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Noah and Me
Noah and Me
Noah and Me
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Noah and Me

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“So you fix broken hearts, do you?” I ask. “Seems a little ironic.”

Noah Carter is one of the best cardiothoracic doctors in the country. He’s incredibly intelligent, funny, kind and he’s a beast in the bedroom. He has scars that drizzle down his chest and painful memories of an unforgettable night that plague his every waking hour.

Seven years ago, Noah stumbled upon me at the side of a grave and saved me in one of the most compassionate ways another human being can save another. I will always love him for that. Always.

He loved me in a way that no man has ever loved me since, and I gave him everything. I gave it all to him until my secrets and lies tore us apart, forcing me to shatter his heart into a thousand little pieces.

Seven years ago, he loved me...but now he hates me. And I hate that he hates me. Leaving Noah is my biggest regret in life - and I have a lot of things that I regret. A lot.

I’m Ariel Miller, and this is the story of Noah and Me.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateDec 12, 2014
ISBN9781311088277
Noah and Me
Author

Beckie Stevenson

Beckie's real name is Rebecca, but she get’s called (and answers to) any of the following...Beckie, Bek, Becca, Rebecca, Pip, Pippy or Stevo. Beckie is the author of 'Sorrow Woods,' the 'Existing' series and 'Noah and Me.' She is due to publish more YA, NA and Adult novels in 2015/16. She lives in Staffordshire, England, with her partner and two children. Beckie likes putting music on in the house and dancing around like a mad woman. When she isn’t playing with her children, doing housework, dancing around the house like a mad woman, walking, cycling, reading or writing, then she can be found working in an investment bank. Or sleeping.

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    Book preview

    Noah and Me - Beckie Stevenson

    Prologue

    THEN

    I close my eyes and lean back in my chair, letting my head drop off the back of the wooden frame. I can feel the heat from the sun on my face as it warms my skin, but it’s not enough. I shake my head. No, it’s definitely not enough. Maybe a cold shower will help.

    Oh, Ariel, it’s magnificent! You should be so proud of yourself!

    I turn my head and squint through the rays of sun at grey-haired Beatrice, who leans in and examines the gold medal that’s hanging around Ariel’s neck.

    You did so well, Beatrice says. You remind me of myself when I was your age. Of course, I wasn’t good enough for the Olympics like you, but I was so sporty that my mother used to tell me that I should have been born a boy.

    Ariel laughs and smiles kindly. Her teeth look even whiter today against her tanned skin. I lick my lips, wondering what she tastes like.

    My mum says that to me too, Ariel says. Do you still run?

    I don’t bother listening to Beatrice’s reply. Instead, I stare at Ariel and watch her mane of platinum hair trickle down her bare back. I like the dress she has on. It’s a pale yellow halter-neck dress that nips in and shows me her tiny waist while pulling in tightly across her juicy, round breasts. Her toned, muscular legs stick out at the bottom and her dress skims over her tight arse, just enough to let me know she’s wearing a thong. It’s probably that little white lace one I’ve seen hanging on the washing line.

    She was wearing a crop top and knicker set when she was doing her triathlon earlier and I got to stare at the delicate muscles that rippled across her stomach and her lovely round bum that wobbled just that little bit as she ran. She’s only seventeen, but she has the body of a grown woman. Her breasts are large yet surprisingly pert, and her hips are slim, though still round enough to know that I’d have something to grab on to. She’s lean but curvy, despite the fact that she runs about one hundred miles a week, bikes to God-knows-where and swims the equivalent of the English Channel twice a week.

    Ariel stood out from the crowd today, and it wasn’t just because she smashed the race record to smithereens. It was because every single man in that crowd was watching her breasts bounce up and down inside her sports bra. They were looking at the muscles in her legs and imagining them wrapped around their waists as she screams their names out.

    Fucking perverts.

    Ariel thanks Beatrice for her kind words, bids her goodbye, and then spins on her heels, causing the skirt of her dress to fly up. I groan inwardly. I can’t take much more of this. I’ve been waiting for over a year now and I can’t wait much longer.

    I want her.

    I’m going to have her.

    Tonight.

    Who are you staring at? asks Bradley as he sits in the deck chair beside me.

    Ariel, I mumble truthfully.

    He frowns and grabs a beer from out of the nearby ice bucket. Why?

    I shrug. She’s a fucking goody-two-shoes. She gets on my nerves.

    Bradley laughs. You’re just jealous that she can run faster than you.

    I shake my head. I can still swim faster than her.

    You’re a guy, he says. Guys can always swim faster than chicks.

    Yeah, whatever, I mumble.

    We drift into a comfortable silence as our gazes move across the grass to watch Ariel playing with the smaller children that have come to the celebration party.

    I was thinking about asking her out on a date, Bradley says after ten minutes, his eyes darting from me to her.

    What? No fucking way. He’s not getting his dirty little hands on her.

    Would you mind? he asks.

    Yes. Yes, I would mind. I’d mind very much.

    Chapter 1

    THEN

    The Beginning Of The End

    I take a deep breath and follow my family out of the reception room. Lily is in my arms, sitting on my hip while playing with my necklace. Her short, fluffy blonde hair is tickling my jaw, but I don’t mind. I love the feel of her little body snuggled against the side of mine.

    When my parents told me they were expecting again, it was a bit weird to think that my mum and dad still had sex. They were both approaching fifty, and while I’m not saying people that age shouldn’t have sex, it was a little embarrassing that they were still producing children when I was fifteen. But then along came Lily. When she first looked at me, I knew I was going to love my little sister more than anything else. I already had three brothers, my twin Michael and two younger brothers, but I had always wanted a sister and Lily was more than perfect.

    She keeps sliding down my slippery satin bridesmaid dress so I have to keep stopping to drag her back up my body. For some strange reason, Lily finds this hilarious.

    Don’t break my necklace, will you? I ask her.

    She looks up at me with her big blue eyes and smiles, showing me her mouth full of tiny milk teeth. No play? she asks in her cute, squeaky voice.

    I kiss my fourteen-month-old sister on her cheek and smile at her. You can play, I tell her, just don’t break it.

    No breaky, she mumbles.

    I pull her closer to me as we exit the warm corridor and feel the goosebumps burst onto her skin when the cold air hits us. She starts to moan into my neck.

    Mum, do you have Lily’s coat? I ask as we all gather on the side of the pavement.

    Mum looks over at us and shakes her head. I forgot it. Well, your father forgot it, but let’s not get into that again.

    I smile. My dad would forget his head if it wasn’t attached to his own neck. Is Michael getting the car? I ask.

    Mum rubs her hands quickly over her upper arms and nods. Yes, but I’m starting to think he’s walked into Leeds to get it.

    I don’t laugh. Knowing my brother, he’s probably having a crafty cigarette in the car park. He wouldn’t be worrying about the rest of his family, who are standing outside, freezing. He’s selfish like that. Here, I say, you take Lily and I’ll go and find him.

    I hand Lily over to my mum and gather the skirt of my dress up into my hands.

    Ariel, my mum says.

    I stop and turn to face her. I don’t like the way she said my name.

    Are you alright? she asks gently.

    I feel my heart beating in my chest. My eyes dart towards my two young brothers and my dad, who are who having a game of tag around a parked minibus. I look back at my mum and see the concern etched across her face. Yes, Mum, I say.

    She puts her cold hand on the top of mine and leans forward, looking into my eyes. You don’t seem yourself. Mums can tell these sorts of things.

    I nod. I think I can understand that. I’m fine, honestly.

    You know you can tell me absolutely anything, don’t you? If you want to talk to me as a friend and not as a mum, then you can do that too.

    My mum is the best mum in the world. I have friends that moan about their mums, calling them all sorts of names and saying that they hate them, but my mum isn’t like that. She’s my best friend and my mum, all rolled into one. I can tell her anything and I know she won’t judge. She’s never had to worry about me not telling her stuff—until now.

    I know, I tell her.

    But just not this time? she asks, raising an eyebrow at me.

    I can’t tell her. I want to. I really want to, but it would kill her. It would shatter this family to pieces and I don’t want to do that. I can’t do that.

    I’ll tell you tomorrow, I whisper. I don’t mean it and I think she knows it.

    Okay, she says, straightening up while tucking Lily under her chin. You looked beautiful today, by the way.

    I smile at her. Thank you.

    I start to walk away from her when our car swerves around the corner. Michael pulls the car up to the pavement and jumps out, grinning like the cat that got the cream.

    What the hell are you doing? my dad asks, walking across the road to us.

    Oh dear. I feel myself smiling. Michael is going to be in so much trouble. My dad marches across the frosty tarmac with a face like thunder and stands in front of Michael.

    My dad is a hulk of a man. He’s the kindest, most laidback man you’ll ever meet, but if you didn’t know him and happened to stumble upon him down a dark alleyway, you’d absolutely shit yourself. His hands are like small shovels, his legs are bigger than I am and his back is about as wide as two people put together. He has the strength of a lion too.

    Have you been drinking? my dad demands, sniffing around Michael’s face.

    Michael shrugs and shoves his hands into his pockets. I’ve only had the one pint.

    You stink, dad says, disgusted.

    I’ve had a really bad day, Michael says, glaring at me. I just wanted a beer to make it less bad.

    You’re not eighteen for another twelve days, he spits. Who the hell got you beer anyway?

    Bradley, Michael says.

    I look away, trying not to listen to them arguing. Lily catches my eye and squishes her hand together in a wave. I wave back and blow her a kiss through the air.

    Love you, I tell her through my chattering teeth.

    Wove yew, she says, yawning.

    Ariel, calls my dad.

    I fold my arms across my chest and walk towards him. My bare shoulders feel like they’ve got frost stuck to them. Yeah?

    I’m assuming you haven’t been drinking? he says, putting his hands on his hips.

    No, Dad, I say, shaking my head.

    Thank God one of you has a sensible head on your shoulders, he mutters, snatching the keys out of Michael’s hand. Here, he says, offering me the keys. You’ll have to drive.

    I open my mouth to protest. I only passed my test last month whereas Michael passed his six months ago after taking a quick-pass course in the summer. I’ve only driven the big family car the once and never at night or down the long and winding country roads to our farmhouse.

    I don’t think I can, I whisper.

    You’ll be fine, Ariel, he says. Just take it slow, sweetheart, and you’ll be alright.

    Why can’t Mum drive? She’s not drunk.

    He shakes his head. She’s had more than one glass of wine. She might not be stumbling around like your brother, but she’d be over the limit.

    I take the keys from his hand and turn back to my mum to get her approval. She gives me a shaky smile and begins to fasten Lily into her car seat in the back.

    Michael huffs and barges past us. He bundles my two brothers into the car and slams the sliding door shut.

    Dad, I say through my chattering teeth, I’m really not sure about this.

    He smiles at me, making the skin at the side of his eyes crease, and clasps my slim shoulders in his big, warm hands. I watched you smash the junior record in that triathlon in the summer, Ariel.

    I nod, wondering what that has to do with anything.

    You’re going to the Olympics in three years, he continues, and I’m so bloody proud of you that I could cry.

    I nod again because that’s all I can do.

    If you can do all of that on your own, then you can drive us all home with me sitting beside you.

    I don’t quite follow his logic and I think it’s because he’s drunk, so I just nod. I climb into the driver’s seat and put the key in the ignition, turning it until the car rumbles to life.

    I could still drive, Michael mumbles from the very back.

    My dad twists around in his seat. I’m totally blaming you for this, Michael Miller. We were supposed to be able to trust you.

    Yeah, well, says Michael, anyone would be a constant disappointment while walking in Ariel’s shadow.

    I feel my mouth drop open. How dare he!

    Leave your sister out of this, my dad hisses. You chose to drink that beer and God knows how many more. I didn’t see Ariel forcing it down your throat. He turns back around and puts his window down. And be quiet. Your sister doesn’t need any distractions.

    I put the car into gear and glance in my rear view mirror. My mum’s worried eyes stare back at me. Are we all buckled up? I ask.

    Yes, my mum calls.

    I take the handbrake off and pull away. I manoeuvre through the car park and then we’re on the long, boring lane towards the Yorkshire Moors. Why did my mum and dad think it was a good idea to live out on a farm in the middle of nowhere? Why couldn’t they live on a nice cul-de-sac with smooth, wide roads and streetlamps?

    Ten minutes later, I’m on Yorkshire’s narrowest and windiest road and it’s pitch black, except for my pathetic excuse for headlights. The cold mist is hovering just above the road, so I can’t actually see much of anything. I’m sure I’ve run over a rabbit or something, but I was too scared to brake in case I skidded on some ice.

    Everyone is asleep. I glance in the rear view mirror and see my mum’s open mouth and can hear the gentle snores coming from the small children. My dad is slumped against the window, snoring the loudest of them all.

    I grip the steering wheel as hard as I can and squint through the mist. I hear a seatbelt click, but I daren’t take my eyes off the road.

    Who has just taken their belt off? I whisper.

    I hear movement in the back and I instantly know that it’s Michael.

    Sit back down, I tell him.

    No, he says. It’s going to take us five hours to get home at this speed.

    So? I counter. At least we’ll get home alive.

    He’s right behind me. I can feel his breath moving strands of my hair. Pull over and let me drive, he whispers. I won’t tell.

    I don’t think so, I hiss. Go back to your seat.

    Pull over, he says again.

    No.

    He leans over and his arms come around the side of me, making his chest press against the back of my seat as he unclicks my seatbelt.

    What are you doing? I gasp.

    He grips the steering wheel and grunts. Let go and move off the seat. I’ll come in behind you.

    I start to panic. A horrible, sweaty feeling starts to creep up my spine and bursts onto the back of my neck. Michael, please stop, I beg.

    He laughs into my ear just as the headlights from an oncoming car light up our faces. Michael! I scream. Let go!

    Our car swerves and I immediately feel vomit in the back of my throat. The jolt wakes up my dad, who swears and tries to steady the steering wheel. Get off, Michael, he orders. You’ll get us all killed.

    The other car decides to peep, its horn screeching out through the quiet of the night like a warning signal. My eyes are wide in my head and I’m staring at the circles of light like they’re homing beacons, guiding me towards them in slow motion.

    Shit, my dad hisses as he unfastens his seatbelt and scoots closer to me. Ariel, take your foot off the accelerator.

    I do as he tells me, but the back end of the car still starts to slide.

    Dad! I shriek. Dad, we’re skidding!

    My dad leans over and grips the wheel in his right hand, but it’s useless.

    What’s happening? my mum asks, her voice thick with the panic I feel.

    I don’t answer her. None of us answer her.

    We’re sliding over the road towards the trees. There’s a bang and a bump as we smash over the kerb. A crunch as the other car collides with us. Then we’re upside down, twirling around like clothes inside of a washing machine. The other car is still honking its horn. Glass shatters. The boys scream. Lily screams. I scream…and then there’s nothing but blackness.

    My cheek is burning hot and my head is throbbing. I open the eye that isn’t mashed against the cold tarmac and see our car lying on its side against a tree trunk. Mum! Dad! I call. I lift my head up but I don’t see anyone else. How did I end up out of the car?

    Blood is pouring down my face and out of my nose. I pull myself up onto my knees, but my wrist gives way and I fall back down, my elbows scraping across the rough road. Why can’t I hear anyone else shouting or crying?

    I crawl with one hand until I get to the broken windshield and then the panic slithers around my shoulders like a snake and squeezes my heart. Lily! I scream.

    She’s still in her car seat, lying on her side, facing me. Her eyes are wide open, unmoving and lifeless.

    I clamber over the broken glass and front seats. Where are my dad and Michael? I reach out to her with my shaking hand, tears streaming down my face. L-L-Lily, I whisper, it’s going to be alright, sweetheart. Just look at me, Lily. I’m over here. I stretch my fingers out and reach as far as I can, but I can’t reach her. She’s staring at me, unblinking. Come on, Lily, I say. Please. She’s not moving and she’s not crying. It’s going to be alright, I sob. Just take my hand, Lily. Please. I love you, Lily. Take my hand!

    Lily doesn’t move because Lily is dead. She’s gone, and she didn’t take me with her.

    I start to scream and it’s the only noise I can hear. Why is no one else screaming or crying? I finally look around and see my mum slumped in her seat, her eyes closed but her hand still holding on to Lily’s. Mum! I cry. Mum, you have to help Lily! My chest is heaving in between my sobs as I shuffle closer to them. I place my hands around my mum’s shoulder and shake her. Her head rolls on the top of her neck. Mum, wake up! I shout. Wake up!

    Caleb and Daniel are in the seats behind them. Their eyes are shut too. Daniel! I shout. Caleb! Can you hear me?

    Nothing.

    I turn around to look out of the windows, but I can’t see my dad or Michael anywhere.

    This can’t be happening. This isn’t real.

    Dad! Michael! I cry. Lily needs help. I slump down against the side of one of the seats and whimper. You have to help her, I sob. I stop and listen for them to say something or even moan, but there’s just an eerie silence hanging around me. Help me! I wail. Help us!

    Nothing.

    Silence is deafening.

    Silence is heartbreaking.

    Chapter 2

    NOW

    Congratulations

    He smiles at me and clinks his glass against mine. Congratulations, Ariel, he says in his deep voice.

    I lick my lips and smile at him. Thank you, Kieran.

    So, he says, squeezing onto the sofa beside me. You’re off to York then?

    I nod, taking a sip of the cheap champagne. Yeah.

    It’s nice, he says. Have you ever been there before?

    I nod again. I lived in the North York Moors when I was a child.

    He looks confused. How come you’ve never mentioned it before?

    I shrug. It’s not a big deal, and no one has ever asked me.

    He blinks, looking thoughtful. I decide right there and then that I’ll take him to my bed. He has such a handsome face anyway, but when he’s deep in thought or when he’s confused, he looks extra cute.

    How come you’re older than us? he asks.

    I narrow my eyes at him and then let my gaze drop to his lips. I hear his breathing instantly change. How do you know I’m older than you?

    He leans in closer until our lips are just centimetres apart. I looked at your driver’s licence.

    That’s just rude, I tell him with a smile and subtly lean away from him.

    He reaches up and takes the glass out of my hands. I was only looking at your picture. You were a very attractive seventeen-year-old girl. I bet you had all the hormonal boys falling at your feet.

    I don’t answer him. He’s too close to my lips for my liking, and I need to distract him from kissing them. I lean into the side of his neck and press my lips to his throat, letting my tongue trail a line up his skin and then nibbling on the bottom of his earlobe.

    He sucks in a quick breath and puts his drink down. You never answered my question, he breathes.

    I took a year off and then had to re-sit my A-levels, I whisper against his skin. Now are you going to fuck me or not?

    I don’t have to ask him twice. Grabbing my hand, he pulls me swiftly off the sofa and to his side in one quick move. He drags me through the room, ignoring everyone that tries to speak to us, and pulls me up the stairs.

    Does your stupid rule still apply? he asks when he reaches a bedroom door.

    I stop for a moment and look into his deep brown eyes. I’m leaving soon. This will be fine. He’ll be fine. I won’t care that he hates me. He’ll be just another in a long line anyway.

    Yes, I tell him.

    Kieran smiles and starts to skim his fingers up my thigh until they disappear underneath my dress. Well then, I guess I’d better make it a night that you won’t forget.

    I giggle and start to unbutton his shirt as he pulls us into the bedroom. Like I haven’t heard that before.

    Kieran pulls the dress over my head with one quick tug and takes a step back. I actually mean it though, Ariel.

    Okay then, show me what you’ve got.

    Kieran tries to kiss me, but I turn and give him my cheek instead. Not the lips, I tell him.

    He pulls back, looking confused. Why the fuck not?

    I shake my head. It’s complicated. Don’t ruin this. I push my hand onto his crotch, feeling the resistance of his cock as it bounces back against my palm. Come on, I tease. You don’t have to kiss me to fuck me.

    That’s what you do when you’re fucking a prostitute, Ariel, and you’re not one of those. He pushes my hand away from his cock and crosses his arms. You’re way too smart and way too pretty to be fucked like a whore.

    I unhook my bra and let it fall to the ground. I watch his eyes devour me. How do you know what it’s like to fuck a prostitute?

    That’s not the point right now, he says, pushing his hands through his dark blonde hair while trying not to stare at my breasts.

    Have you? I ask.

    No.

    I place my hands on my breasts and start to squeeze them. Really?

    Really, he whispers, stepping towards me. Anywhere else out of bounds that I should know about?

    I shake my head.

    He plants a kiss on my shoulder, smiling against my skin as he does it. You’re fucked up, Ariel, he says.

    I know, I say, tipping my head back to expose my neck for him.

    I think that’s why everyone loves you, he tells me, nuzzling his way down my neck towards my breasts. Or maybe it’s because you have an amazing pair of tits.

    The shock of his warm mouth on one of my nipples and the soft nibble of teeth make me gasp. It’s neither of those things, I breathe, unbuttoning his jeans.

    Oh? he mumbles, cupping both of my breasts with his hands while rubbing his face in between them. Well, what is it then?

    I drop to my knees, pulling his trousers down with me. I see the bulge in his boxers before I tug them over his thighs, making his erection bounce right in front of my face. They love me because I give the best blow jobs, I tell him just before I take him into my mouth while staring in his eyes. I run my tongue along his shaft and then circle his little hole at the end, listening to him moan. I immediately begin to relax and sheath my teeth with my lips as I swallow him whole.

    This I can do.

    Chapter 3

    THEN

    The Hospital

    My eyelids drift closed and I don’t do anything to stop them this time. The pain in my head is taking over my ability to make decisions and follow through with them.

    Miss Miller?

    I force one eyelid back open and stare at the middle-aged woman. She smiles, but I don’t smile back.

    Yes? I croak.

    Do you understand what you’ve just been told?

    I’ve heard them tell me that I have a small fracture on my eye socket, a sprained wrist, lots of scratches and bruises, and a concussion. I know that I’ll be able to go home in a couple of days. Yes, I whisper. What about my family, have you heard anything yet?

    With my one eye, I notice that she shuffles on her feet. I swallow the huge lump in my throat and look away. The police are here, she says, and they want to speak to you. Do you feel up to it?

    Will they tell me about my family?

    She nods. I think so.

    Okay, I say.

    I close my eye and try not to think about anything—thinking about it makes me want to rip my hair out. It makes me want to run and jump out of the window. They’re not telling me anything and they haven’t told me anything since I got here. I hear the door opening and then I hear feet moving across the floor.

    Miss Miller, I am Detective Frank Jacobs.

    Good morning, I mumble.

    I’m sorry to inform you, Miss Miller, that your parents, he flicks through some papers, but I’m still not looking at him, Rebekah and Andrew, your two younger brothers, Caleb and Daniel, and your sister, Lily, all suffered fatal injuries during the traffic accident that happened on York Lane in the early hours of this morning.

    I shudder. And Michael? I ask.

    He clears his throat. Michael Miller is alive. He has a fractured tibia and fibula, a couple of broken ribs, a broken collar bone and a severe concussion, but he’s been able to talk.

    I suck in a deep breath. Are they going to take me away now? Will they handcuff me to the bed and have a prison guard or a police officer sitting outside my room?

    He’s confessed to driving while being intoxicated. He’s been formally arrested and will remain in our care until his hearing when he’s medically fit, Detective Jacobs continues. The two passengers in the car that your vehicle collided with have also passed away during the night.

    My mind races back to the events of last night. I was driving. I was definitely driving. He might have leaned over and caused the crash, but why has he confessed to being the one that was driving the car?

    He confessed? I ask.

    Yes, Miss.

    To driving the car? I push.

    Yes.

    And he was drunk?

    Yes, he says. Quite drunk, actually.

    He said that he’d only had the one beer, I mumble.

    It was a lot more than one beer, he tells me.

    I nod. Do I need to do anything?

    He clears his throat, which makes me open my eyes. I’m staring at a short, fat man with no hair and bad teeth. I’m sorry, Ariel.

    I feel myself frowning. What for?

    He holds his hands out to his side. For this.

    I blink, looking around the room. You’ve lost me.

    He frowns. I’m sorry for what’s happened.

    I was in a car crash, I say.

    He nods.

    Why are you sorry that I was in a car crash?

    He pinches the skin between his eyes. I thought the doctors had explained it all to you.

    They have, I say, nodding. They’ve told me about the scratches and bruises and this, I say, holding my bandaged wrist up for him to see.

    You don’t understand, he says.

    I don’t understand what?

    The situation you’ve found yourself in, he says, clearly exasperated. For losing five members of your family in the space of one night and then finding out that your brother is responsible for it.

    What’s he talking about? I shake my head. Do I need to do anything? I ask again.

    He glances at his colleague, who must have been standing there without saying anything the whole time. You need to get better, he says.

    Do I need to do anything? I repeat.

    Erm, he says, clearing his throat again. You need to get better.

    I don’t understand. I’m not unwell. For what?

    You have funerals to arrange.

    For who? I ask.

    Your family, he says.

    My family?

    He nods. Yes.

    Oh God. It was real. It was all real.

    They’re dead.

    I have funerals to arrange. I have to tell people. I have to tell the school. I have to tell the post office so they don’t keep sending mail to the house. I have to visit my grandparents’ graves to tell them. My mum used to tell me that they’d always be listening when we went to their gravesites.

    Images start to flash through my head. My mum’s worried eyes in the mirror.

    She’s dead. They’re all dead.

    Caleb and Daniel screaming.

    I’m never going to see either one of them again.

    Lily’s lifeless eyes staring at me, her future ripped away from her in the space of seconds.

    She didn’t move. She was dead. What was the last thing I said to her? Shit, I can’t remember. I was holding her. I waved at her and blew her a kiss. Did I tell her that I loved her? I can’t remember.

    My father telling me he was proud of me.

    My mouth hangs open and

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