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Chapters (50)
  1. Cover
  2. VIOLET
  3. VIOLET
  4. Dedication
  5. Epigraph
  6. Contents
  7. Prologue
  8. 1
  9. 2
  10. 3
  11. 4
  12. 5
  13. 6
  14. 7
  15. 8
  16. 9
  17. 10
  18. 11
  19. 12
  20. 13
  21. 14
  22. 15
  23. 16
  24. 17
  25. 18
  26. 19
  27. 20
  28. 21
  29. 22
  30. 23
  31. 24
  32. 25
  33. 26
  34. 27
  35. 28
  36. 29
  37. 30
  38. 31
  39. 32
  40. 33
  41. 34
  42. 35
  43. 36
  44. 37
  45. 38
  46. 39
  47. Epilogue
  48. Acknowledgements
  49. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  50. Copyright

He’s still looking at me with that mixture of fear, confusion and revulsion as I take a final step forwards and push him hard in the chest. It’s so quick, I don’t think he even remembers to scream. I lean over the wall and peer down, but it’s too far away for me to see what’s down there. Too far, even, for me to notice anything other than the heavy liquid slap as his body lands on the concrete.

It’s his own fault. If he’d even been slightly pleased to see me, he might’ve lived.

I was ready to front it out, walk back to the glass stairs and through the sleazy party, but I notice that further along there are a couple of steps up and over the wall, leading to the fire escape.

This has all been less satisfying than I’d hoped.

Ignoring the sounds of grunts and moans behind me, it’s clear that no one has noticed what just happened, so I take the opportunity and climb over the wall and onto the iron fire escape beneath. It’s a lot of floors, but I figure that no one’s going to be looking for me just yet.

I take my phone out of my bag and open up Facebook, clicking ‘unfollow’ on Sam’s profile, then I start to make my way down the stairs, barely noticing the descent because my body is so pumped full of adrenaline that I am both shaking and numb.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Hi

Mum says you’re on some retreat thing and you might not get this. Don’t know if you’re planning on coming home this year, but just in case you are, I’m getting married. Fancy being a bridesmaid? *GRIN*

Rx

P.S. Don’t take the piss. Be happy for me!

37

I sleep like I am dead. And when I wake, it takes me a moment to work out where I am. My head is fuzzy, but not from alcohol. I felt like this in Russia, too, after it happened. After all of those things happened. My first instinct is to aim for oblivion again, but it’s starting to wear thin, even for me. It’s temporary, at best, and when it goes, I’m back to where I started. There’s another option, of course – a more permanent one. But I’m not sure if I am ready for that.