Out of the window I can see the boats carrying the wedding guests to the island, still distant dark shapes out on the water but moving ever closer. It will all be happening soon. I’m supposed to be getting ready, and God knows I’ve been up since early. I woke with this ache in my chest and a throbbing head, and took myself outside to get some air. But now I’m sitting here in my room in my bra and pants. I can’t bring myself to get changed yet, into that dress. I found a little crimson stain on the pale silk where the small cut I’d made on my thigh must have bled a bit yesterday when I was trying it on. Thank God Jules didn’t notice. She really might have lost her shit at that. I’ve scrubbed it in the sink down the hall with some cold water and soap. It’s nearly all come out, thank God. Just a tiny darker pink patch was left, as a reminder.
It made me remember the blood, all those months ago. I hadn’t known there would be so much. I shut my eyes. But I can see it there, beneath my eyelids.
I glance out of the window again, think about all those people arriving.
I’ve been feeling claustrophobic in this place since we arrived, feeling like there’s no escape, nowhere to run to … but it’s going to get so much worse today. In less than an hour, Jules will call for me and then I’ll have to walk down the aisle in front of her, with everyone looking at us. And then all the people – family, strangers – who I’ll have to talk to. I don’t think I can do it. Suddenly I feel like I can’t breathe.
I think about how the only time I’ve felt a bit better, since I’ve been here, was last night in the cave, talking with Hannah. I haven’t been able to speak to anyone else the way I did with her: not my mates, not anyone. I don’t know what it was about her. I guess it was because she
seemed like an odd one out, like she was trying to hide from everything too.
I could go and find Hannah. I could talk to her now, I think. Tell her the rest. Get it all out into the open. The thought of it makes me feel dizzy, sick. But maybe I’d feel better too, in a way – less like I can’t get any air into my lungs.
My hands shake as I pull on my jeans and my jumper. If I tell her, there’ll be no taking it back. But I think I’ve made up my mind. I think I have to do it, before I go totally mental.
I creep out of my room. My heart feels like it’s moved up into my throat, beating so hard I can hardly swallow. I tiptoe through the dining room, up the stairs. I can’t bump into anyone else on the way – if I do I know I’ll chicken out.
Hannah’s room is at the end of the long corridor, I think. As I get closer, I realise I can hear the murmur of voices coming from inside, growing louder.
‘Oh for God’s sake, Han,’ I hear. ‘You’re being completely ridiculous
—’
The door’s open a crack, too. I creep a little closer. Hannah’s out of sight but I can see Charlie in just a pair of boxers, gripping on to the edge of the chest of drawers as though he’s trying to contain his anger.
I stop short. I feel like I’ve seen something I shouldn’t, like I’m spying on them. I stupidly hadn’t thought about Charlie being in there too – Charlie, who I used to have that cringeworthy teenage crush on. I can’t do it. I can’t go up and knock on their door, ask Hannah if she’ll come for a chat … not when they’re half-dressed, clearly in the middle of some sort of argument. Then I nearly jump out of my skin as another door opens behind me.
‘Oh, hello, Olivia.’ It’s Will. He’s wearing suit trousers and a white shirt that hangs open to show his chest, tanned and muscular. I glance quickly away.
‘I thought I heard someone outside,’ he says. He frowns at me. ‘What are you doing up here?’
‘N-nothing,’ I say, or try to say, because hardly any sound comes out of my mouth, just a hoarse whisper. I turn to leave.
Back in my room I sit down on the bed. I’ve failed. It’s too late. I’ve missed my chance. I should have found a way of telling Hannah last night.
I look out through the window at the boats approaching: closer now. It feels like they are bringing something bad with them to this island. But
that’s silly. Because it’s here already, isn’t it? It’s me. I’m the bad thing. What I’ve done.
