sides of a void and we can't support each other. It seems so cruel.

I remember that night, with the Ouija board – how could I ever forget it? I remember that dead boy. Maybe I can find him, and then at least I'll have some company. But I don't want a dead little boy from a different time. I want Riley. I want my mother. I want my life back.

Evan always was close-minded about things that can't be proved scientifically. A bit strange, perhaps, for someone who wants to be a novelist. He's interested in stories, in people, in their motivations. Story is all about emotions, surely? And those aren't scientific, they can't be measured. Maybe he'll figure that out, or he won't be a very good novelist.

He shut Riley down pretty fast. I wonder if she will try the Ouija board anyway. And if she does, would I be able to reach her? What would I say to her? I could only tell her how much I miss her, how angry I am to be here, with no idea of how to move on. It would only upset her. Would I be less lonely? I don't know.

She cries for a long time, while I observe the two of them, my two best friends, sharing their pain. I follow them upstairs and stay with Riley when Evan goes back downstairs. I watch her lie down in his parents' room. But she's like Goldilocks, something is bothering her, the bed isn't comfortable, perhaps? She gets up and quietly moves across the hall and I follow her into Evan's room and watch her lie down on his bed.

She turns over, and I'm about to leave her there, when her body goes completely rigid. She's staring at something underneath the bed. I move in and take a closer look too.

It's my phone. In the corner underneath Evan's bed. What the hell is it doing there? A wave of confusion rolls over me.

And – seeing my phone there, hidden under Evan's bed – I suddenly remember all of it, every traumatic thing that happened to me, and it's a fresh wave of horror all over again.

I remember that night in my room, what Mr Turner did to me. How he made me strip naked, how he stared at me as I trembled in fear. How he left me there, warning me not to tell.

And all at once I remember the last day of my life, how it began, and how it ended. How I got out of bed, having hardly slept that night – and went into school early to confront Mr Turner in front of Principal Kelly.

I told Mr Kelly how Turner had broken into my house the night before and what he'd done – and watched him deny it. He was white-faced, angry, and said it was sheer fabrication, outrageous, and how could anyone believe me? He said I was making it up and no one would believe me because I hadn't even been raped , and there was no evidence. I sat there looking at him, remembering the leather gloves, and thinking he was a monster. I couldn't understand why Mr Kelly didn't believe me. Why would I make something like that up?

‘What do you want me to do?' he asked helplessly.

‘I want you to know ,' I said. Then I turned to my tormentor with loathing. ‘If you ever come near me again, I will go to the police, and I will bring charges against you.'

I should have gone directly to the police that morning. But there were a lot of complicated reasons why I didn't. I was afraid they wouldn't believe me, just like Mr Turner said, and he was probably counting on that. After all, there was no actual evidence. The door was unlocked – he just walked right in. He never touched me. I didn't want to go through all that and be called a liar. But mostly, it was Cameron. I was afraid of what he might do if he knew what Mr Turner had done. I thought Cameron might attack him, and be charged with assault, and ruin his own life. I didn't want that. I loved Cameron, I just didn't want to spend the rest of my life with him. And … I was afraid Cameron might blame me a little. I was afraid he might think I'd led Mr Turner on somehow. Cameron was so possessive, so jealous, so insecure where I was concerned. Kelly didn't believe me, and I wasn't at all sure Cameron would either.

That morning, I left Kelly's office, pulled myself together, and went through the school day pretending to be fine, but inside I was a complete mess. The rest of that day was uneventful – up until the terrible argument that night with Cameron. I hardly remember that day, even though it was my last day among the living. I should have appreciated the sun on my face more, the way food tasted. But I had no idea then that I wouldn't see another day. I just pretended that everything was normal, faking it for everybody, even Riley, while thinking the whole time about what I should do. But I didn't go to the police that day.

And that night, after Cameron dropped me off, I was so angry. Cameron and I were finished. It was a relief, really. I had no space in my head any more for him and the time he took and his controlling ways. I was tired of making decisions based on him and how he might react. A man had crept in my back door and had terrified and humiliated me and I couldn't even tell my boyfriend – or anyone else – for fear of how he'd react. That wasn't love. That wasn't right.

I locked the doors, afraid that Turner might come back. But that night, after Cameron had behaved so badly, after what I'd endured, I decided that the next day I would go to the police and tell them everything. I couldn't let myself live a life governed by fear. Cameron had to take responsibility for himself. I was no longer willing to take responsibility for him.

And then, just a few minutes after I'd got home, I heard a knock at the front door. I didn't answer it because I thought it was Cameron again. But then I got the ping of a text. It was from Evan. Are you home? Can I come in?

I wasn't in the mood to see anyone, but I let him in.

‘What's up?' I asked, as he entered the house. I remember looking out at the empty street – there was no truck out there then. I locked the door behind him.

‘I'm glad you're home. I need my Moby Dick back, for an assignment I'm working on tonight – pulling an all-nighter.'

‘Shit, right, I'm sorry.' I'd borrowed it and forgotten to bring it back to him at school that day as promised, because I'd been so absorbed in my problems with Mr Turner. I went up to my room to grab it and came back downstairs and handed it to him.

‘Not out with Cameron tonight?' Evan asked.

I figured I might as well tell him. ‘We were out, but we had a fight. I broke up with him.' I shrugged. ‘So I'm home early.'

Evan sat down, uninvited. ‘You finally broke up with him? Why?'

I sighed. I didn't really want to get into it right then, but Evan was a friend. ‘It's a bunch of things. But mostly he's more serious about us than I am. He thinks it's for ever. I want to go to a different college, and he won't hear of it. I didn't really have a choice.'

‘Wow,' Evan said, looking at me. ‘Good for you.'

‘You mean that?'

‘Of course. Cameron's being a dick. He's too controlling. A girl like you – you need your independence. You're too … glorious … to be tamed.'

That made me a little uncomfortable. Especially because he was looking at me in a way he hadn't before.

‘Anyway,' I said, standing up, ‘I'm really tired, and you've got that assignment to do, so …'

He stood too. We were standing there in the living room. I remember it all so clearly now. I understand why I blocked it out – because it's too shocking, too horrible.

‘You know I love you, Diana,' he said. ‘Don't you?'

I stared back at him, surprised. I felt acutely uncomfortable. It was too much. After everything that had happened to me in the last twenty-four hours, I was approaching hysteria. I didn't know what to say, so I laughed. I was trying to make light of the situation, to reduce the tension in the air for both of us. But it was a mistake.

His face transformed. In an instant, he wasn't the familiar Evan I knew, but someone cold, different. Everything changed in that moment. I had misread him. I'd misunderstood him, all these years. He was not someone to laugh at, he was someone to be afraid of.

‘How dare you laugh at me,' he said quietly.

‘Evan, I'm not laughing at you,' I said desperately. ‘Honestly. I'm just really tired. I think you should go.' I turned away from him then, to move toward the front door, to get him to leave. I noticed that the heavy curtains in the living room were drawn, and no one could see in. And then he knocked me down.

The blow to my head was crushing. I think I blacked out for a second. I was so confused. I remember trying to crawl from the living room, but my limbs weren't working, and I just collapsed. I wanted to escape. But his voice.

‘Oh no you don't. You don't get to ridicule me,' he said. There was so much nastiness in his voice. I tried to lift my head and saw him pull my jump rope off the living room doorknob and I thought, in disbelief, He's going to tie me up and rape me.

But I was wrong. He pulled me back by my legs and turned me over in the middle of the living room floor. He climbed on top of me to hold me down, pinning my useless arms to the floor with his legs, and wrapped the jump rope around my neck and pulled. I was so afraid. I remember us looking into each other's eyes for a long, grotesque moment. I felt my eyes popping, the crushing pain in my throat, knowing that I was dying, as he looked down at me with rage. The last thing I heard was my phone ping with a text.

And then I woke up in that field, looking down at my naked body, assaulted once again by those ugly birds.

How many ways, I think, can a girl be assaulted? I never got to live my life. I never got to live to be old enough, to become unattractive enough, to be left alone. To finally just be .