I stop, my mouth dry and my palms sweaty as I hurriedly slide my shoes off and sprint the last couple of hundred metres to the hotel, shoving my key into the outside lock and tumbling through the doors into the dimly lit reception. I sink into a chair there, the night receptionist glancing towards me with a frown, and a few minutes later the door creaks open and Amanda walks in, looking decidedly cooler than I do.

‘Amanda.’ I get to my feet, my shoes dangling from one hand, phone in the other.

‘Emily. Are you OK?’ Amanda raises an eyebrow. ‘You look a bit… hot?’

‘Sorry, I got freaked out. You didn’t see anyone out there, did you?’

‘No?’ Amanda looks at me questioningly. ‘Em, are you sure you’re OK? You look ever so pale. I didn’t see anyone out there, not even you.’

‘Right. Sorry. I think I must have been imagining things. Too much booze.’ I am unable to raise anything more than a thin smile and I gesture towards the lifts. ‘I’m going to go up, if you don’t mind. I’m exhausted now.’

I walk slowly towards the lifts, feeling like an idiot. There was no one out there, Amanda said so. There was no dark shadow chasing me. I give a little laugh as I get out of the lift and reach my room, sliding my key into the lock as my phone buzzes. It’s probably Rupert, I think, he’d asked me to text when I was back at the hotel to let him know I was all right. But when I look at the screen it’s an unknown number. I swallow, an inexplicable ripple of fear running through me. I haven’t had anything since the letter calling me a bitch, and Amanda said herself there was no one following me just now, so why do I feel so apprehensive about opening the text message? Maybe it’s Sadie, texting from one of the other’s phones – she said she was almost out of battery earlier. I’m being ridiculous, I think, but when I open the text message there is a photo. Me, in the dim light of the streetlamps, looking across the street with fear etched into my features, one hand gripping the ‘bride’ sash that lays across my shoulder. There is one word under the photograph.

BITCH.

I give a cry of horror, my hand flying to my mouth, before I jab a finger at the delete button, erasing my image for good.

Chapter Eleven