Page 80 of Vying Girls
Nic groans, rocking on the edge of the bed. ‘He didn’t do shit!’
‘You can say that all you want, but I’m going to keep telling you until you believe me. Is this why you took so long to tell me? Because you knew you couldn’t keep up with your little fictional story? Bet it is. Because deep down, you know the truth.’
‘I’ll tell you what the truth is, Tilda. It’s that that man was the only family I had. Real family. It was just him and me and then you told your little lie, and he was soscared,Tilda, that he fucking hanged himself. Hanged himself for me to find, right above his desk, tallest room in the house. How do you think that was for me? Jesus, I tried so hard to lift him. He was long dead, but I knew he’d be okay if I could just get that fucking rope off hisneck. And I almost managed, but then he fell, so fuckingheavy,and my arm broke, and I couldn’t fuckingbreathe.Didn’t want to breathe. Wanted to go with him. But the fuckingpainkept me anchored.’
She says all of this without taking her eyes off the mask.
And I can’t take my eyes off her. The tightness in her jaw, her chest rising and falling quickly, swamped in that t-shirt. Even through my anger, I hurt for the child she was then. ‘He hanged himself because he knew what happens to paedos in prison.’
She looks at me now, a stark warning in her eyes.
‘Did he ever do anything to you?’
‘Shut up.’
‘You’ve got a real fucked up family, Nic.’ I watch as she finally moves, crossing to her bookshelf. ‘You belong with them.’ She doesn’t respond, but I know she’s angry, rifling through the books for God knows what. ‘Wish I’d never fucking met you.’
‘Then let’s make that happen.’
She advances towards me with a book in her palm. She pushes me back on the bed, taking me by surprise. Straddling me so I can’t escape, she flicks open the book.
The Witch’s Grimoirewinks in silver foiled lettering. Not one we pored over as kids, but it’s still surprising to see her with a spellbook. Just how many mementos of us does she have? More than me. I just have memories left. And now this—a living, breathing, hating Nic.
In the inadequate light of my phone, she’s more shadow than not as she flits her eyes over the page.
‘No string,’ she mutters. I gasp as she leans over to her bedside drawer, her knees digging into me painfully. She pulls out a tatty bit of gold curling ribbon and a pair of scissors.
‘What are you doing?’ I try sitting up but she just squeezes harder with her legs.
‘Cutting you out,’ she replies, eyes as cold as I’ve ever seen them. ‘Undoing our last spell.’
‘No.’ Panic flares as I fight against her. ‘Don’t do that.’
She pushes down on my shoulders, nails biting into them. ‘I will fucking tie you up.’
I reach out and shove the book, trying to tip it over the edge of the bed. She slams a hand on it, finds the page, and begins to read.
I shake my head. It’s a cord cutting spell, a reversal, an undoing of the love spell we last performed. The one that kept me haunted by her ghost. The one that brought me back to her.
It’s all nonsense, I know, but I can’t bear for her to do this. Like the moment it’s over, my heart will stop. Or hers. She’ll fade into nothing, out of my reach again. Only forever this time, with no magic to return her. A fate as permanent as death—worse knowing it’s a suicide.
‘Nic, please stop.’
She moves the book out of my reach, her other hand resting the tip of the scissors against my neck. She doesn’t take her eyes off the page, murmuring the words like a chant.
Each one falls on me like a fist, like the hail from Anarchy, relentless and violent. Memories of us surface and fade in my mind, like water down a plughole. I can’t bear it. I put my hands over my face and sob, the wet gasps warming my palms.
Nic’s words falter. ‘Why are you crying?’ She sounds annoyed, angry, but there’s a hint of regret there too.
‘Because you’re fucking upsetting me! Shit.’ I wipe my eyes. ‘Nic, how can you do that? Having you with me was the only good time in my whole fucking life, and Iknowyou feel the same. I know it all went to shit but don’t pervert the rest of it. Don’t ruin it. I want to remember the good forever. Ineedto.’
She stares at the book for a long time before finally closing it with a grudgingthunk.The scissors slide away from my neck. I turn my face into the pillow, suddenly exhausted.
Sitting back, Nic looks me over like she’s realising our positions for the first time. Her gaze snags on my thighs, the new lines etched there.
She nods to them. ‘How do you do that shit?’
I take the question for what it is, a way to move on from what just happened. I graze my fingers over the rough marks, my sleep shorts ridden up to the tops of my thighs. I should feel ashamed talking about it, but it’s like talking to myself, the shadow self that resides within.
