Prologue

I can’t breathe.

I can’t breathe.

I can't breathe.

I can’t –

‘Breathe.’

I gasp as the air fills my lungs, the burning sensation in my chest fading.

‘Don’t act like you didn’t want to die,’ says a voice, teasing and gentle.

I look around, disoriented. Towering oaks with sturdy trunks close in on me from all directions, trapping me like a bird in a cage.

‘I’ll make this quick,’ the voice continues, a toxic edge to its tone, ‘Just admit that you want them dead, and you’ll never have to see me again.’

I almost laugh. It’s not every day you suffocate in a forest while a voice tells you that you wouldn’t mind death.

‘Who are you?’ I ask, attempting to gain a sense of understanding.

‘Now if I told you that, this wouldn’t be nearly as fun, hmm?’ the voice replies, and I hate that I don’t know what it’s talking about.

‘Fine.’ I say, trying to keep my voice steady, ‘Then what am I doing here?’

‘Ah, the question we all want the answer to,’ replies the voice, still evasive. ‘Can’t tell you that either.’

I grumble to myself, slowly becoming irritated. The voice seems to sense it.

‘It’s no good getting angry about it,’ it says, smug and gloating, ‘You just need to ask the right questions.’

‘Ettie…’

I wrack my brain for a solution, for a way to trick the voice into telling me everything I want to know, but something about the way it sounds makes me think that it’s smarter than I’d expect.

‘Just admit you want them dead’ it had told me. Is that what I want, or what the voice wants? And that’s when I know what to ask.

‘What do you want?’

Silence.

‘So you aren’t stupid after all,’ the voice says in response.

‘Ettie…’

‘What made you think I was?’ I say.

‘One question at a time, please,’ the voice replies in mock disapproval.

‘Well, you still haven’t answered my first question, so…’

‘Yes, I’m getting to it,’ the voice snaps, losing its soft and lilting tone.

‘AMORETTE HAWTHORNE WHAT ON EARTH IS GOING ON?’

And I’m no longer in the forest, but at a table with… Oh no.

‘Well?’ Mum demands.

‘I just zoned out, OK?’ I say coldly, ‘It’s not that big a deal. Christ.’

But to my mum, it seems like the biggest deal in the whole world. I watch as she puffs up with rage, eyes darkening, face distorting.

‘Language, Amorette,’ she spits, failing to keep the anger from her voice, ‘and just remember you that you didn’t come here to “zone out”. Got it?’

I roll my eyes, but I don’t say anything. It’s not like I wanted to be here. No, I only came because my mother, being the venomous person she is, begged me to visit her and Dad, saying that they hadn’t seen me in so long and that they missed my face and blah blah blah. I should have known better than to take the bait.

‘I think what your mother is trying to say, Ettie, is that we’re so glad you took the time to come and see us,’ Dad intervenes, trying to encourage conversation.

‘Mmm,’ I reply, knowing full well that he couldn’t be further from the truth.

‘Mum, Ettie, knock it off, OK?’ says Clove, ‘You don’t have to like each other, but you can at least stop fighting for once.’

Mum mutters something under her breath about not having to listen to her sissy of a son, but Clover, being Clover, doesn’t lash out immediately. Instead she builds up to it, and I’m almost surprised by how controlled her voice is when she responds.

‘I’m truly sorry that you have me as your daughter, Mum. I really am. It must be the worst thing in the world to watch your child finally be happy because she no longer has to spend the rest of her life in a body that wasn’t made for her.’ Her voice is steady, but I can feel her getting annoyed with every word she speaks. ‘In case you didn’t realise, you asked me to come. If I hadn't known that Dad would be here, I wouldn't have even bothered.'

Mum’s expression becomes a mixture of disgust, then disappointment, then attempted indifference. Unluckily for her, Clover notices.

‘Did you really think I came for you?’ she says with increasing fury, ‘Well, then I’m sorry to disappoint you, because I didn’t. You said that as long as I was going through this ‘phase’, there wouldn’t be a place in this house for me. You don’t know, and you will NEVER know what that did to me. You don’t know how much I suffered because of your words. So forget about calling me your ‘sissy of a son’, because I’m not yours anymore. I stopped being your child the moment you stopped loving me for me, and that’s something that can’t be undone.’

And with that, Clover gets up, leaving her half-eaten plate on the table, and wrenches open the front door. But then she freezes.

‘Someone’s going to die tonight.’