Eight Boys and a Walker girl

48 | What happened after

48 | What happened after

2 weeks earlier

We packed our bags the same evening of Jamie's operation. I don't think any of us could stomach spending another night at the cottage, pretending this was still a holiday- and besides, the weekend was over. With Tuesday came school. School in itself already felt like a lifetime away.

Me and Mum drove homeward, the boot of the car stuffed with bags that were crazily and messily packed and thrown together in a space of three minutes. None of us spoke. I cried on and off during the ride, and though Mum had her back to me, I think she did too. Our box of tissues ran out within the first half hour. When we drove round the cliffs, the blue glinting bright and cold, I held my breath, my heart hammering in my chest. I had to squeeze my eyes shut. I was sure I was going to have another freak attack, right then and there in there, infront of Mum. I had told her, but I was still nervous of her actually seeing me melt down in person. I didn't like anyone seeing me when I lost control.

Home felt cold and unfamiliar when we arrived there. The last time I'd walked through that door, felt my toes sink into that carpet, I'd been happy and surrounded by my brothers. This time, it was me and Mum alone, and the house echoed with emptiness.

The McCartney boys were travelling in Harry's car, and would be here within the next ten minutes. They weren't leaving us. Not yet.

I hadn't had time to speak to Julian after I'd returned from the hospital, and I craved him, his warmth, his touch, his soft voice in my ear. I needed him, like a comfort blanket. More like a life support. I could feel every second when I wasn't with him pass as slowly as a year. But as much as I wanted to, I didn't have the energy to wait up for the boys to arrive home. I lay in bed, waiting for the rumble of Harry's engine in our drive, but within ten minutes I was out cold.

I had no dreams, at least not any that I remembered the next morning.

If I'd thought the day before was bad, that day was ten times worse.

I came downstairs to Mum sat at our kitchen table, Harry behind her in grey sweats and a white t-shirt. He was massaging her shoulders, and she was crying. There was a piece of paper covered in writing clutched in her hands, and Mrs Lacey was stood a few steps away, lips pressed together in a line, face grey. It was a contrast from her red-rimmed eyes. The Lacey sisters stood a few paces away from her, Mr Lacey with his arms around the older two. He looked tired. Sad.

Elena stood away from her parents and sisters. She looked...caved into herself. As if she had nowhere to hide, so she'd retreated into herself like a tortoise into it's shell. She was dressed in black leggings and an oversized grey hoodie with Harvard printed across the front in red. I recognised the hoodie as one of Jamie's. My heart ached.

Elena's hands were clasped over her belly, her head bent. Her hair was unbrushed and hung limply to her shoulders. She looked tired, and when she lifted her head as I entered, her eyes were red.

As I entered the kitchen, Leonie came over to me and hugged me hard. I felt too numb to hug her back. When she pulled away, she pushed a curl of my hair behind my ear, letting her hand rest on my cheek. Then she headed back to her father and sisters, and I was left hovering by the stairs, confusion all over my face.

The confusion didn't take long to clear up. The Lacey's were taking legal action. Against Jamie.

The document in Mum's hand had on it printed all the charges that could be filed against him. It turned out that what he had done to Elena at Ryan's party could be legally considered rape in two ways- firstly, she was underage, and secondly, consent cannot be given when the minor is drunk, so their alchohol-induced sex was considered forced- from Jamie onto Elena.