Page 25 of Vying Girls
Skylar catches my eyes. ‘Dunno. Something got you in this state. Girl trouble?’
I shrug, not willing to get into it. Came here to forget all that.
‘Love our girl chats,’ she mocks. When I’m done with my water, she says, ‘Help you back to your tent? I’m kinda done here.’
I ignore her subtle smirk, clueing me into just what kind ofdoneshe means.
I think about it. Will it even be standing after last night’s storm? Shouldn’t be too waterlogged given the elevation, but…
‘Think I just want my bed.’ And enough painkillers to kill an elephant.
I fall over it, groaning as everything resettles and shifts. My stomach roils, mouth filling with saliva as I try not to puke. At least the bleeding’s slowed. Felt like Hansel and Gretel dropping my blood crumbs all the way through the forest. Was waiting for a wolf to jump out at me any moment.
Maybe that was a bit dumb. I concede. Maybe I should have taken Skylar to one of the glass rooms instead. Although, given her involvement with the resident band, that might be off the cards.
I try to sniff, the tears coming easier now I’m alone and vulnerable as fuck. Not only am I still thinking about Tilda, I’m thinking about her in more pain than I’ve ever been in.
I grit my teeth until they subside. Nothing to cry about here. If I can do hours-long tattoos sessions, I can endure a beating from Blakely.
Could have been worse anyway. Skylar managed to squirrel me away to my room without alerting the others. I’m sure they heard though. They’re clearly busy. Only closed room was Tilda’s, telling me exactly where everyone is. I wonder again if she’s told them. Maybe they’re too pissed off to seek me out.
I lie there miserably, dying to sleep after the fitful hour or so of kip I got this morning, but this throbbing has other ideas. How many heartbeats can one body have?
The sun pierces me through the gap in the curtains.After the storm comes a calm.Doubt that’s true for me. My storm’s just ratcheting up. Not sure it’s going to be worth the cleanup either. No point if there’s no survivors.
I shake my head weakly. I feel like I’m on a comedown, one of my worst. I add a couple of 5-HTP tablets to the pain killers swishing around in my belly. Hopefully drown out this pity party.
My fucking fault. Should have nipped this in the bud months ago. Put my foot down, stopped her moving in. Not let it all build up like this.
Quien planta vientos, recoge tempestades.Whoever sows winds, reaps tempests.
Blakely taught me that one. It’s fitting. I’m sure she’ll teach me more tomorrow, most denoting to what a fucking idiot I am. Who in their right mind takes on the Beast of Hazelhurst? No one, that’s who.
At least I feel calmer. Dead, almost. I should be out making the most of this sun. Probably be blizzarding again tomorrow. I should be doing something about my tent. But there’s no motivation for any of that. Just wanna rot up here forever.
I might be able to do that, but certainly not alone. It’s not long before a hear a knock at the door. When I don’t answer, it pushes open and I know immediately who it is. Only one person would enter so hesitantly.
Tilda. My tempest.
‘Oh my god,’ she says, her breath catching in a little gasp.
I keep my eyes closed. Blakely got a good hit on one of them. Hurts to open.
‘What happened?’
I breathe slowly, once in, once out.
‘Nothing I didn’t ask for.’
Tilda shuffles closer until she’s next to the bed. I feel her eyes raking my body. I’m sure bruises are popping up all over the shop.
‘Did someone hurt you?’
I try not to snort so hard. Don’t want the bleeding to start up again.Yeah, someone fucking hurt me. And it wasn’t the girl in the cage.
‘Have you told someone?’ she goes on. ‘Student services?’
‘Told you, nothing I didn’t ask for.’
