Thirty Days: Part One (33 page)

The pink curtains that hung in the room I grew up in swayed, catching my attention as fresh air blew in through the open window. Everything in my room was pink. It was my favourite colour for so long. That was until Dad died. Now I loathed it. Standing from the bed with the box tightly clutched in my hand, I stomped to those curtains and removed the wooden rod from the hooks before throwing it to the floor. They no longer obscured my view of the neighbours’ rose garden. Yellow roses stood tall on their stalks, and I stared, glad they weren’t fucking pink, too. Opening the lid for a second time and removing the necklace, the chain slipped around my fingers and the ‘A’ swung like a pendulum clock, only with an uneven tick. “Thank you, Daddy,” I whispered before putting it on. “I love you.”

The door to the bedroom opened timidly. I stood waiting.

“Marcus,” I cried out, running into his arms. “You’re back.”

“Abigail, I told you I’d come today. You’ve been crying again.” His eyes were soft as he pulled my head against his chest and kissed the top of my forehead.

“Did you get much information today?” I asked, unsure if it was right to ask such a question in the first place.

“Some. This is killing my parents and me. We just want them to catch the bastard.”

“They will. You have to believe they will.”

“Victoria didn’t deserve to die like that.” His grief was unbearable. “I still can’t believe she’s gone.”

“No one deserves to die like that, Marcus.”

“If only I didn’t have to go back to Brisbane that day. If only I’d stayed on the Coast, then maybe she’d still be alive.”

Pulling myself from his embrace, I gazed into eyes full of despair and injustice. “You wouldn’t have changed the outcome. You couldn’t have. If I’ve learnt anything over these last couple of weeks, it’s that bad things happen to good people. I’m so sorry she’s gone.”

Marcus held back tears that I wished he’d release. “I know you are, just as I’m sorry you’ve lost your dad. Don’t you think it’s strange that we both lost the ones we loved so dearly on the same day?”

“It’s beyond bizarre, that’s for sure.”

Fate.

“For some reason I think Victoria brought you to me that day, Abigail. She made me take that highway. I think she knew our broken hearts would be best shared. I like to think of it that way. It’s the only thing that helps. After all, if I hadn’t been on that road, I would’ve never met you, and she’d still be gone. I’d be lost without you, Abigail. You’re forever mine now. I’ll never leave you. I’ll keep you safe.”

“Ditto,” I replied.

Jerking awake, I suck air into my lungs. “Another memory.” I’m shocked with how real it felt. Marcus’ sister died the same day as my dad. We were on a highway.
“You’re lucky to be alive,”
Marcus said when I remembered us talking in the hospital.
“If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I would have never believed it.”
But what did he see?
If Dad died on the highway, it had to have been a car accident. Why wasn’t I hurt if I was with him?

“Somebody just tell me, for fuck’s sake,” I whine, waking Sammy.

Her crystal blue eyes blink erratically at first, but they soon open wide, and she stares blankly for a minute or so. “What’s wrong?” Her throat sounds strained when she finally speaks.

“Another memory.”

“A good one?”

“Confusing…scary…still unclear.”

“What was it?” She pulls herself up onto her elbows.

“The necklace. But in my dream it seemed as if Dad had bought it, not Marcus. Well, I believed it was him.”

Sammy smiles wide. “For a few weeks you did. Marcus wanted you to think your dad had given it to you. He said when you showed him after you found it, you seemed almost proud that your dad had left something behind, like a parting treasure.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It was only when Mrs. M gave you a present on your birthday and explained it was also your graduation present, as it was so costly, that you figured out it was a gift from Marcus. It was also the first time you knew it was inscribed.”

“Marcus showed me.”

“He did.”

“Sammy. I got my gold jewellery box for my eighteen birthday. I love that jewellery box.”

“I know you do.”

Laying my head back down on the pillow, Sammy follows suit. Turning inwards, we face each other and lie there silently. The room darkens as the afternoon sun prepares to set, but there’s still plenty of light left for us to see.

“Marcus said remembering would be painful. How painful?”

“I think that will depend on you. But to block someone out to the extent you have, I can see why he thinks it will be.”

“Did I love him?” I croak.

“More than life itself. You truly did.”

Processing these words is difficult, because the only man I’ve ever loved was Mike, and I gifted him my heart. He chose to break it in the end. I wonder if Marcus would have done the same, if given the time.

“What are you thinking, Dorothy?”

“Everything, yet nothing.”

“Oh.”

“How’s your headache?”

“It’s gone. No crashing, thudding, and grinding happening now. It was super mild in comparison to the ones I’ve been getting. Now I’m just tired.”

“How long have you been getting them for this time?”

“About five months,” she groans, rolling her eyes.

“I’m causing them, aren’t I? Too much stress.”

“Maybe. But you’re worth a stupid headache, if it is.”

“You know you’re supposed to say I’m not the cause, right?”

“Probably. But I’m not a doctor, so diagnosis is not my forte.”

“Shut up, Ginger,” I scoff, slapping at her thigh.

Sammy half laughs in return. “Time to get up,” she says, tapping my thigh playfully before clambering from the bed.

“Ginger,” I call out before she leaves the room.

“Yes, Dorothy.”

“Lend me a casual shirt, will you…I’m over dressy clothes.”

“I’ll go grab my bag. I’m sure I’ll have something for you.”

“It needs to go with my dark washed jeans,” I shout as she walks through the doorway of the room.

“Righto.”

I hear her giggle.

When It Rains It Storms

A dark green T-shirt with the word Guess written in diamantes is the perfect accompaniment to my jeans.
I’m so stealing this from Ginger.
Taking a moment to tie my light locks back into a messy high knot, I stare at my reflection in the heart-shaped mirror. I actually look the most rested I have in months, which is a pleasant surprise given what’s been going on here. Maybe Sydney is just a better shade of lifestyle on me. Who am I kidding? It’s probably my new stolen shirt giving me a fake sense of new.

Making my way down the stairs, I hear voices coming from outside. It’s not long until I’m standing on wet grass face to face with Marcus.

“You’re back,” I blink rapidly in surprise. “The grass is wet,” I grumble.

“Jackson said you were having a nap with Sammy, so I thought it best to leave you.”

Looking Marcus up and down, I notice he’s no longer wearing a suit. Instead, he’s donning beige cargo pants and a pale yellow polo shirt.

“Thank you for letting me sleep.”

“Where’s Sammy?” Jackson asks with a furrowed brow.

“Taking a shower. She won’t be long.”

“Is she feeling better?” Marcus interrupts.

“Much,” I reply, wondering how long he’s been back. “Hang on, wouldn’t you have seen her when she grabbed her bag, Mosby?”

“No.” He shrugs. “I’ve been outside shooting the breeze with Marcus for a while now. Well, since it stopped raining, that is.”

“Raining?”

“Yes. It pelted cats and dogs after you went up to the room.”

“Oh. Okay, that explains the wet grass. I might get some shoes.”

“Shoes. You don’t need shoes. It’s not that wet, sooky la la,” Mosby taunts.

“Excuse me, Marcus,” a sweet voice calls out from behind me.

“Lucy,” he calls back, leaving our company immediately.

Turning around, I see him jog the short distance, and although I can’t see this Lucy at first, I can tell he cares for her by his protective stance.

“Who the fuck is Lucy?” I huff.

“Marcus’ friend. She seems really nice. I met her like maybe twenty minutes ago. She just went to freshen up, said it had been a long drive.”

Keeping my eyes firmly planted in their direction, I wait for a glimpse of Lucy. A hint of red material flows past Marcus’ side before a curvy woman with light long hair comes into view.

“You want to hear something weird?” Mosby continues.

“Hmmm.” I’m only half paying attention.

“She has the same unique eyes as you. I guess they aren’t as rare as I thought. Actually, come to think of it, she looks a little bit like you. Her face is rounder, though, and her—”

“She’s fatter.”

“Abs,” Jackson tuts.

“Well, she is, look at her. What the actual fuck is she doing here?” I guess Marcus did replace me. Even worse, with someone who looks like me.
Liar
.

“I’m not sure.”

Holding hands, they smile adoringly at each other.
I’m going to spew.
This Lucy leans in and whispers something. Marcus seems to whisper something in return as they stroll towards us.

My hands become tight fists in anger.

“Abigail, I’d like for you to meet my friend Lucy.”

Lucy removes her hand from his grip and reaches it out for me to shake. “It’s nice to meet you, Abigail.” Her skin is pale and her hand is soft when it touches mine.

“Lucy.” One word is all I can manage. The name of the tramp that Marcus must love now.
I hate Lucy.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” The loud boom of Sammy’s angry voice ploughs in our direction. “Marcus, what in God’s name are you playing at? Why is Lucy here? Get her away from Abi now,” she snarls before standing between me and Marcus’ no longer secret lover.

“Sammy, settle down. Think before you speak. Abigail doesn’t know.”

“Know what? That you lied and you never waited like you claimed, and this whore is your significant other? Wasn’t hard to figure out. Do you think I’m stupid? Why would you do this to me? You’re an arsehole, Marcus,” I snark before stomping around Sammy’s protective body.

“She’s not with me,” Marcus replies.

“Let me go,” I scream, possessed as he grasps my arm, preventing me from my getaway.

“Abigail, stop. Look at her.”

“I did. She’s a fatter and uglier version of me. Bravo, arse wipe, your sick twisted fucking plan worked. You got what you wanted. Let me guess, you wanted to fuck the real thing and now that you have, you show pony this tramp in front of me.”

“Stop, Abigail. Just stop. It’s not what is happening here. It’s not.”

“Do you think I’m blind?”

“Lucy is your sister.” Sammy’s tone is almost regretful as the words leave her lips.

“My sister? What are you talking about? I don’t have a sister.”

“Yes. You do. Lucy is your half-sister, your father’s daughter. You forgot her after you had your accident.”

My mouth falls open as bile rises up into my throat, burning my mouth. Pushing my head forward, I vomit what little food is left in my stomach from breakfast. Marcus doesn’t let me go. His other hand rubs my back.

“She’s your sister,” Marcus whispers from above me.

Standing upright, I begin to suffocate with everybody huddling around. “Let me go,” I snarl at Marcus, and the need to kick him square in his balls is strong.

“Don’t run,” he begs before he frees me.

“Sammy.” My lip quivers as our eyes connect.

“It’s true, Abigail. You met her the night of your father’s death, at the hospital. It’s where you were going that day. You were going to Brisbane to meet Lucy for the first time with your dad.”

“He cheated on us. On me and Mum.”