Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You will choke to death on your blood before you ever bleed out. Imagine it: how it will rise up in your throat, leaving you barely able to tilt your head to try and let it drip down your chin, fast at first but then slower, viscous; deep red and crimson and almost black. Picture the sound. Screaming, gurgling, then silent. Silent- apart from the laboured intake of breath, choked with bubbles of blood. Too much. Too much. You will choke, inhaling only blood, and it will coat your windpipe and mouth until all you can taste is metal and pain: pain is a taste- it is a smell; a sound; a sight; more than it is ever a feeling. 

You will choke to death.

But she didn’t.

She fell on her side, head catching on an arm thrown out in surprise and fear. This arm tilted her head, without her ever needing to force her muscles to move; to save her life.

She begged the other girl, in silent thoughts, to move just enough that she could lock eyes with her again. She couldn’t flick her irises or pupils to face her. Pain was her closing life.

Pain,

a slowly

fading

thought, in

dimming down

memories

of the present.

“S- 

sorry,”

The other girl looked over, clicking their eyelines together like a puzzle piece.

The other girl finally moved.

On the 20th of April 2012, Andie Bell was rushed into an ambulance.

Only her sister accompanied her.

Unfortunately, her father was busy.

——————-

“You should count yourself incredibly lucky, young lady. If you hadn’t fallen at the angle you did, you’d certainly be dead.”

The doctor was still talking, same as she’d been a quarter of an hour ago when she kicked Becca out of the room. If looking around too quickly didn’t make her crazily dizzy, Andie would’ve been rolling her eyes; looking anywhere except at her. But no , it just had to be a head injury. That meant after blood and pain came the vomiting, the confusion, dizziness, exhaustion; humiliation. And, worst of all, she only knew about any of that- from the vomit on the kitchen tiles to the light apparently fading from her eyes- because of Becca letting her know, through gritted teeth in this hospital bed. All the memories of that night were fuzzy, with gaping tears in the timeline- like they’d been blended, and some of the mixture got stuck to the sides of the container when it was poured back into her mind. 

She knew there was pain. There was always some kind of pain with her. She just couldn’t figure out a way to express it without sounding whiny or vulnerable, so she chose not to- Andie tried to be productive with it, or as much as she could.
No, she shouldn’t be thinking it over so much. She was hurting, sure. Having a serial killer for a dad did that sort of thing to you. But those kind of thoughts- the ones that made her realise, for a single, aching moment what a shitty situation this was, and how much she really just wanted everything to change- weren’t helpful in that moment. And it always had to be about that moment. The past was a lie, the future was undecided; the present was the only time she could focus on. Andie didn’t like to think of that as short-sighted. That only ever popped up to her brain in shivering, whispering thoughts, finally sobering after an evening or two, when the night was dark and encroaching towards her like monsters from the wardrobe. It had been a long time since Andie Bell was afraid of make-believe monsters. The real ones were scarier: not under the bed or at the bottom of the dark staircase where the lamp was switched off; but in her sitting room, and taking up the same portion of the bed as he always had. No, she didn’t like to think of that as short-sighted: it had been practical.

He still wasn’t there. She was sure they’d called, they must have called both of her parents a thousand times until one of them finally picked up. Her mum, the stench of alcohol clear from over the speaker. The sound of loud middle-aged chatter from the other side. Her dad wasn’t in that crowd- if he had, his loud voice would be over the top, dominating the conversation as he shouted just a little louder than was necessary. All these things she should’ve noticed before.

Urgh. It hurt to think.

It felt like her head had been split in two- which, according to the doctor, wasn’t too far off. Definite concussion, some other… stuff, which she hadn’t been paying any attention to but had probably been important. All she knew was she had the worst migraine ever and it was making words hard to understand. There was a thick blanket of feeling covering all of her senses, and she was not enjoying it.

“Andrea? Can you hear me?”

She blinked. “Uh, what was that?”

The doctor took a deep breath in, forcing her shoulders down so much it looked painful. “I was just asking if you were having any more trouble breathing.”

“Nope,” she took a long inhale, emphasising the rise of her chest, “not any more.” She then exhaled quickly, a very bad decision which sent her head spinning off to all four corners of the room. Reflexively, she went to touch the bandaged spot on the back of her head, releasing a split second before that poking it would only make it worse. It was a lesson she’d only needed to learn once. She groaned as the doctor frowned- she thought she was frowning, her vision was still swimming back to full clarity- and reached around for some kind of tool.

“Please don’t shine any more lights in my eyes, oh my God.”

Andie was certain that she was about to go off onto the same spiel she had the last time she’d tortured her already fried brain, about the importance of analysing pupil dilation in head trauma patients or something like that- but everything stopped short. It always did, when he entered a room.

Her dad was alone, apart from a frazzled-looking nurse accompanying him. It was nearly 1:30AM, visiting hours weren’t even close, but Jason Bell always seemed to get his way. 

“Andrea, your father is here for five minutes only. I understand sleep will be a top priority right now.” The nurse looked so timid, so small next to the other man. Andie hated that she was afraid all the time, now. Adding another thing to the list of things she hated. It wasn’t just fear for herself, her future- but for her mum and sister, for all the people her dad worked with; for Sal and his whole family, parents, brother and all. All of them were in danger as long as they stayed in this town. Her family was the epicentre of it. 

The two medical professionals retreated to behind a screen as her father approached her. The moment he was out of sight, the deep wrinkles of grief in his forehead lightened a touch, and the glimmer of fear and sadness receded a little. It would be imperceptible to anyone. Anyone except her. Not any more.

He sat in the cold chair next to her bed. “Andie. What happened? Tell me what happened.”

So good at faking concern.

“I…” She could blame Becca. To get herself out of trouble. But… but then Becca would tell them about the dealing, and those things she said. Out of everything to be completely lucid remembering, why did it have to be the things she shouted at Becca? There was a deep shame and guilt that festered beneath her skin whenever she thought of it. She was just trying to get her to stop prodding about the drugs, to shut up so she wouldn’t get in trouble and have her money confiscated, because that would strand her with him and she wouldn’t be able to move away with Sal, and that would kill her. She was looking at a short-term solution, and that was the only thing her bruised brain would let her think of. Something to get her quiet, maybe make her cry and run to her room like she’d done a few times before, so she could apologise or at least explain a half-truth in the morning. Whatever she thought could make what she said better, it slipped out of her brain the minute Becca’s hands were on her shoulders, shoving her.
She felt so fucking ashamed of herself. Out of all the horrible things she’d ever said to her little sister- from insults to flat-out bullying- this was what it took for her to finally snap.

Despite how fucking angry she was, a little voice whispered that she deserved it. She never listened to that voice. Except, now, the voice was a yelling pain in the back of her head, the consequences of thinking about the here and now with no plan and no regard for others. It hit her, as Becca calmly called the ambulance, staring into Andie’s bleary eyes the whole time, that mostly, she was angry at herself. 

There was only one thing she could say. As the start of a probably long list of things she would need to do.

“...I slipped on the kitchen floor.”

Her dad leant closer. “You randomly fell over and got a head injury so severe the hospital has to blow up both my and your mother’s phones, claiming you’re in critical condition?”

“I was wearing socks. My head must’ve hit the ground first. It was late, too.” Like I know how head injuries work, she wanted to add, but she held her tongue.

“Look me in the eyes and promise me it was just an accident. You were wearing socks. ”

She didn’t gulp, gulping made you look guilty. She looked him dead in the eyes, hoping she showed no weakness. Maybe he could smell fear. “I tripped and fell. Becca was doing something in the kitchen too- grabbing a drink maybe, I don’t remember much- and she called the ambulance.”

He nodded. She couldn’t tell if he believed her. 

 ————————— 

She threw the black biro down, flinching as it landed with a too-loud crack on the floor. Her untouched geography work sat lamely on the desk in front of her, the pictures of rivers or coastal drift or whatever it was glaring back up at her in all their grainy, monochromatic glory. It was so unfair that she still had to do work while she recovered. No matter how many times she tried to read the words on the page, they kept drifting off in different directions, and her vision would unfocus randomly. She couldn’t work like this. Groaning, she stood up. All Andie wanted to do was tear the booklet in two and shove it in the bin. There was no way she was completing it anyway, so what would that matter? But, then again- if she did that, her dad would probably print off twenty copies on the big work printers, and sit by her as she did them all consecutively. 

She groaned again.

So, instead of taking out her anger on the defenceless paper, she stooped to grab the pen, bringing both it and the homework book to the sofa, placing herself down stretched out, with her head propped up on several pillows. She cracked her knuckles impatiently as she waited for her new phone to load. Such a nice house, with all the newest technology- and they couldn’t afford non-shitty wi-fi? She knew for a fact that it wasn’t the concussion making that seem messed up. It was bad enough that she’d had to go a whole day without any technology at all, something about the light being bad for her concussion or whatever, and they couldn’t even find her phone anyway; but now that she finally got her hands on a new phone and was logged into all her accounts, it wouldn’t even load! She wanted to claw her eyes out.
Nevermind. Victory was in sight. Google was right there, and the answer sheet was only a few letters away. Why did she even take geography? It wasn’t like she was ever going to need it, she didn’t want to be a geography teacher or whatever else people with geography A-levels did; she just needed a grade, preferably one that wasn’t an F. So what if she looked up a couple of answers? She was just compensating for a traumatic brain injury. 

“What are you doing?”

Her finger stopped a millimetre from the link. Andie whipped her head around, almost retching from the sudden movement. Becca was there in the doorway, backpack falling from one shoulder. Was it four o’clock already? She hadn’t been able to sleep well since the injury, time was like sand flowing through her fingers at this point. She wanted to bite something back at her. There was something in Becca’s stance though, that was just a little too… not frightening, Andie couldn’t be truly scared of her little sister if she tried. But… she knew now, what Becca could be driven to by her words. She also knew what Becca had been through, partially because of her and her need to get out of the town. There was something in her stance, maybe, that warned her who held the power now.

She bit the inside of her cheek. “I’m doing geography work.” Yeah, very convincing. 

“On the sofa, on your phone, without the booklet even open?” Becca was closer now, standing over her. She hated how her skin crawled involuntarily at her withering glare.

“Yeah. Have to find some sources.” She rolled her eyes, but it felt forced. Becca leaned over her, disregarding her attempts to hide her phone. “Hey! What are you doing?”

She hummed. “You get to the source by searching… ‘answers geog aqa 2010 past sample paper 1’?”

Andie didn’t respond, but she did plaster a scowl over her face. 

Becca perched herself on the arm of the sofa, crossing her arms over. She didn’t even need to tell Andie what they were going to talk about. From that look, she knew. She sighed.

“Andie. Look at me.”

She pulled her eyeline up to meet Becca’s, remembering with a pang the inverse, just three days ago. What if she never made eye contact, that day? She knew. The nurse told her it was the angle she fell that saved her, but Andie knew that wasn’t fully true. Even though Becca nearly killed her, she saved her life in the same breath. Another thing she hated: being so, unstoppably indebted to somebody.

“Listen, Andie. We need to talk. Because even though I feel like shit for what almost happened- I hope you feel like shit too. I hope your bruises hurt, if nothing else. Okay? That wasn’t okay, and you need to know that. I hope you never forget it.”

Yeah, she deserved that. “I’m- I’m sorry for Sunday night, Becca.” and yes, her bruises down her spine and neck hurt like a bitch.

“That’s not enough! It’s not enough, Andie; you have to know that’s not enough.”

“Yeah, okay- I’m sorry for selling drugs, too, I should’ve thought about what they would be used for-” Becca raised her eyebrows and leaned forwards slightly, “-and I’m sorry for getting mad at you all those times, like at the calamities-”

Her younger sister sighed, “I wish I didn’t have to coax these apologies out of you, seriously.”

What else could she say without revealing the truth? Becca couldn’t know about Dad, she couldn’t. She couldn’t cope with it like Andie could, she would crack under the stress in ten minutes. Not that she wasn’t cracking herself, but she wouldn’t put Becca through that, too. 

“I… Becca, one day I promise this will make sense- but I was doing what I had to. I’ve been doing bad things, I know-” images in her mind, of little paper bags, and Elliot, and Sal so angry with her he wasn’t even speaking to her. “-but, please, I-” she swallowed. “I’ll figure out another way. I have to find another way. I didn’t think my decisions were hurting anyone, not like that- but, please, Becca-” she composed herself, taking in a deep breath, “please believe me when I say I’m sorry. I shouldn’t’ve said… what I did, that night, even if I already had one concussion. I was being short-sighted . You just couldn’t tell Dad. You still can’t. That’s the one thing that can never, ever happen.”

Becca was silent, for a moment. What was there to say? Andie never let herself be this vulnerable, not even to Sal. Never. Then, in a quiet voice, almost a whisper, she said: “Why shouldn’t I tell Dad? After everything you said, why should I believe you’re sorry?”

“I guess you can’t. I wouldn’t believe me.”

Her eyes widened in shock. But, before Becca could make a sound, Andie continued. “But I am telling the truth. I can’t convince you, fine. But I am sorry, I am telling the truth and I am one-hundred percent serious that you can’t tell anyone about the drugs. I’ll lose everything.”

“ I lost everything, Andie! For so long, I lost myself! I was so, so alone, for months ! You don’t understand, you still don’t- don’t you know what that does to a person?” She threw her head into her hands, almost scratching her forehead with the tension of her frustration. 

“Okay, maybe I don’t- but I could try to! And I promise you this one thing:” she took a long, guttering breath, and a step off a cliff she knew she couldn’t come back from, “I’ll stop dealing. I’ll stop completely. I’ll never touch another drug in my life, not as long as I live. I swear. I’ll fix things. I’ll fix it. Becca, please, just don’t tell anyone. I’ll fix it.”

That expression on Becca’s face was completely unreadable. Her muscles were completely still, lips slightly parted, eyes forever stuck right to the centre of Andie’s. She shuffled back a little on instinct. 

The younger one sighed, throwing her hands down to her sides. “Fine! Fine. I still don’t forgive you- but I won’t tell anyone, as long as you absolutely promise that you will fix your shitty behaviour. I’m not putting up with this anymore. One slip-up, and I’m telling Dad everything.”

That was as good as she could get. “I promise.”

Standing, Becca looked down at her older sister. She turned and walked, slowly at first but then quicker, almost breaking into a run, up the stairs. 

Andie sat in silence, geography homework just as unstarted as before.

“I’ll fix things, I promise.”

 ————————— 

Group iMessage >> The galsssssss gc

- ChloChlo : OMG, have u seen the news? X

- Emms : no, what is it? X

- ChloChlo : A girls just turned up dead pretty nearby :shocked_face: 

- Emms : OMG thats crazy! X

- ChloChlo  : apparently it might be the same guy who killed those other women
- ChloChlo : stay safe out there gals xx

Andie Bell switched off the TV, hand shaking in fury, biting the inside of her cheek so hard she tasted her own blood, again.

Tara Yates: murdered by the DT Killer on the 20th of April.

Unfortunately, her father was busy.

Chapter Text

“Right or left?”

Andie hummed, lifting her chin from the palm of her hands to stare at the junction. “Left.” She squinted at the road signs from her dirty passenger side window. The indicator blinked on. Becca jerked the steering wheel harshly, letting out a sharp huff of air.

“Why does it have to be a grimy little street?” she muttered. Andie watched as she eyed the little black and white plaque: Romer Close . 

She scoffed. “What, did you expect there to be five-star mansions around here or something?”

“I don’t know, I guess I just expected a literal drug dealer to have enough cash to-”

Andie interrupted her with a quick hand over Becca’s mouth and a hiss. “Shut up, Becca! What if someone hears us?”

Slapping her hand away, she glared at her. “Your windows are up, nobody can hear us.”

Andie rolled her eyes. The real world would eat her sister alive. “That’s what you think,” she started, ignoring Becca’s protests, “but, for all you know, somebody’s just around that corner, and now they have the perfect blackmail for mugging us.”

Eyes widening, Becca paused for a moment. The car, now stationary, fell silent. Then, so quietly it was like her voice was being blown away in the wind, she whispered: “Has that ever happened to you before?”

“No.” Andie slammed the car door, punctuating her sentence and restarting her headache with a too-loud thud .

Her feet followed the path like it was muscle memory. It should be, by this point- she’d walked this way enough times. She winced as she heard the crunch of some glass shards beneath her feet, hoping Becca- in her anxiousness- had enough sense to watch where she was stepping. Andie was too far in for that, she couldn’t make herself look so- so unconfident right now. She did check Becca was still following though, and not looking too suspicious. Her sister’s hunched walk, almost completely folded in on herself like that, was probably as good as she was going to get. Shivering, Andie pulled her bag inwards like she was cold. It was a mild mid-April day, logically. But, even so, she couldn’t stop the goosebumps that ran over her arms as she approached the house. Paint was peeling off the corners of the front door like it longed to get away, too.

She said it like a breath. “But you can never be too sure…”

“What was that?” Becca had moved until she was only just behind her.

She shook her head. “Nothing. No, nothing. Now, where are you gonna wait?”

“Uhh,” she raised her shoulders, as if to say, duh, “in there with you?”

“Not a chance.”

If looks could kill, she would be dead twenty times over since Friday night. “I only came so I could hold you to your word, Andie. I’m coming in with you.”

“No, you are not- ” She gestured constrainedly, frantically, “-you can’t. It’s not-”

“Either I go with you, or I turn that car around and leave.”

Deafening silence. 

She had the audacity to smile . “Good.

“You’d better hope you’re better at explaining to him than you are to me .” She pushed past her, and before she could do a single thing, she knocked three times on the centre of the door.

Before she even realised that she was hearing the muffled sounds of shuffling from behind the door, Andie had pushed her way in front of Becca. She stared blankly forwards, focusing on steadying her facial expression- not on the thick coating of sweat on her palms, or the sting where the wind hit the little exposed patch of skin on the back of her head, or how her bag suddenly felt ten tonnes; weighed down. 

“Hello?”

She looked up at him, meeting his muted grey eyes. A smile was forced onto her face, staying small and fake regardless of how hard she tried to stay calm. Quietly, she hoped he would stay looking impatiently at her, and not stray his eyes just a little behind her, to spot her younger sister. Just for a few more seconds.

“Hi, Howie.”

He raised a straight eyebrow. “Andie, you’ve got the wrong day, you shouldn’t be here for another week, at least.” God, it was 11am, how did he already reek of cigarette smoke? His gaze drifted from her, and she braced herself. Even through her clenched teeth and gently shut eyelids, she could feel his glare on her face. “Why, the fuck , are there two of you?”

She heard Becca take in a little gasp of breath, like she was plunged in ice water. “Well, that’s what we need to discuss. It’s why I’m here. Now, if you just move and let us in-”

“Hang on, hang on-” He laughed a little breathlessly, “-why would I let her in? You still haven’t explained yourself, missy.”

She felt a flash of indignance at the refusal and the condescending name, and felt the pinch of a struggle to keep it off her face. “She’s my little sister, I know I’ve mentioned her. Now, let us in!”

“ Shut up- listen here, you have no right to go yelling about here at this time of day.” His eyes darkened as he scanned the empty streets to either side. “But come in, quickly then. And leave her outside.”

Andie was halfway through the door before he finished his sentence, but she continued through anyway, only smiling at him as Becca followed her through. She ignored her hypocrisy. 

“Becca stays.”

Howie spluttered angrily, but didn’t actually move to shut his door until both Bell siblings had found their way into the cramped hallway. Andie led Becca into the sitting room, resisting the urge to reach back her hand and drag her along, like when they were kids. Not anymore. 

The man lowered himself onto one sofa, Andie took the opposite, cringing as the cracked faux leather crinkled beneath her. Becca stood between her sister’s seat and the open door, and the older girl leaned slightly to the side, shielding her a little.

He was the first to break the silence. “So, what is it? Recruiting another one of you to my business then? You’ll end up a crime family, I swear.” He laughed darkly at his own joke. Andie only shifted. It was uncomfortable, how almost right he was. 

“No.” She said, simply.

“Oh?” He smirked. “Just couldn’t get off babysitting duty then? If you needed more stuff for our clients then, by all means-”

She shook her head firmly. “Not at all. Actually,” She reached inside her handbag, retrieving three plastic bags and two phones, “it’s the opposite.”

There was a vein in his neck threatening to spring out, she could just tell. “What? What the fuck are you giving me these back for? Answer me, Andie.”

“I quit. ” She flicked her tongue on the t , letting the clicking sound hang in the air. Leaning forward in her seat, resting her chin in her fingers, there was a lightness that probably shouldn’t be there yet. This was not a good step in her escape plan- in fact, it set her back a long way- but there was no other way to keep her relationship with Becca intact. And there was not a chance in hell that she was ever letting her little sister stay in their house without herself as the buffer. 

A dark red colour was creeping fast up Howie’s neck and face. “The fuck you do, you quit . You quit when I tell you you do.”

“No, I quit.”

“Now- what the fuck gave you the impression that you could quit, sweetheart?” That little high-pitched drone to his voice gave off the impression of danger, she was sure of that; Becca was shifting uncomfortably behind her; she wasn’t giving in . 

“Well, for starters: I’ve given you back everything I still had on me. That’s a good amount of rohypnol and weed in that bag alone. And, on that topic,” She took a deep breath, ignoring how the stench of mould attacked the back of her throat as she did, “I realised the other day, pretty forcefully- ” she glanced sidewards at Becca, “-the effects of selling shit like rohypnol to whoever. I have to say, not too happy with them.”

A strangled laugh escaped his throat. “What, finally mustered up a conscience? Don’t worry, you’ll grow out of it. You just sell the shit, you don’t fucking worry about how they use it , hm?” That last part was practically nothing more than a growl. Howie looked less human by the minute, his eyes bulging impossibly outwards, skin beet-red, bony hands with their dirty nails clenched like claws at his side. 

“That’s the thing, Howie. I don’t think I can afford to grow out of it. Not if I want to keep my head.”

Her heart dropped as he bent his eyes towards Becca. Teeth practically bared, he spat, “If she’s blackmailing you, just say so. I can deal with that-”

“ No! ” Andie leapt to her feet, placing herself firmly in between Becca and Howie. Her sister let out a little squeak of fear; the first noise she’d made since entering the house. “I gave you the drugs, I gave you the phones, just fucking let us leave!”

He stood up now too, his slow rise somehow infinitely more terrifying than anything she could do. “Not so fast. That shit was mine anyway. How about my money? I can’t have you keeping it now, can I? You need to pay me back for everything I’ve given you.”

Everything since February 2011? Yeah, right.

Pulling a thin stack of crumpled notes from her bag, she chucked them onto the pile on the table. “There. That’s all I still have.”

He sighed. “Nowhere near enough, Andie.”

“I don’t fucking care, let us leave.” She spat the words at his feet. 

He took a single step towards them. Her fight or flight kicked into overdrive. 

Before she knew what was even happening she was yelling at Becca, her subconscious finally picking the latter of the two for the first time in years; she was screaming so loud she couldn’t see, she missed the door handle the first time and scraped a few futile marks into the wood of the door before finally grasping it and turning it, thankful it was still unlocked; but where was Becca, was Becca with her, had Becca followed her- Becca was halfway down the hall still, a wrist caught in Howie’s hand, and he was pulling her back, and Andie didn’t even think twice before socking him squarely on the chin, a fake fingernail dragging deeply down his skin, flaking off a little painfully but it didn’t matter: Andie was grabbing Becca’s other wrist and yanking her free, and they were free, she was free , they were down and out of his driveway, running hard before he even managed to reach his front door. 

She didn’t realise she was laughing wildly until the car was in sight, but Becca was too. Now that she thought of it, they were both making far too much noise and if themselves from twenty minutes ago saw them they’d probably have an aneurism. But she couldn’t stop now, not until they were in the car. 

Andie numbly let go of Becca’s wrist and she wrenched the car door open, running around to the passenger side herself and slamming the door behind her. 

“ Oh my god, ” the younger one laughed breathily, “oh my god!”

She shook her head frantically, “Not yet, drive, drive, drive. ”

——————-

The field was normally one of her and Sal’s hidden places. He’d shown it to her after only one or two weeks of dating, seeming so genuinely excited for her to watch the sun set behind the distant rolling hills, how the trees that lined the bottom of the field framed the sun perfectly if you just watched it from the right angle. She scoffed, then, at the thought that he was trying to make an old-fashioned romantic out of her. 

Now, the way there the only directions she could even think of telling Becca to take, she had a moment to reflect that he might have been right about some of it.

It was barely midday, not exactly sunset, but her eyes still wandered to the spot he’d shown her. 

“That’s where it’s the most beautiful, normally.”

“Seriously?”

“You can’t even imagine it, Andie. It looks like a dream. This whole place- it’s like this tiny corner of the world is coated in gold.”

She blushed at the memory.

“Andie, I have a serious question.” Becca finally talked in a voice louder than a whisper, with a suddenness that made Andie jump.

“Shoot.”

She took a deep breath, “Why did you not just… I don’t know… get a normal job? The local shop is always hiring.”

“Yeah, what does that say about them? ” she bit out. But then she paused. Maybe she could afford this one, tiny fraction of the truth. “Plus, you know what Dad’s like. He’d say it’s unladylike, and anyway I’ll-”

“ -Marry a rich husband anyway. ” They both finished in unison. Becca held back a laugh, finally turning to look at her sister. Both girls sat on the roof of the car, and had until that point been staring straight ahead, mildly avoiding the other’s gaze. “God, he’s so behind the times. I wish- I wish I could stand up to him like you do. I just shrink away.”

Andie said nothing. 

If she knew anything about her father’s greatest hates, and she was certain she did, she could guess what got Julia and Tara and the others murdered. She was also certain that, if she were anyone else’s daughter, she would be killed for less than she’d done already- It was only that tenuous, brittle string of blood connecting them that kept her face from the local news. A tragedy; they would definitely call it that. But he would still walk free. No matter what words they pinned it with. Men like him always walked free, she’d come to realise.  

Her hands were shaking.

——————-

Monday, 30th of April 2012

Andie scratched over the letters in that date a thousand times, until the coloured-in centres of the o s and 0 s pushed through to the other side of the page, leaving a faint mark on the table. It would probably wash off, but even if it didn’t, it wasn’t her problem. The rest of her page was blank. Maybe there had been notes to take, but she’d been a little preoccupied, in all honesty, with trying to craft the perfect apology. Something that had actually taken up the whole lesson, because her apology skills were, still, lacking. Mostly in the explanations department, like Becca had pointed out.

But this wasn’t for her sister, this time. 

It was hard trying to nonchalantly bump into Sal, especially since they memorised each other’s timetables the same week they got back to school, after the holidays in which they’d started dating. There was an early January air then, with a chill that seemed to stick information like that into her head forever. They’d paired up the lessons in the same blocks, even highlighted with lovehearts in neon pink the free periods they shared. That was why she had to find a way to catch him in the halls: pencilled in on the sheet of paper, above ‘ 10am-11:30am, Drama’ , was ‘→ Sal: history’ . 

And somehow, the thought of even seeing Elliot again was enough to nearly make her vomit. 

Thankfully for her, though, Max Hastings had a very loud laugh.
It was one of those things that always annoyed her without ever really thinking about it. It felt forced almost, like he was trying to be overpowering on purpose so that everyone else would laugh with him, since they couldn’t be heard talking anyway. She never had a reason to put it into words before, but now, knowing what he’d done, she would find any reason to hate him more. It was the least she could do.

Andie straightened her posture, pushed back her shoulders, and marched in the direction of Sal’s group.

It was easy to spot him, once she knew the general location. He was a head taller than everyone- bar Max, but that excuse for a human flattened his hair down with a mountain of wax anyway- so she saw the top of his black curls peeking up above everyone before the rest of his figure even registered to her. But then the rest of him came into focus, and she felt a tiny part of her soften, just a little. It was like an ache at the back of her eyes relaxed all of a sudden, without her ever realising it was tense.

Mustering up the remainder of her confident facade, she called out. “Sal!”

His head turned instantly, finding her in a flash- but then he paused, and glanced back to his friends. He looked stuck between two actions, half-turned to face her, half-trying to ignore her entirely. A flash of doubt rippled through her. If he didn’t even give her a chance to talk, would she ever be able to make things right between them? That option didn’t even occur to her. Should it have? Her eyebrows furrowed, and her focus dropped.
Maybe that sudden uncertainty was all she needed to convince him. He was already moving towards her, through a crowd of people, slipping quietly away from the conversation. She shouldn't've worried; Sal would always be there. 

“Andie-” there was a hint of shock in his eyes, she realised, “Andie, what do you want?”
And it was gone, like a light turned off. Now this was just slightly awkward. 

“We need to talk, and I figured you wouldn’t want to in front of your friends.” she said simply.

Sal shook his head. “I already said, I’m not talking to you until you stop. You know that.”

No, he couldn’t walk away. “I did.” she struggled to get the words out, suddenly breathless. “I did, yesterday- now, come on, talk .” She stared into his eyes, so different to the flat grey of Howie’s, or the empty darkness of her father’s, or even the searching, wanting depths of Elliot’s. Sal was so, so different to all of them. His eyes were warm, like the heat radiating off a bonfire as you stand just out of range of the stray sparks. They invited you in until, all of a sudden, ripping yourself away from them may as well be ripping your own soul out. For supposedly the ‘most common eye colour’, Andie had never seen anything like his brown eyes. Like that kindness.

His mouth gaped for a second. A fondness filled her, and she allowed herself a small smile; the first genuine one all day. 

Sal sighed, tilting his head to one side. “Fine. Not here, though.”

Andie outright refused to go anywhere near Elliot’s classroom. 

“Why not? He’s a great teacher, and he’s Naomi’s dad. He won’t think twice about us being in his classroom without him.”

“Because I said no, Sal. We are finding somewhere else, or I am not explaining anything to you.”

Eventually, they found another deserted room in school. It was a long-disused darkroom, back from when Kilton Grammar used to do photography A-level. Now, years on from the last time that class had run, It was just another one of the school's nooks and crannies, perfect for hidden conversations. 

“So,” Sal started.

“So. I stopped. One-hundred percent, fully completely stopped. I don’t deal anymore. Not even, like, one weed.” She cracked her knuckles anxiously. Their pops, one by one, calmed her a little. 

He sighed. “Andie, why don’t I believe you?”

“What, you think I’m watching mine and Becca’s backs since yesterday for fun, now?”

“No no, I mean- wait, Becca too?” his eyes widened, startled. 

She just rolled hers. “No, she just came with me, to hold me to my word.” Her eyebrows shot up at his incredulous expression. “If you don’t believe me, ask her. If she can bring herself to squeak out two words about it, she’ll agree with me.”

“Okay, say I believe you,” he shuffled back to perch on one of the sides lining the room, wincing as it creaked a little under his weight, “and I really do want to believe you, Andie. Actually, I think I do believe you; I think you’re being sincere.”

“So what’s the issue? Why do you look so upset?” She did what he asked, there was no reason for him to still be frowning at her. 

“Andie… You still haven’t explained a thing, or apologised, or- or anything. You can’t just expect to be welcomed back with open arms. What you did hurt me. And others, I’m sure.”

Apologised? How had she hurt him, nobody he really cared about was affected by what she did, why did he care?
The question must have been obvious on her face, because Sal made another face at her. 

“You dealing drugs to teenagers isn’t even the half of it. You definitely know that drugs can ruin people’s lives-” it was hard to keep from rolling her eyes there again, it really was, “-but also, the money you charged for it! Andie, this could go on your criminal record, imagine if you were caught! And you bought me things with that money too! Can’t you see this implicates, like, everyone in a ten mile radius of us?”

Sal was gesturing widely, almost smacking his hands into the shelves above him, and there was guilt in her chest that hadn’t been there five minutes ago.

She reached for the square adhesive bandage on the back of her head, the urge to peel it off stronger than ever. Maybe if she proved that she felt pain too, he’d leave her alone about this. 

“So you just have no answer?”

“No, I just- urgh, my head is aching.” Her hand stopped an inch before the bandage. She really didn’t want to put another one on, the specialised ones took forever. “Sal, I just needed money, I wasn’t thinking that deeply. I’m sorry to you for buying you things, and I’m sorry to everyone who got hurt because of me, okay?”

He nodded, closing his eyes. She approached him carefully, like he might run at any second. Her hand drifted towards his. He took it hesitantly, hovering for just a second before linking their fingers. His skin was smooth and soft. In that silent second, she studied him again. He could’ve been asleep, his expression was so blank now- apart from the slight fluttering of his eyelashes. Always deep in thought. Slowly, she moved her face closer, until she could feel his breath on her. 

“Sal,” she whispered.

He opened his eyes and stared at her, not moving a muscle. She made another move, pushing herself up to her tiptoes, until they were eye-level. Her head tilted and she leaned forwards again, expecting to meet him halfway.

Instead, he shuffled further back on the countertop, letting her hand fall from his.

“No, Andie. I’m not ready for that yet.”

Andie took a step back, a flush rising in her cheeks. “What do you mean? We’re dating, why can’t I kiss you?”

“I…” Sal took in a deep breath, forlornly avoiding her eyeline. “Andie, I really, really care about you. But I still need time to recover from this.”

“What? I apologised, I stopped! What else do you want from me?” What the fuck? What more did she need to give up before she could have him back? 

“This is about trust. You broke my trust, and now we need to build it back up again. That’s all, Andie. Honestly.” He laughed, finally looking at her. “I don’t think I could keep away from you for much longer. But you’re already on eggshells. Don’t push it, please. I don’t want to have to stop with you, really. Don’t force me too.”

And, on that crushing note, Sal got up and walked past her. He gave her one last look before he left. “Andie… Thank you for stopping. You are a good person. Don’t forget it.”

A good person?

What kind of good person dealt to teenagers, just to earn cash? What sort of good person sold the very same drugs used to rape her little sister? And what sort of good person didn’t immediately kill that man?
What sort of good person knew her dad was a serial murderer, and still held her tongue? 

——————-

Becca was not as understanding of her as Andie hoped.

“Seriously? You are awful at explaining yourself, you know that?”

She wanted to claw her own eyes out. “Yeah, I know. You've only mentioned it one or two thousand times.”

“But, like,” her sister took a sip from the straw in her coke can, “why would you expect him to forgive you straight away? This shit takes time.”

“It was trust , though! How have I hurt his trust, huh?” It literally didn’t affect him, why was he acting like she’d lied to him? He never asked, she never told.

“ Andie. You sold stuff behind his back, knowing he despises that kind of thing. And you’re his girlfriend . How does that not affect him?”

Oh. She knew that, in the back of her head, obviously. But had it never occurred that he might be angry over that ? Maybe the concussion was worse than the doctors thought.

“Listen. You lost both of our trust. Now you just have to build it back up, that’s it. Prove yourself.”

That’s right, she just had to fix it.

And find a way to ruin Max Hastings’s life in the process.