The sister in the dark

Chapter 34

I'm not sure if I can trust Iris with the truth. She might just be acting friendly so that she can betray us later on, so I'm not going to tell her about our- well, the real facts in the case of the Stowe murderers.

Yesterday afternoon, a pair of reporters for The Times and a man from The Sun came to talk to us for the newspapers. I didn't really know what to say, in case I ruined our story with the slip of my tongue, so I mainly kept to something along the lines of what Rose had said, just sticking to the I'm traumatised from my experience plan.

"How are you doing?" Iris asks me, from her bed across the room.

"I'm... I'm okay. My stomach hurts, as you can probably guess, and I'm feeling nauseous and lightheaded, tired, weak, generally not okay, actually."

"I feel for you. There's no point in telling you to get better soon, especially as that's more of a long-term injury, and it sucks when everyone else is just managing perfectly fine and you're dying inside. It's hard, but you'll get through it."

Iris is just different. That's what I like about her, she's not like the other girls I know, she doesn't bother with niceties, just goes straight for it, not really stopping to care about what people think about her. It's a cool personality trait, and I wish I was born that way.

Iris gets up from her bed and limps out of the door, presumably to go to the toilet, and as soon as she seems to be out of earshot, Rose sits on the end of my bed and starts talking quickly.

"I had this dream last night. I've had it multiple times, and it's strange but in a good way, I think. I've written about it in my diary, but I keep having it and it's kind of scaring me, because what if it's real, or like a prophecy or something?" She shakes her head. "I don't know. But a lot of crazy stuff has been going on, and... yeah."

I lean forwards and take her hand. "Just tell me."

"Basically, there's this house, a big house, with gardens and massive windows and stuff. And it backs out onto fields. One of them has a caravan in it... do you just want me to show you the diary entry?"

I shrug. "Sure."

She pulls the diary out of a pocket in her coat and begins to search through the pages. I catch glimpses of drawings and words, and flashing before my eyes, over and over again, is one word that stands out of many. Evelyn. My name, at least once on every page.

Finally, Rose reaches the page she was looking for and shows it to me. I read it aloud.

"Dear Diary,

"Usually I talk about stuff that goes on at school with Charlotte and her cronies, but today I wanted to write about this dream I had last night. It was so beautiful and I just wanted to put it somewhere so I would never forget it.

"There was this house, chalk-white with ivy crawling up the walls and snaking around the windows. It was big, with a huge gravel driveway and a garden that backed out onto fields and fields of grass in varying colours of emerald, olive and pine. In one of the fields closest to the house was a little caravan draped in red rugs, and I was inside, along with Evelyn and a girl I've never seen before but somehow I know her name was Katherine. And I could fly.

"I could almost feel the wind on my face, almost feel the sensation of being weightless, of drifting among the clouds. It felt so, so real and I loved it.

"On another note..." I start the next paragraph, but Rose slams the diary shut and clears her throat.

"Anyway, last night I had the same dream, but this time I went into the house." Iris returns from the toilet and Rose lowers her voice. "And in there was Charlotte and Amelia and Emily, and all of them were talking and laughing and when I tried to walk up to them they didn't see me, like I was the ghost." She lets out a short laugh. "But they're dead, right? And, I dunno, I was just thinking, what if they... come back?"

"That's impossible, Rose."

"I know, but I couldn't go to sleep and I had that thought stuck in my head."

I lean forward, ignoring how it makes my stomach twinge, and give her a frail hug.

"We all have those sorts of thoughts sometimes Rose. Don't worry."

She smiles. "Thanks."

"So you were dreaming about a girl called Katherine?" Iris asks.

"Um... no." Rose is quick to dismiss.

"You were, I heard the two of you talking about it as soon as I left. Some people really need to realise that I'm always listening." She mutters the last part to herself.

"I'm sorry, but why do you care about the girl Rose dreamt about?" I ask, trying my hardest not to sound rude and failing.

"Just interested." She picks up a book, Murder on the Orient Express by Agatha Christie.

It seems that the conversation is over. I tuck my legs up towards my chest, hitting the wound. My eyes cloud with tears and I screw them shut to avoid crying. Okay. Deep breaths. Blink a couple times. I'm fine.

When I open my eyes again there's a girl standing in the doorway, leaning on the doorframe, arms folded, a smile on her face making her cheeks go pink.

I feel like I should describe her a little. She has a kind of pecan hair colour, wavy and soft, light skin, freckles, pink lips, hazel eyes, and the prettiest smile I've ever seen. She's wearing the same school uniform that the rest of us wear, but in a way that it looks fashionable. The light blue and navy checkered skirt hangs just above her knees, and her white socks are pulled up as far as they can. Her black leather school shoes, one foot tapping on the floor, her white blouse, covered a little by her dark blue blazer. And of course her clear, almost- circular glasses that she can pull off so flawlessly.

The girl nods a greeting at Rose and I, and turns her head back towards Iris, foot still tapping.

"Iris?" She asks after a little while.

Iris looks up at the girl in the doorway, smiles, and returns her attention to her book.

"Okay, I'll come back later," the girl in the doorway says, beginning to walk away, but then Iris finally looks up, paying attention.

"Kamalyn! Come back!"

Kamalyn. That's who this girl is. I'm pretty sure Iris mentioned Kamalyn earlier, but I can't remember how she was significant.

She sits on the end of Iris's bed, legs crossed, one hand holding Iris's.

I remember now. They're girlfriends.

"Oh, and I brought the newspaper." She unfolds it, and I catch a flash of the headline.

OLIVIA GRAHAM CONFESSES!

Olivia Graham, arrested two days ago for the murders of Charlotte Grosse, Amelia Martell, Emily Caprio and Hamika Driver, with Michael Curtis. Yesterday evening, after a long, pressing police interview, the 13-year-old girl confessed that she killed Hamika Driver, kidnapped Rose and Evelyn Hyde and helped to cover up the murders of the three others. She is awaiting trial for murder early next year, in which it is expected she will earn life in prison. Michael Curtis, however, is still resisting confession, and claims that he was framed for these murders. However, there has been no further search by the police towards his claims. But with one killer caught, how long will it take for the other to cave in?

Coming next week: the rise of purple haribos?