steady herself, pulling herself to
standing.
Either her hangover had reached brain-tumour proportions or
she was going mad, but right now she didn’t have time to focus on that. All
that mattered was that Marie was safe. A sickening sense of dread crawled over
her skin but she prayed, again and again, that this was just an
overreaction. Just because Marie’s phone was off didn’t mean she was in
trouble. It could all be in her head.
Yes, that was it, Raegan told herself. She was probably
overreacting and she just needed to see Marie in person to reassure
herself. After lunch she would go to her house. Marie was probably
hungover and probably hadn’t even charged her phone yet! Yes, that sounded like
something her friend would do. The fact that so much of her logic relied on the
word ‘probably’ was deliberately ignored. Raegan forced a smile; in the mirror
it looked as false as the Cheshire Cat’s grin.
Everything would be fine.
Chapter
Five: Shards
I’m going mad.
The thought reverberated in Raegan’s head as she walked.
What sane person decided to spend her birthday chasing after
a friend who was probably just dying of a hangover somewhere? What sane person
turned up at said friend’s house and her place of work? And what sane
person, after getting no answer at either property, decided to go into the
woods?
‘And not just any woods,’ she muttered to herself, crunching
her way over damp leaves and uneven soil. ‘Creepy old Lydgale
Forest. The one Bridey tells ghost stories about. Plus it’s raining.
Plus Con and Bridey don’t actually even know where you are. Great plan.’
And now you’re talking to yourself, the little voice in her
head cautioned. Also a sign of insanity.
But it wasn’t madness driving her on. It wasn’t some kind of
latent alcohol poisoning. It wasn’t even fear. No, after she’d come down to
earth and some food and normal conversation with her grandparents had eased the
panic, it seemed to dawn on Raegan that Marie’s voicemail was probably just the
product of a drunken night out. True, she had sounded scared, and true, the
thought of Marie alone in the woods at night sent a shiver down Raegan’s spine
– but the chance of anything happening beyond that was incredibly remote. Her
friend was much more likely to be sleeping it off than in any kind of trouble.
Also true was that guilt, for Raegan, was even stronger than
fear. And she couldn’t get rid of the crushing feeling that if she hadn’t left
Mojo’s, hadn’t believed Christian when he said Marie had gone without her, this
would never have happened. It was her fault Marie had been left alone with
those two guys in the first place.
If anything had happened to Marie it was all her fault. Even
if the chances were slim that was the truth: there was no denying it.
Which is why – despite the angry storm clouds over head and
random drops of rain falling from a dusky sky; despite the fact that it was the
evening of her sixteenth birthday; and despite the fact that her grandfather
had grounded her – Raegan now found herself poking around the depressing,
derelict old building known as the Shack.
Why anyone would want to party here was beyond her, she
thought, kicking aside old beer cans as she trudged around the open plan room
at the bottom of the house. Old, damp mattresses, a few items of clothing –
nothing she recognised from Marie, thank god – and wine bottles lay alongside
old cigarette butts and something that looked suspiciously like a used condom.
Gross.
After twenty minutes of searching she had seen everything
there was to see; which was a good thing, as she didn’t think she could put up
with the smell for much longer. Still, she was glad she came. It was a relief
to see the place with her own eyes, to know that there was nothing in the Shack
to suggest that Marie had ever even been here. She shrugged. What she was
expecting to find, she didn’t know, but Marie’s voicemail made her worry
standing.
Either her hangover had reached brain-tumour proportions or
she was going mad, but right now she didn’t have time to focus on that. All
that mattered was that Marie was safe. A sickening sense of dread crawled over
her skin but she prayed, again and again, that this was just an
overreaction. Just because Marie’s phone was off didn’t mean she was in
trouble. It could all be in her head.
Yes, that was it, Raegan told herself. She was probably
overreacting and she just needed to see Marie in person to reassure
herself. After lunch she would go to her house. Marie was probably
hungover and probably hadn’t even charged her phone yet! Yes, that sounded like
something her friend would do. The fact that so much of her logic relied on the
word ‘probably’ was deliberately ignored. Raegan forced a smile; in the mirror
it looked as false as the Cheshire Cat’s grin.
Everything would be fine.
Chapter
Five: Shards
I’m going mad.
The thought reverberated in Raegan’s head as she walked.
What sane person decided to spend her birthday chasing after
a friend who was probably just dying of a hangover somewhere? What sane person
turned up at said friend’s house and her place of work? And what sane
person, after getting no answer at either property, decided to go into the
woods?
‘And not just any woods,’ she muttered to herself, crunching
her way over damp leaves and uneven soil. ‘Creepy old Lydgale
Forest. The one Bridey tells ghost stories about. Plus it’s raining.
Plus Con and Bridey don’t actually even know where you are. Great plan.’
And now you’re talking to yourself, the little voice in her
head cautioned. Also a sign of insanity.
But it wasn’t madness driving her on. It wasn’t some kind of
latent alcohol poisoning. It wasn’t even fear. No, after she’d come down to
earth and some food and normal conversation with her grandparents had eased the
panic, it seemed to dawn on Raegan that Marie’s voicemail was probably just the
product of a drunken night out. True, she had sounded scared, and true, the
thought of Marie alone in the woods at night sent a shiver down Raegan’s spine
– but the chance of anything happening beyond that was incredibly remote. Her
friend was much more likely to be sleeping it off than in any kind of trouble.
Also true was that guilt, for Raegan, was even stronger than
fear. And she couldn’t get rid of the crushing feeling that if she hadn’t left
Mojo’s, hadn’t believed Christian when he said Marie had gone without her, this
would never have happened. It was her fault Marie had been left alone with
those two guys in the first place.
If anything had happened to Marie it was all her fault. Even
if the chances were slim that was the truth: there was no denying it.
Which is why – despite the angry storm clouds over head and
random drops of rain falling from a dusky sky; despite the fact that it was the
evening of her sixteenth birthday; and despite the fact that her grandfather
had grounded her – Raegan now found herself poking around the depressing,
derelict old building known as the Shack.
Why anyone would want to party here was beyond her, she
thought, kicking aside old beer cans as she trudged around the open plan room
at the bottom of the house. Old, damp mattresses, a few items of clothing –
nothing she recognised from Marie, thank god – and wine bottles lay alongside
old cigarette butts and something that looked suspiciously like a used condom.
Gross.
After twenty minutes of searching she had seen everything
there was to see; which was a good thing, as she didn’t think she could put up
with the smell for much longer. Still, she was glad she came. It was a relief
to see the place with her own eyes, to know that there was nothing in the Shack
to suggest that Marie had ever even been here. She shrugged. What she was
expecting to find, she didn’t know, but Marie’s voicemail made her worry
Similar Books
