Lupercalia (Darkest Night Trilogy Book 2)

Chapter 4: Hell

I rubbed my eyes and looked at the screen again, just in case it was a trick of the light. It wasn't. The two life-changing words were still on my screen, clear as day. I waited a few minutes in the vain hope that she would admit her sick joke. No more messages came through. As I started to type a reply, the window went blank. "Hannah Lily Evans is unavailable to chat." My chest turned to ice as the truth finally hit home. Hannah had stopped loving me. After all this time, she'd eventually said it. A few days ago she told me she wanted this to be forever. That was laughable. She'd lied to me for six whole months. As that realisation sank in, I went numb. I couldn't move from that chair. Although even if I could have, I still wouldn't have. What would be the point? I thought about everything, and I just couldn't see the point in any of it. 

Later that night, I effectively dragged myself into my bed. I didn't waste any time thinking about anything, purely because there was nothing to think about. I closed my eyes straight away and attempted to fall asleep. Unfortunately the nightmare that had lain dormant for six months greeted me like an old nemesis. And when it returned, it returned with a vengeance.  

It started off like usual. I would be standing on the infamous beach, and Jenny would be giving me her whole speech about how it wasn't working out. Then I would drop to my knees in agony and she would roundhouse kick me in the chest. But tonight there was more to it. After Jenny had walked away, another figure took her place. Hannah offered her hand to help me up, but as soon as I took it, she twisted it around and punched it straight through my chest. 

And so, as always, I woke up at ridiculous o'clock and couldn't get back to sleep. Back to my old routine. When a sensible time came around, I went downstairs and pretended that I'd just woken up. 

"Morning, Mum." I said, trying to fake a smile. Hopefully it would look convincing enough. She studied me intensely for a few seconds before she went back to her cereal. I breathed a mental sigh of relief. I couldn't break character for even a second. One slip up and she'd figure out everything. And this time I didn't have the excuse of being stressed out about my dad. "Is it alright if I go and see Stephen later?" In reality I had no intention of going to see Stephen, but he was a believable cover story for when I needed to be alone. In fact I didn't even know who he was; I'd just heard his name mentioned in one of my classes once and it was the first that came to mind. 

"Sure, just be back before dinner." came the reply.  

So a quick shower and dressing later, I was walking down the road to the town centre. It was where I'd always gone when I was stressed. I'd go to the library and lose all my troubles in a book. But that idea soon fell flat. As I sat at a table with the latest offering from my favourite author of all time, I suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to look over to my left. I tried to resist, but it became like a persistent itch that eventually I would succumb to and scratch. I glanced in the general direction, and what I saw made me lose all interest in Stephanie Lourdes. James Fisher sat a few rows along from me, but that's not what kept me staring. Because for the first time since I'd met him, he wasn't alone. Sitting beside him was the beautiful redhead who'd ruined my life the second time around. I tried to focus on the book in my hand, but the words kept shifting and blurring. In the end I gave up and walked out. I began thinking of places I could go without fear of running into her. Then it hit me. 

After a quick detour to my garden shed, I got on my bike and began to ride. I couldn't believe I hadn't thought of it before. She was going everywhere that had a powerful positive connection to me, so I had to go somewhere with a negative link. Ten minutes later, I was on my beach. My original plan was to go up to the cliff and sit in the silence for a while to reflect on everything. For some reason however I felt the urge to walk around. I reasoned that I hadn't been here in three years so I wanted to see how much everything had changed. As it happened, the answer was not very much. I walked into the café that my mum used to work part-time at and took a seat. I kept my head down and began to think about how quickly life can change. The last few times I was here, I'd be sitting at the window, and Jenny would be at the counter saying- 

"Two coffees please." My head snapped up. There at the counter stood the Blonde Bombshell herself. My heart froze. It seemed like my past was coming back to haunt me. I knew I had two options. I could either face her head-on, or run and never look back. What was I? A man or a mouse? Jenny started to walk closer to me. Mouse, any day! I sprinted out of the café and didn't stop until I was on the beach. 

I couldn't keep doing this. Everywhere I went either one or the other would turn up. I headed for the cliff, my self-proclaimed "inspiration spot". I sat down on the grassy verge again and closed my eyes. The memory of my last visit flooded into my mind. I squeezed my eyes closed tighter to try to stop the tear escaping. I failed, and it rolled down my cheek. I almost fell asleep, when a voice from the beach behind me snapped me out of it. 

"This is where he asked me out before. I just felt sorry for him if I'm honest. He always sat there on his own, I deserve a bloody medal for what I did. Whine, whine, whine, moan, moan, moan. Always going on about his ex." I walked along the flat surface, and stopped just before the hilly part. I could see everything perfectly. Hannah and James sat on the golden sand, so close they were practically touching. Then James put his hand on Hannah's cheek, she leaned forward and their lips met. A sharp wave of agony shot through my chest. This wasn't just the stiletto heel that had come from Jenny. I'd gladly take that a thousand times over than go through this. This felt like Hannah had ripped out my heart, shot at it with every weapon in existence, and then stamped on it for good measure. More silent tears rolled down my face. I knew what I was going to do now. My mother had told me to be home for dinner. She shouldn't have worried about that. She should have worried about if I was coming home at all. 

I turned my back on Hannah and James, and made my way towards the edge of the cliff. I stopped and looked straight down. It must have been a good hundred feet up, and the sea was looking particularly rough. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and allowed myself to fall forwards over the edge.