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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

I am in Siberia! Well done on the job. I am totally ditching mine when I get back. Life is too short for boring offices and that freak Danny who keeps bringing me peeled oranges with his fingerprints dented into the flesh. He is OBVIOUSLY a serial killer trying to perfect his knife work (and he has a long way to go). Of course you can borrow the dress, my darling sister who has never ruined any of my clothes, ever (I assume you have already worn it – IT IS DRY CLEAN ONLY).

Cxx

P.S. I will bring you back one of those big hairy Russian hats with the ear flaps. You and Marcus can share it.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: RE: Freeeeee

I am trying so hard to be normal right now. Somehow I have managed to email Rosie and my parents and not sound like I am on the tail end of an epic bender, but Rosie probably knows even if I write two sentences. She’s probably on the phone to Mum now, telling her they need to book me into rehab. So much crap is swirling around my head, Loz. It’s like my brain has expanded, and all the memories I’ve kept locked up have pushed their way back to the surface and now they won’t go away.

I keep thinking about school and all the stupid things we did. That I did. Do you remember when that new boy started in P7? I think his name was Keith, or Kevin or Keegan. Something like that. But remember when we all chased him in the playground, and the boys battered him and we threw stones at him until he cried? I can’t believe we did that, Loz. I think about it all the time, and I think about where he is now, and I hope he’s got a good, successful life and I hope he never thinks about that day and how we bullied him for no reason at all, other than he was new. Why are children so cruel? I don’t think I’m cruel now, but I don’t know.

I still need to tell you about Greg.

My head really hurts, and I’m shaking now. I’m fucked, Loz. I’m still coming down from that weird tea shit, and whatever it was that we smoked … and the vodka and the pills I took on the train. I’ve drunk four coffees but it’s not helped. I just need something to take the edge off.

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