home.” He was still on the floor on his knees and looking as genuine as a club-owning playboy could.
I probably should’ve just stayed and let him do whatever he wanted to me that night. The Sara would’ve been naked and moaning by now. But all I could think about was the boy that I lost my imaginary virginity to. I thought about that night three years ago when he stumbled into my room. I thought about that kiss, that one deadly kiss. When I looked down at Phillip still on the floor, I just shook my head. He got up, grabbed my jacket, and dejectedly walked me downstairs. Before putting me into a cab and sending me back home, he cupped my face and lightly kissed me for the first time that night. Besides Jeff, I’d never been kissed by anyone. I looked up into his dark blue eyes and decided right then and there that I only ever wanted to be kissed by one man, and it wasn’t Phillip Dashell.
Liam makes a growling noise at my side and when I turn to look at him, I see him clench his teeth. “What’s wrong?” I ask him.
“I want to know when the universe is going to stop fucking me up the arse,” he says, shaking his head.
“Liam, calm down. I didn’t do anything with that guy from the club.”
He turns to me with a death glare. “Were you the one who introduced Emily to Louis?” Is this boy on crack? How did he get to that from the story I just told him?
“What gave you that impression from the things I’ve just told you?”
He starts to giggle like a deranged maniac. “You, Sara! You just bloody told me you almost got raped by Phillip Dashell!”
“And Phillip Dashell is a close acquaintance of yours, I suppose?”
He shakes his head, getting himself up and sitting at the edge of the bed with his back to me. “Nah, Phillip is no friend of mine, but he is your buddy Louis’ best mate.”
It’s my turn to start laughing at his silly comment, because I’ve known Louis for over twelve years and Phillip Dashell is not in any way, shape, or form any kind of a friend to Louis Bruel.
“You must be mixing him up with somebody else; he is not one of Louis’ friends. I should know. Louis or Em would’ve mentioned him if he were.”
He turns and pins me with a look of pity. “If it weren’t for Phillip, my sister would’ve never met Louis fucking Bruel. Phillip, Max, Andrew, and Louis were the biggest pieces of rubbish—or shit—I have ever had the unfortunate pleasure of reading about.”
You know that feeling when someone tells you something that they obviously believe, and yet you can bet your life is not true? That’s how Liam’s statement hits me. Once again, Liam is confused. I need to show him that what he thinks he knows and the actual truth are not mutually exclusive.
“I know, let me call Emily and ask her if she’s ever heard of Phillip. Surely, if he were one of Louis’ acquaintances, she would know his name.”
“Yes, that’s a brilliant idea, and I’ll go fetch you something visual to perhaps shine some light your way.”
“Deal.”
“Ace.”
We both say simultaneously, almost daring each other.
“Just Died In Your Arms” by Cutting Crew
Phillip Dashell, the devil, the scum, the root of all evil, has had his dirty hands on countless girls including my sister, and now I find out he almost had Sara. My Sara! I’m not sure how these women have managed to turn my whole life upside down, but I literally feel like I’m in space. If I show her my sister’s pictures, if I show her what kind of friends Phillip and Louis are, she may stop looking at me like a delusional loon.
I head back downstairs to the kitchen where I left my carry-on. I dig through my things and find Isa’s phone, which I charge every bloody day as if she’s alive somewhere and might call. I also find and stroke the only copy of my sister’s unpublished manuscript that exists in print. I had a paperback copy made to remind me of what she went through and who was the cause of all her pain and suffering. The book has no cliché cover, no catchy title; it’s just a piece of her I get to hold on to—her last confession, of sorts. There are parts in it I’ve only read once,