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CHAPTER 20

Author: Almasie
last update Last Updated: 2024-10-29 19:42:56

I'd never been special. Not once.

I'd been told I was, but only by those who couldn't look me in the eye as they hurt me. They stroked my hair and told me I was special, that I was a good girl, that I was the most beautiful thing they had ever seen and then they covered my eyes from it all, as if covering my eyes would make a difference. As if covering my eyes numbed the pain. As if covering my eyes would make me believe them.

But I never did, because I knew I wasn't special. I knew .

Being Davey's top girl had made other people think I was special, but I'd never believed that either. I just took another pill, snorted another line and smiled as I covered my own eyes.

That Ethan could believe there was anything remotely remarkable about me was insane. I was a nobody. Nothing. But he was looking at me like no one ever had, like he was seeing beyond the façade, beyond the Casey Brogan that everyone else saw and he wasn't just seeing the layers of dirt and filth underneath.
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    With my hands braced against the side of the sink unit, I knew Ethan was behind me without even looking around. I wasn't going to turn, even though every hair on my neck was practically begging me to.'You forgot my bowl,' he said.'Wash it yourself.' I turned off the hot tap and gave it a blast of cold water. 'You must be used to it by now.'I stiffened as he appeared at my side and dropped his bowl into the water. Turning off the tap, he grabbed my wrist before I could plunge my hands into the sink and pulled me out of the way, taking my place at the basin. I took a step back, folding my arms across my chest and leant against the wall, watching as he scrubbed at the bowls and cutlery with a sponge.Struggling to equate this idea of him as a demon with someone who also washed his own dishes, I let my eyes wander, taking in the dingy, narrow room. It reminded me of the same type of kitchen often found in social housing, something I was quite used to having grown up in a

  • Her Worst Nightmare   CHAPTER 22

    When the laughter burst out I couldn't stop it and weirdly, I didn't even want to try.I laughed so bloody hard that I ended up with a stitch in my side and had to sit down, as the pain jabbed at my ribs and made it difficult to breathe, but I didn't care. If it was madness to laugh, it was a good kind of madness and one that I needed. It was a brief descent into an insanity that felt like cutting up a storm on the dancefloor, experiencing those first moments of hedonistic pleasure as the buzz fired sparks of heat into your veins.'Okay, now I know you're high,' I said, as I struggled to compose myself. 'Or maybe I still am. Is that it? Am I on one big fuck-off never-ending trip? I need to know what the Hell was in that fix I got from Leon, because this is the freakiest, most insane, completely unreal thing I've ever heard, and you know what, I've heard some proper crazy things recently.'Ethan's stony glare didn't waiver and I wondered if he practiced that convincing-as-fu

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    'Why is that even funny?''Because, humans wouldn't know the truth if it hit them in the face like a tsunami,' he said. 'Truth is nothing but fiction, told by the greatest storytellers this world has ever known. Of course, they were also the best liars, but that's the real secret to great story-telling, isn't it? Possessing the ability to make people believe you. Stories become truths so powerful that people forget that the tale itself was so fantastical, it couldn't possibly have been real. Serpents and apples. Building a massive boat full to the brim with every species of animal known to man. Five thousand people turning up to your dinner party when you only have five loaves of bread and two fish. And you want me to tell you the truth? I wouldn't even know where to start. I gave up believing in any kind of truth this world has to offer a long time ago.''Then tell me the real truth. Your truth, not the fiction.'He snorted, nostrils flaring. 'I've already told you far mor

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    When I was eight years old, my mother, Maggie Brogan, gave me a gift.I found out later that it had actually belonged to Claire and she'd left it behind when her Dad had gained custody of her, but to me, it didn't matter that it was a second-hand gift. My Mum had given me a present. An actual present. It was the only one she ever gave to me.It was a small, cream-coloured hardback book called Tropical Birds by Clive Roots . It was an ex-library book, the official stamp of Hackney Central Library just inside the front cover and a SOLD stamp underneath it in faded red. A clearly unloved book from the very few date stamps on the borrowing record, it had been sold for just twenty pence, whether to Claire or to someone else who then gifted it to her, I never knew. All I knew is that I loved it for two reasons.The first reason was because when Mum had given it to me, she'd been sober. One brief, totally coherent conversation where she'd awarded me a ghost of a smile and touched

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    'I thought you were going to knock,' I said, as Ethan went to open the door.'Trust me, I did,' he replied. 'He knows we're here.'The music ballooned outwards as he opened the door, Britney Spears' I'm A Slave 4 U, and I walked into the club to see a routine I'd seen the girls do many times before, a tacky dance involving fake rubbery pythons that spent more time being rubbed between slick thighs than they did being hung over shoulders as per the Britney video. The décor was the same tasteless gaudy style it had always been – lots of red velvet, leopard print and satin, pock-marked with stains I didn't even want to think about. The whole place still stank of booze, baby oil and cigar smoke, because Oscar never gave a shit about the smoking ban and smoked wherever the fuck he wanted in his own gaff.I even recognised a couple of the girls, who had perfected the art of looking like they were getting off on the thrill of showing their tits while dancing with a rubber snake, p

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    He sniffed, turning on his heels and walking over to behind the bar, where he fetched himself a glass and poured a large measure from the same bottle that Rosier was drinking from.'It's a shame really,' he said with a shrug that told me it wasn't quite the shame he said it was. 'But I'm not really left with any choice. If I had a choice, I'd keep you around, not in that get-up, mind you, but I'd keep you with me, really I would.''Which means what exactly?''It means, Casey sweetheart, that I've got to get you off my patch. Remember what I told you about being a liability? Well, turns out you're a bigger liability than I thought. I can't so much as turn around without bumping into one of those bastard Angels and I need them gone, which means I need you gone.'Oscar put the glass down and leant on the bar.'What do you reckon, Ros?'Rosier, who had been sizing me up like I was a prize cattle at the market the whole time Oscar had been talking, shrugged, his interes

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    I stared at it, biting the skin around the edge of my fingernail.'Up yours, Oscar,' I whispered. 'I'm going to respect the fuck out of this.'I poured myself a large measure. Larger still. Drank. Relished the heat.It wasn't going to be enough. Four hundred pounds a bottle and it wasn't worth shit to me. Not while the bassline pounded so strongly in my ears, not while the blood rushed to my head in waves so powerful that I wanted to drop to my knees and let myself drown in it all, let it take me under and hold me there until it filled my nose, my mouth, my throat.Groaning, I pressed my head against the side of the cabinet and twisted so I could see the desk, the glass still clutched into my chest like a life-jacket I knew was never going to save me.The door to the office clicked open suddenly, making me jump and I turned violently towards it to see Ethan standing in the doorway.I froze, perfecting my rabbit in headlights look as the guilt choked me.He smirk

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    'You know something?' he said, almost bitterly. 'Every hour with you seems to bring a new revelation. For someone who's spent much of the past few years high as a kite, you don't miss the detail in anything, do you?'I bristled at his words. 'You know, your self-imposed exile has left you needing to work on your people-skills. Maybe you could take a training course or something? Pretty sure the local college will have something right up your street.'I slammed the bottle back down on the table-top harder than I'd meant to. It juddered, rolling on its base and began to topple, but just as my hand went to reach for it, I felt the air move, like the gentlest of breezes and the bottle stopped on an impossible slant, suspended in its fall.My gaze whipped towards Ethan, who was still hunched over the table, except now one of his hands was pointing palm outwards towards the bottle. With one small flick of his fingers, he pushed the bottle back into its upright position on the tab

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    'Ethan,' I whispered urgently. 'I can't do what you asked. I don't know how.'He pulled me close again, smiling as he trailed the backs of his fingers of his now-blackened hand down my cheek. 'Just let go, Casey. Trust your instincts. Trust yourself. You can do this.'I swallowed my fear and nodded, still unsure that I could do what he wanted, still sure that his faith in me was misguided.'Oscar, look after Addi.' Ethan gestured to Addi, who was standing behind us all, still staring wide-eyed up at the Archangels as if hypnotised. I couldn't blame him. Even with their terrifying wings of fire, they were still dazzling to the eye. They were rising up into the air now, retreating towards their forces, the screech of the Cherubim heralding their return.Oscar's nose wrinkled as if he didn't much like his appointed role as Addi's guardian. 'And what exactly are you going to do?' he said to Ethan.'I'm going to do just what I promised.' Ethan turned back, direct

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    'You are sure?' Blake said.The sound of his voice popped in my ears, like a bubble of pressure bursting, pain stabbing in my eardrums and down into my throat.My throat .Something was in my throat.I gagged and coughed up water. I watched, dazed, my eyes barely half-open as it trickled away of its own accord, sliding over the monochrome tiles until it reached an ever-shifting stream of water that I could see stretching round behind Ethan.My cheek was damp, pressed against the floor and a lock of wet hair hung over my eyes. A tiny drop of water slid down the lock and grew fat, hanging there, before finally dropping to the floor and that tiny droplet moved of its own volition and joined the moving stream, like an ant, seeking the protection of its colony.My clothes felt heavy and stuck to my skin. I shivered and tried to focus. Ethan was positioned just as I'd remembered, before the water had come, only now his bound hands were in his lap again and hi

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