Текст книги "Berries and Greed"

Автор книги: Lily Mayne

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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 33 страниц)

Chapter Seven

Greid

Why did this humanoid skin sweat so fucking much?

I was drenched by the time I left the compound after arranging to come back for Beryl the next day and speaking to the high priest. I could tell Beryl thought I was a shitty liar—she’d told me as much—but I thought I’d done a pretty good job convincing the old man that I was very pleased with my “new mate”.

Not that I wasn’t, but it wasn’t like she was going to be my mate in any shape or form. Still, Beryl was… interesting.

I liked her red hair. And her green eyes.

And the little freckles covering almost every inch of her face, and the way her cheeks went bright pink when she scowled or felt uncomfortable.

And the fact that she’d been the only one there wearing even a splash of colour. I preferred my surroundings to be dark and sombre and soothing, but I liked colour. I liked the coloured gems I used for my jewellery. I liked bright things.

I’d also gotten a very strange tingly feeling when she’d scowled and glared and stood up to me as if I didn’t tower over her and couldn’t slice her open with my claws or tear her fragile human body limb from limb with barely any effort. Not that I wanted to do any of those things, but witnessing this little human square up to me like she was one hundred percent prepared to take me down—and was confident she’d win—had… done things to me.

Which, fucking hell, was not something I needed. This was a purely platonic arrangement that benefited us both. Her presence in my home would hopefully temper some of the pressing, miserable loneliness of my life, and in turn, I’d be giving her a safe way to explore the outside world. To get away from this fucked-up sex cult.

I’d made sure to reassure her several times that this was not a sexual arrangement, because it was true, but also because I didn’t want her to be scared or uncomfortable around me. I wouldn’t ever dream of pushing for something she didn’t want, even if I was maybe… kind of… interested.

You are such a sad little idiot, I thought viciously to myself as I finally reached the bottom of those fucking steps and started stomping toward my car, parked at the side of the huge public park that bisected the hill and the city. Latching onto the first person who… well, did the exact opposite of showing any interest. You’ve got issues, dude.

I cringed as I got into my car and chucked the unopened brown envelope the high priest had given me onto the passenger seat. Then I sat behind the wheel unmoving for long seconds. My gaze cut to the side, up the hill to the big beige building resting on its brow. I worried my lower lip with my teeth. Was I total creep? Had I coerced her into it somehow? Had she been too scared to say no? She hadn’t seemed the slightest bit scared, and I’d meant what I said—I’d bring her back or help her find

somewhere else to live if she hated living with me, whether that was after a day or a year.

My gut clenched as I imagined having Beryl in my home for that long. I wasn’t sure whether to feel excited or terrified. What if I hated it? What if the idea of a roommate, of having someone else rattling around my big empty house, was better left as nothing more than a yearning dream. What if the reality was complete horseshit?

What if she… I don’t know, marked her territory by pissing in the corners of rooms? Did humans do that? I had no idea what they got up to at home. Or what if she went through all my stuff and found my embarrassingly vast collection of shit I’d ordered from late-night infomercials? Or, oh my god, my sex toys?

She could even just rob me and vanish into the night with all my expensive jewellery. I didn’t get that feeling from her, but what the fuck did I know about humans? It wasn’t like I’d been around many of them outside of shuffling past them in supermarkets or standing behind them in line at coffee shops.

Fuck me, what had I done? I started sweating again as I sat in the stifling heat of my car, frozen in place with my hands gripping the steering wheel. I’d just invited a total stranger to live with me. I’d gotten distracted by her unique backstory and her stupid green eyes and round, freckled cheeks and curly red hair. Her big, slightly feral grin and blunt white teeth that would probably feel really good biting down on my—

Stop! I screamed to myself, viciously twisting the key and turning on the engine. I was just overwhelmed. I didn’t interact with humans much, and I just… needed to decompress. I needed to get back to my dark, empty house, smoke a fat joint and gorge myself on whatever leftovers were in the fridge.

It would be my last night to do it alone, I realised with a little jolt in my stomach as I drove away from the park. As of tomorrow, Beryl would be in my house—my private space—for the indeterminate future.

Oh god, I was going to have to seem at least half normal. I wouldn’t be able to shuffle around in nothing but my blanket onesie, standing in front of the open fridge in the wee hours, shovelling whatever I could find into my mouth, my brain hazy and loose from shade.

I’d have to keep my TV turned down low so she didn’t overhear the embarrassing shows I watched. I’d have to keep the bickering to a minimum whenever my mother or siblings called. I’d have to be really, really quiet when I masturbated.

Did I snore? Agma had never mentioned it, but I hadn’t ever asked. She had complained about how much I fidgeted in my sleep, my foot constantly twitching and kicking her in the leg. Not that Beryl and I would be sleeping anywhere near each other. I’d put her in a bedroom as far away from mine as possible, for both of our privacy.

My leg bounced anxiously as I made my way back into the city. But as I drove, I tried to take it all in through new eyes—the eyes of someone who’d only ever had fleeting glimpses of a normal life, who’d been looking in from the outside.

Would Beryl like it? Would she like the tall, cramped buildings and busy streets and all the people? Would she struggle to adjust, or effortlessly slide into a new life like the slippery, conniving creature I suspected she was? She’d gone almost her whole life flying under the radar at the cult, convincing them all she was as hungry for demiurgus loving as they were.

God, what a bunch of weirdos. I almost wished I had some demiurgus friends I could talk to about it—to tell them how fucking creepy it was to stand in front of a group of people who looked at you like you were some kind of god.

Except… Beryl hadn’t looked at me like that. Beryl had sneered and made it very fucking clear that she did not see me as some kind of sensual higher being with a magic dick. In that unsettling compound, it had been like a balm. Which maybe explained why I’d blurted out what I had while flustered and wildly uncomfortable.

But even out here, back in the real world, I realised I’d… liked it. She hadn’t been condescending or rude. She’d just treated me like a person. A person she wasn’t going to take any shit from or bow down to.

My gut tightened again as I pictured her flushed, round face glaring up at me, daring me to declare her my new human plaything and warning me with a single look of the painful consequences.

My pulse quickened, insides twisting with… something.

Okay, yeah. Maybe I had some issues.

The first thing I did when I got home was struggle out of the stifling suit and change into my true form, stretching out my back with a relieved sigh. Then I trudged into the kitchen to pick at some leftover fried chicken, tearing the meat off with my teeth before crunching down on the bone and gristle as I wandered through the first floor of my house.

I stopped in the living room and stared at all the stuff everywhere. There were sculptures and busts that Agma had left behind, but I liked the look of them, so I’d kept them. Framed artwork filled almost every available inch of wall space. Books were scattered around instead of being neatly shelved in the big bookcase that dominated one wall. Candlesticks and stained-glass lanterns stood on every surface, most of them surrounded by puddles of hardened wax.

I shuffled over the threadbare rug to the cluttered coffee table, sheepishly moving a mug I hadn’t used in recent memory off the haphazardly stacked pile of sketches. Picking them up, I rifled through them, wincing when I noticed the bottom one was dated twelve years ago. Fuck. Was I a slob? Would Beryl hate it?

I looked around the room with a critical eye. There was a lot of stuff, but it was at least clean and dust-free. I had a cleaner who came once a week—a cheerful young human guy called Tim who always eagerly made conversation whenever he actually spotted me, which wasn’t often. I usually hid in the rafters of my workshop in the attic with my earphones in while he was here.

Putting the sketches back down—I’d deal with them later—I heaved a sigh and picked up the mug, then moved to the little table beside the couch to grab the plate I’d left there last night. Shoving aside the blankets draped messily over the couch, I found another plate, this one with a hairline crack, and a spoon stuffed down the side of a cushion.

A congealing bowl of half-eaten cereal sat on one of the bookcase’s high shelves. Why had I put that there? I grabbed it, and the empty soda can tucked behind a lantern on the sideboard, and the overflowing ashtray resting on the lip of my enclosed blanket nest in the corner of the room.

Wasn’t Tim supposed to clean all this up? Wasn’t that what I paid him for? Surely I hadn’t made this much mess in less than a week. By the time I walked back into the kitchen, I was juggling an embarrassing amount of dirty crockery. After dumping it in the sink, I groaned in despair and morosely tugged open the dishwasher to put it all in there. Then I half-heartedly wiped all the crumbs off the kitchen counters and spent about five seconds scrubbing at an indeterminate stain on one of the cabinets before giving up.

Maybe I could ask Tim to come twice a week now that another person was going to be living here. Or, I guessed, I could just try and clean up after myself a bit better. It wasn’t that I was a dirty person, I just forgot. And then the mess just kind of… blended into the rest of my stuff.

But it wasn’t fair to make Beryl live in my filth. At least the air always smelled good, thanks to my addiction to scented candles. Taking the stairs three at a time, I went up to the third floor—the last one before my workshop in the attic—and retrieved some clean sheets from the hallway closet before pushing open one of the bedroom doors.

I felt kind of bad for Tim having to clean all these rooms that never got any use, but I paid him well and he never seemed to mind. At least it meant the dark wood dresser and vanity in here were polished. The gilded copper mirror and windows were smudge-free. The wall-mounted TV and heavy deep-green drapes weren’t coated in dust, and the rug, while faded with age, had been vacuumed.

I had no idea what Beryl liked, but this was the biggest room aside from my own, it had an ensuite, and it was furthest from my own bedroom on the first floor. I liked being close to the ground

while I slept. There was a basement, but it was too cold down there.

The bedframe was dark wood with a hand-carved headboard—vines and mushrooms and jutting shards of crystal all tangled together in a quintessential demiurgus design. The stained-glass lamps on the nightstands were demiurgus-made as well—bright, curved panes of emerald green, electric pink and deep gold swirling together, with a burnished gold base.

I chewed my lip as I stared at them, still clutching the fresh sheets in my hands. Maybe I should put some lamps in the living room as well. I preferred candlelight, and I could see well in the dark, so it didn’t bother me. But humans had shitty eyesight, didn’t they? If Beryl wanted to read or whatever in there, she’d need better light.

Trying to keep track of the growing list of stuff I had to do before her arrival, I hurriedly made the bed and carefully smoothed down the sheets. They were made of thick, warm fabric in a deep green to match the drapes—yes, I liked things to match—but I suddenly remembered those hideous shiny satin sheets at the compound. Did she prefer silky sheets? If so, I’d have to order some.

Should I order anything else for her? Like… bath stuff? I crossed the room and opened the bathroom door, flicking on the light. Black tiles gleamed under the spotlights, the big copper tub and fixtures the only splashes of colour in here. A single glass bottle rested in a recessed shelf by the tub, filled with ruby-red bubble bath. Okay, so she’d need shampoo or whatever. Unless she brought her own.

Noticing there were no towels in here, I hurried back into the hallway and grabbed several from the closet, as well as a stack of blankets. She might not want them, but I liked to pile about ten blankets on top of myself when I was relaxing, so I’d leave them for her just in case. After placing them neatly on the armchair by the window, I carried the towels into the bathroom and left them in a stack on top of the laundry hamper.

What else?

I wasn’t exactly dreading Beryl’s arrival, but I couldn’t really remember why I’d wanted to have someone live here with me so much. I was already stressed out, wondering if she would hate all the black walls and high ceilings and cluttered rooms. At least there wasn’t too much stuff in this bedroom—just some ornaments and fresh candles in intricate glass-and-metal holders and the demiurgus-made artwork on the walls, which might be unsettling to a human.

With a mental shrug, I loped out of the room. She could replace anything she didn’t like. She could paint the walls lime green if she wanted. It wasn’t like I’d ever be going in there.

Back downstairs, I went into my bedroom and winced at the absolute state of it, but it wasn’t like she’d ever be coming in here. Still, I hurriedly grabbed my vibrating cock sleeve—left carelessly on the unused side of the bed from, what, two days ago?—and stuffed it into the bottom drawer of my nightstand with the rest of my toys. Spotting my blanket onesie draped over the chest at the end of the bed—which had several other blankets spilling out of it—I tugged it over my head before yanking on my fluffy bootie slippers, designed to fit over big demiurgus feet.

I made a half-assed effort to tidy up my room a bit, straightening the covers so the bed looked kind of made, bundling up the clothes strewn about everywhere and shoving them into the bottom of the closet to deal with another time.

By the time I was done gathering up all the cups and plates and empty food packets, I was exhausted. This had been a weird-as-shit day. I felt mentally drained, and even though I’d gone to that creepy compound with the half-formed idea of finding a roommate, I didn’t want to waste my last night alone in my house stressing over what was coming tomorrow.

I needed to chill the fuck out so I wasn’t a nervous wreck when I went back to get Beryl. Flopping down onto my bed, I grabbed my tin of smoking stuff and the TV remote. But as I hunched over and rolled myself a joint, my eyes kept flicking over to my laptop resting innocently on the far nightstand, and the bottom drawer beneath it.

After sticking the joint between my lips, I huffed and rolled onto my belly to reach for my laptop. This was my last night to watch porn at max volume and turn my vibrator up to the highest setting, right? Might as well make the most of it.

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Chapter Eight

Beryl

“Beryl, for as long as I’ve been a part of our family, you have been a grounding presence in my life.”

As Moe began tearing up, his chin wobbling, I fought the urge to roll my eyes and instead pasted on a bland smile.

This was the fifth speech so far. To celebrate my last night in the commune and my impending matehood with Greid the Greater Being—I’d quietly snorted when the high priest called him that—I was being treated to a big “family” dinner. It always creeped me out when members called us a family, and not just because I’d fooled around with some of them in the past. Violet was my only family, and she was currently sitting beside me, ashen-faced, with an untouched plate of food in front of her.

I hadn’t had a chance to speak to her yet—to explain. God knew what she was thinking. Probably that Greid had coerced me or threatened me into agreeing to be his mate. She knew I’d never, ever willingly become the doting lover of a demiurgus.

As soon as Greid had left, I’d been surrounded by excited members eager to pamper me so I “looked my best” for his return the next day so that I could start my new life, my new calling, with glossy hair and baby-soft skin and a body waxed from head to toe.

I’d flat-out refused the wax, but I’d indulged them just enough to save face by letting Nancy fuss with my hair while Hannah—a twenty-nine-year-old cult member who’d exchanged her dream of becoming a lawyer for the dream of becoming a demiurgus’s mate—slathered a mask all over my face.

When I heard about what the cult members had given up to be here, it made me want to scream. You could’ve done anything, I wanted to yell at them. You had the whole world at your feet and you fucked it!

But I’d learned over my time here, as an observer of a unique subsect of humanity, that people had all kinds of reasons for giving up their lives to simply exist in this big compound on the top of a hill. Some of those reasons were fairly innocent on the surface—they’d been rescued from a burning building by a demiurgus, who were much stronger and faster than humans, when they were a kid, and ever since they’d basically hero-worshipped the species. Or they simply weren’t attracted to other humans and were only attracted to demiurgus, and they thought this was the best way to potentially get the partner they wanted.

Some people had come here after experiencing a midlife crisis, or when the pressures of the outside world got too much and they couldn’t cope—like Hannah. She’d once told me that she’d almost had a nervous breakdown at law school, and it had made her realise that it wasn’t what she wanted. That all she really wanted was a quiet life with the person she loved. And in her dream, that person happened to be a demiurgus.

I’d always wondered why the people here hadn’t just tried to meet demiurgus out in the real world, like in a bar or at the supermarket or at work, instead of going to the extreme of dedicating their entire lives to worshipping the creatures. But after speaking to Greid, I thought I understood it better. I’d already suspected that human-demiurgus relationships were super rare, but it seemed there was a good reason for that—the two species weren’t exactly compatible. And if demiurgus knew that, I doubted they often bothered to approach humans they were attracted to.

I realised I’d zoned out when everyone started clapping as Moe wrapped up his speech. As he sank back into his chair, dabbing at his eyes with a napkin, someone else stood up and took a breath. I slouched further into my seat, wishing I had something stronger than water to get me through this.

“Beryl,” Fatimah began, giving me a beaming, watery smile. “I can’t tell you how excited I am for you. And, yes, a little bit jealous.” She let out a delicate laugh as everyone around the table chuckled and murmured in agreement. I dutifully smiled.

“You are truly blessed, Beryl, and I can’t think of anyone who deserves it more,” Fatimah continued with a dreamy sigh. “You have been a faithful member of our family for years, and not once have you given up hope that you would one day be blessed with the love of a Greater. You’re an inspiration to all of us, and a shining example of how we shouldn’t lose faith. That love will come to all of us one day.”

As Fatimah sat down to a round of ‘hear hears’ from the others, my gut clenched with unease. I wasn’t all that keen on being a “shining example” of why they should all keep wasting their lives in this place. But as I glanced around the table at all the wistful faces, I realised there was probably very little that would cause them to give up their dream. That was how groups like this worked.

If I’d rejected Greid, or he’d rejected me, they’d already have reasons and excuses for why. He wasn’t your Greater. They are still out there, they’d say. Or, His mating instinct is in flux. He will return with a clearer head and find his true mate. These things cannot be forced.

And if I hated it—living with Greid, being in the outside world—to the point of actually wanting to come back here, they’d have reasons for that too. You must not have bettered yourself enough yet, Beryl. He will return for you when you are truly ready to be his mate.

I heaved a silent sigh when the high priest shuffled to his feet, clutching his glass of milk. At least that hopefully meant the speeches would be coming to an end soon. Everyone went quiet, waiting with hushed deference for him to speak.

“Beryl,” he began, eyes already filling up with tears. “My dear, I cannot tell you how proud I am of you. You came to us when you were just a child, and it has been a joy to watch you grow into a woman and dedicate your life to our cause. I was so afraid that we would have to watch you leave when you reached adulthood, that you would be lost, but you stayed.” He beamed at me. “You stayed, and now you receive your reward. A blissful life with your Greater. To our cherished Beryl!”

He held up his glass and everyone followed suit. I heard my aunt weakly mumble, “To Beryl,” beside me before she gulped down her water.

Now that the high priest had given the final word, everyone stood and started clearing their plates. I stared down at the remnants of my final dinner here—poached salmon with green beans and brown rice. It had been nice. Fine. All the food here was healthy and well-prepared and tasty enough, but I couldn’t help wondering what Greid would order us for dinner tomorrow night. I wanted the greasiest, fattiest takeout available. And ice cream. Did demiurgus like ice cream?

“I’ll help you pack, Beryl,” Aunt Violet said in a too-cheerful voice as we rose from our seats. She gripped my arm and hurried us out of the dining room before anyone else could stop me to gush over what a handsome, virile demiurgus Greid was.

“So tall!” Nancy had already sighed to me dreamily.

“His hair was beautiful,” Robbie had breathed with glazed eyes.

I mean, yeah, sure. Greid was tall. And he did have nice hair. But I had nice hair too. Why weren’t any of them saying how lucky he was to get me? I was a catch, damn it.

When we reached my room, I realised someone had already left luggage outside my door, and I cringed when I noticed the G + B stencilled in gold on the front. Christ, they worked fast. How the hell was I going to explain that to Greid tomorrow?

Violet stayed silent until the door was shut and locked behind her. Then she turned to me with a horrified look and hissed, “What the fuck, Beryl?”

“Okay, it’s not what it seems,” I whispered, glancing at the door before pulling her into the bathroom.

“Did he threaten you? Has he forced you to do this?”

“No,” I said immediately, feeling strangely protective of Greid already. “No, nothing like that. He didn’t come here for a human lover. He just wants a…” I shrugged. “A friend. A roommate.”

Violet stared at me hard. “And you believed him?”

I couldn’t help but glare at her. “You were the one saying earlier that some people just want companionship.”

“I know, but—” She rubbed her face. “—what if he gets you alone in his house and…”

“He won’t,” I said firmly, believing it wholeheartedly. Greid hadn’t seemed like that whatsoever. “If he had nefarious motives, we were alone in that room together for ages. He could’ve done whatever he wanted.”

“Beryl, I don’t like this,” Violet moaned, shoving a hand through her strawberry-blonde hair, sprinkled with grey. “You seriously agreed to move in with him to be his friend?”

“I get something out of it too,” I whispered. “A chance to finally leave. To experience normal things. Life. He’s offering me a safe place where I can actually go out into the real world and do things, Violet.”

She stared at me. “But… how do you know it’s safe?”

I shrugged. “Is it any less safe than if I left here with literally nothing to my name? No job, no place to live, no other family…”

“I…” Violet flushed and rubbed her cheek. “I’m sorry. If I’d known you wanted to leave… I tried to give you the best life I could—”

“I know you did,” I said gently, stepping closer to squeeze her arm. “And you kept me safe and warm and fed as a kid. I’ll always be grateful to you, Auntie. And it was my choice to stay here. No one forced me. I could’ve left at eighteen and tried to make it on my own then, but I just… didn’t. But now… now I think I want to.”

She gazed at me, guilt still tightening the skin around her eyes. “And you want to do it with the demiurgus?”

I winced, stepping back. “Not do it with him, not in that way, but… yeah. I kinda like him. He seems like a good guy. A bit of a loner, which is why I guess he came here, but not a bad person. He was…” I flushed. “He was kind to me. When we spoke. And he repeated several times that this wouldn’t be a sexual arrangement in any way. I don’t think he’s at all interested in humans like that.”

Violet’s shoulders slumped in relief. “Okay, that’s… that’s good. Not that—If you did find yourself wanting a demiurgus for a partner, there’s nothing wrong with that, Beryl. Don’t let what you’ve been surrounded by here taint your view of the demiurgus as a people. They’re just normal folk. They probably think this place is as weird as you and I do.”

“I know.” I chuckled. “Greid told me it creeped him the hell out.”

Violet finally cracked a smile, then sighed and looked down. “Sometimes I… Sometimes I wish we’d left when your dad brought you here. Gone out into the world so you could experience a normal childhood. But I was scared. Scared I wouldn’t be able to provide for you or I’d fall into my old ways. Scared I’d be a shitty parent. It wasn’t like I had any good examples to follow—my parents sucked, which you can probably tell from how your dad and I turned out.”

“Dad was an asshole, but you’re an amazing person, Violet,” I said defensively. “You were a great parent to me. You still are. I hate him for what he did, but I’m glad he left me here. I’m glad you were the one who raised me. Not him. Not my mother, wherever the fuck she is.”

Violet’s eyes glistened with tears as she hugged me tight. “I just hope I did right by you. If this is what you want, I support you, but please, please keep in touch with me so I know you’re safe. And if you hate it with him but don’t want to come back here, we’ll find a way. I can—I have a small pension saved. It should be enough to tide us over—”

“No.” I squeezed her before letting go. “I want to do this, Violet. I want to be brave. I can’t keep falling back into my safety net when things get difficult.”

My eyes were watering just like hers, so I swiped at them roughly. “Greid said he’d help me find a job. And if I don’t want to stay with him, I can save up to find my own place. And then if you wanted to leave, you could retire and live with me.”

She smiled, cheeks flushed and forehead splotchy from her tears, just like mine got. “It sounds crazy, but I’ll probably just stay here even when I retire. I do like it here. It’s peaceful. And easy. And it keeps me out of trouble.”

I nodded in understanding. Violet and her past boyfriend had been fairly heavy drug users, which was how she’d ended up in prison for theft—she’d been caught stealing stuff to fence for drug money. I knew she’d found peace here, so I didn’t judge her for wanting to stay. It was pretty peaceful, once you learned how to tune out all the fervent gushing about sexy demiurgus.

“I can’t believe I’m actually leaving.” I let out a nervous, slightly hysterical laugh and pressed a hand to my chest over my racing heart. “Tonight’s my last night here.”

She gave me a watery smile. “I’m happy for you, Beryl. But I’m going to miss you.”

I sniffed. “I’ll miss you too, Auntie. But I’ll come and visit. I’ll just make up some stuff about how amazing Greid’s magical dick is when the rest of them inevitably ask.”

She chuckled, then eyed me. “He got your medical record, right? He knows that even if he is interested that way, that kind of sex is off the table?”

My stomach squirmed with discomfort. “Yeah, he got it. He didn’t open it before he left, though.”

I’d been so desperate for him to see it before, thinking it would save me, but now the thought of him reading my private information felt horribly invasive. Which it absolutely was.

Something told me though, that Greid may not have opened that brown envelope. Or if he had, not realising what it was, he would have thrown it down in disgust. He seemed like an intensely private person, so hopefully that extended to respecting my privacy too.

I supposed I’d find out tomorrow. I’d find out a lot of things tomorrow. Like what a demiurgus home looked like. What it was like to sleep in the middle of a bustling city with constant noise, not up at the top of a hill with nothing but utter silence at night.

What it was like to eat whatever I wanted without having to guiltily hide snacks in my room. What alcohol tasted like. What it was like to get high.

What it was like to step out onto a busy street knowing I could go literally anywhere and do literally anything.

I wouldn’t have to exercise every single day if I didn’t want to—although I often ducked out of it here anyway. I would be able to eat whatever I wanted, not carefully portioned healthy meals with the optimum ratio of protein to carbs to fat. I could take up painting or cycling or cookery. I could do anything.

After saying goodnight to Violet and promising we would have a proper goodbye before I left tomorrow, I started packing up all my stuff in the embarrassing luggage. It didn’t take that long—after throwing my clothes into one, I neatly packed my skincare and bath products into the other, as well as the meagre collection of items hidden in my nightstand. An old gossip magazine, a notepad for doodling in, a crossword book for when I was really bored.