Each day, Calla and her fragile heart are that little bit closer to death... but before she goes she'll prove to the world the boy she loves is no murderer.
🖤🖤🖤
With a life steeped in wealth and privilege, Calla Pierce should be protected from t...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Six months earlier...
I wake with a start. And instantly, I know something's wrong. The air is strangely still. Owen's flat is quiet in a way that feels unnatural. My limbs are tangled in the rough sheets. I turn over and find his side of the bed empty. The bed dipped from where he'd slept beside me. With a smile, I spread my fingers across the sheets, still feeling his warmth.
His deep voice creeps in from the front room, and I feel myself settle. Dragging myself out of bed, I stumble to the window. I see the early morning sun peeking over the other towers of the Heights. Every window glimmers in pink and gold. The world outside is equally quiet, still. I dress quickly and walk into the main room of the flat. I frown, noticing the disarray of the room. Like he's been hunting for something. Cupboards open, the contents of drawers scattered across the floor. He's pacing in front of the window as he talks on the phone. His bare chest lit by the dawn light. He sees me, his face softening a little before returning to the snarl when the other person speaks again. I've learnt by now what those faces mean.
"There's no problem, trust me. I'll be there. Just give me a few more hours."
He glances my way apologetically and moves closer to the window as I shuffle to the kitchen. I don't mind. Owen doesn't keep that side of his life away from me because he's dishonest. He believes he's protecting me. And maybe he is. But I also think he enjoys having a part of his life unsullied by it. A part that belongs to just him.
I fill the plastic kettle with water and press down on the tiny lever. I need to leave soon. Today is a Wednesday and though my parents believe I spent the night at Tara's, they're expecting me to go to school. The kettle does nothing, the little blue light stays dull. Frowning, I walk over to the light switches. A few clicks, but nothing. No light means no electricity. This explains why the flat feels so still, without that ever-present thrum of electricity, the world seems unnaturally silent.
I twist and see Owen watching me. He closes his eyes in frustration and then nods in knowing. I turn back to the kitchen, pretending to do something, though there's not much I can do without electricity. I pull an empty mug out of the cupboard.
"I have to go. I told you. I'll be there." He hangs up the call even though I can hear the other person still yelling. He walks over till he's by my side and tries the kettle for himself.
"Shit."
Without pausing, he storms towards the bedroom, his face still stern. I follow him in, noticing for the first time the chaos of the room, that the wall space is exposed. The few objects he usually has hidden are dispersed around the floor. He slips a T-shirt over his head.
"It's OK. I'll grab a coffee on the way to school. It's not..."
"You should be able to make a cup of tea, Calla."
"It's nothing. Owen..."
"I forgot to top up the metre. I'll go now and I'll..." He glances around the room, searching for his wallet. I walk forward slowly. I can see he's worked up. Owen has a temper, but he rarely loses his cool, not like this.
