Chapter 1
“I don’t get it. She clearly told him to fuck off and he keeps stalking her, even breaking into her house. How is that sexy?” said Gemma, as she stuffed salt and vinegar crisps into her cheese sandwich, crumbs scattering her knees and the floor.
“It’s sexy because it shows how much he wants her”, sighed Ellie, as she bit into her carrot stick, watching Gemma scarf down her carb laden feast with envy. Gemma was one of those skinny fat girls, the ones who never need to exercise or watch what they eat to stay stick thin. Ellie was not. “He’s willing to chase her and being chased is a massive compliment to her, you know?”
“But it wouldn’t be sexy if she didn’t end up falling for him, it would be scary and illegal and horrible, and totally encouraging of rape culture and misogyny,” replied Gemma in a frustrated tone.
“But she does like him, and he’s super tall and attractive in that alpha, bad boy way, so it’s not creepy, its hot,” shot back Ellie, continuing, “if you don’t like it just give it back and read another one of your beige high school hockey player romances.”
“Nah, I’ll finish it” said Gemma, “I’m invested now.’” She shot Ellie a sly smile and both girls giggled, going back to their books and munching on their carrot sticks and crisp-and-cheese sandwich, respectively. They ate their lunch in the home economics corridor because the home economics teacher turned a blind eye, and it kept them out of the firing line from the popular girls. They had been doing so since the now infamous toilet fight, in which Ellie, as usual, got the shit kicked out of her by the makeup cladded, high heel wearing girls who had been repeating this action for most of secondary school, and Gemma, who usually escaped the violence by running away on her long, sticky legs, became a victim in the crossfire, was grabbed and pulled back in by her rucksack, screamed like a banshee, then had her head promptly shoved down the disabled toilet and flushed with toilet water to drown out her screams.
Ellie, used to the bullying and inclined to start fights that she was destined to lose, recovered from the incident without a scratch. She had been repeating this pattern since joining school; being an outsider, obstinate, prone to talking and fighting back, and generally just “a bit different” in a way that nobody could put their finger on, Ellie had been a continued target of abuse and being ganged up on, kicked, punched, beaten up, burned with cigarette butts, and once, in a rare moment of originality on the part of Laura, who had just joined the mean girls group from another school, had her hair set on fire. Somehow, she always recovered and returned to school the next day unscathed, even miraculously growing back her thick brown curly birds’ nest of hair overnight. Did she ever learn to fight back and defend herself? No. Did she find a way to avoid getting in these fights that she was destined to lose? Also no. Avoiding a fight did not come naturally to Ellie, but neither did fighting, it seemed. Being hurt and bouncing back undeterred, like a grimacing labrador that continues to lick the lemon slice even though it hates the lemon slice? Yes.
Gemma, however, had to go home and take three days off of school, returning only to appease her distressed mother and to persuade her not to involve the school counsellors. It was out of sympathy for Gemma, and guilt about having got her involved, that Ellie agreed to hide for the remainder of the term.
With only 3 weeks till the summer holidays, Ellie and Gemma laid low and waited till they would be free to leave secondary school, Carlisle and, ideally, the country.
Ellie, the oldest, having started school a year late and due to a good deal of lying and smoothing over on the part of her auntie-turned-guardian Estelle, had just turned 20 the month prior, and felt she was long overdue some freedom. She wanted to travel, maybe working as an au pair or a waitress… she would figure that part out later… she wanted to meet exciting, handsome men, go on dates, (finally) lose her virginity, learn a new language and get a tan. Gemma would turn 19 in the summer, before moving to Manchester to study Psychology and Geology. Gemma, of the two, always had it all figured out and her life organized into pretty little boxes and lists. Ellie, of the two, did not.
After a successful hide out during lunch and zoning in and out of her last two classes, Ellie powerwalked home, only to be sprayed with puddle water by the passing bus, right outside her aunt’s house, where she lived.
Cursing loudly, she stormed in, dripping like an overfilled kettle, then abruptly stopped when she walked straight into a tall, slim, handsome man dressed in a pristine, old-fashioned, purple suit, who seemed to have been in a deep discussion with her aunt, Estelle. The man stood out starkly against the backdrop of Estelle’s multi-colour crochet furniture covers, Himalayan prayer flags, hanging crystals, miniature elephants, astrology books and incense smoke that covered the living room. To be fair, most people would stand out starkly against it, Ellie thought to herself, but this man seemed to stand out especially so. His skin almost glowed, and he himself seemed to be in sharper focus than the air around him, as if Ellie was wearing glasses only when she looked at him. He was also, well, pretty damn hot, in a freakishly tall, slim, dark haired, polished type of way. If you’re into that.
The man’s eyes raked over Ellie, taking in her half wet half dry aesthetic, pausing for a second on her curly mess of hair, before meeting her eyes and hurriedly rearranging his expression from what appeared to be pained concern to forced smile. “Ah, Ellowyn, it’s… wonderful to finally meet you! At last!” he exclaimed, in a bright, sing song voice, his forced smile growing bigger and looking more pained as it crinkled his eyes. Then, to Ellie’s surprise, the man dived forward into a deep, practiced bow.
“Umm… it’s Ellie, not Ello.. whatever you said” said Ellie, shooting wide what the fuck eyes at Estelle, who hummed absent mindedly and smiled, pretending not to catch on. “Also, what are you doing? Can you, like… get up?”
The man swept upright again in a fluid motion, his wooden smile still glued to his face. He seemed to exaggerate his movements, like a dancer, or a cat, thought Ellie, as she wondered vaguely if he was high. Or if she was high? Nah, she didn’t have access to drugs. But it would be nice to try…
“Ellie, dear?” hummed her aunt, and Ellie realized she had been speaking to her.
“Sorry, what?”
“I was just saying that this is Florin, Lord Florin, that is. He’s a relative of yours, a fairly distant one, that is to say, but… anyway, he’s here to meet you… it’s been such a long time really, although not long enough, if you ask me… but they didn’t, so…” Estelle trailed off.
“I’m not calling someone “Lord”, Estelle, that’s well weird” said Ellie, eyeing Florin mistrustfully, her eyebrows knotted.
Leaning in towards Estelle but not breaking eye contact with Ellie, Florin whispered out the corner of his mouth “why does she speak like that?”
“It’s an accent, Florin.”
“Yes, but why?”
“Carlisle seemed as good a place as any to hide out. Besides, it wasn’t my choice to begin with” answered Estelle, absent mindedly touching the opaque white crystal she hung around her neck and rubbing it between her thumb and forefinger.
“I can hear you, you know” snapped Ellie, “and my accent isn’t even that strong.” Already fed up from being soaked and having to put up with her aunt’s weird, unexpected guest, she was quickly beginning to dislike the man.
“Of course, my apologies,” said Florin. His forced smile was now verging on manic, his eyes too wide and concerned looking as they flitted from Ellie to Estelle and back again. “Tell her,” he whispered, a modicum more quietly than before.
Estelle sighed loudly, glancing up at the ceiling for a few seconds, which was also coated in hanging crystals. “Well, Ellie, dear” she began hesitantly, “Florin is here to take you away, you’re to leave with him now. I know this might come as a surprise but… well, it is what it is. He will help prepare you for what comes next, sweetie.” She smiled sympathetically at Ellie, still rubbing her crystal between her fingers slightly more vigorously.
Florin seemed to grow an inch taller as she spoke, then straightened his shoulders and, smiling a bit less crazily, but still definitely more than a normal person would, held out his hand to Ellie.
“Umm, what the fuck Estelle?” Ellie’s voice was slightly higher pitched now. She didn’t take his hand. “You can’t be serious. Is this an actual joke?”
Estelle and Florin didn’t move, both smiling awkwardly at Ellie. Apparently, she was serious.
“What, you’re sick of me? I’m almost done with school, I was going to move out anyway, and you’re trying to send me away with the fucking slenderman?!” Ellie’s voice was rising. This was all too weird and out of nowhere. She could feel her anxiety begin to flare. Clenching her fists, she closed her eyes, breathed in deeply, and opened them to look around the room, finding 5 things she could see (it wasn’t hard in the hoarded space), naming them. Then, she reached out her hand and touched the wall, one, the tarot card pack on the sofa table, two, the teapot, three—
“What’s she doing?” Whispered Florin loudly, breaking her focus.
“Grounding techniques” answered Estelle.
“Who is the slenderman?”
“He’s this very tall, slender guy who—”
“Gaaaah, that’s it! I’m going to go shower!” shouted Ellie.
“Ellie, dear, there really isn’t much time, you have to—” began Estelle, before Florin interrupted her.
“I think a shower would be appropriate” he semi-whispered, his smile faltering as he looked at the wet patch on her white shirt that was suspiciously more yellow than rainwater should be.
Angrily, Ellie huffed and spun on her foot. She stomped up the stairs, rubbing either side of her temple with her forefingers in frustration.
“She’s not ready” Ellie could hear Estelle murmur from the living room.
“Well, who’s fault is that? You obviously haven’t prepared her… you really told her nothing? She never guessed? Had questions?” Florins voice, no longer hushed by the pretence of whispers, was frantic and pitchy.
“No, not really. We always ended up on a different topic when she did ask anything, and I always hoped she would have more time I guess” said Estelle thoughtfully, her slow, soft voice clashing with Florins.
“I cannot believe you. We knew the tithe would be called and now it has been called and there’s nothing else we can—”
His voice was cut out by Ellie turning on the shower and opening her phone to play Bohemian Rhapsody at full volume. As she sang along while rubbing soapy shampoo into her thick hair, she tipped her head back and enjoying the feeling of the near-scolding hot water washing away the stresses of the day, the knots in her back unwinding and the smell of pissy rainwater being swirled down the drain.
