I wanted to thank you for making Luke so happy. If there was one thing I was sure of with Luke, it was that he was desperately in love with you. He told me several times that you were the one and that you two would be together forever. Had this terrible accident not happened I have no doubt in my mind that he would have been a fine man, and that you two would have gone off to college, gotten married, and then made me a grandmother several times over. I wish with all of my heart that could still happen.

I know I wasn’t there for Luke in his life, but if you let me, I would very much like to be there for you. I know you must be in agony right now, so if you need to talk or even want to come and sort through Luke’s possessions then you’re very welcome to come to the house any time. Perhaps, in time, I can get to know my son through you and your memories of him. I know this is a lot to ask of you, and I do not deserve it, but if you could find it in your heart, I would be most grateful.

In a strange way this has all taught me a valuable lesson, all be it too late now. Words of advice from a stupid old lady, Maisie, never take your family for granted. Make the most of every day with them and never be too busy to spend time with a loved one, because one day all you’ll be left with are your memories, and sometimes, like me, maybe not even those.

Take care,

Judith Hannigan

I read the note twice, my heart in my throat. Although the note was fairly formal, I could feel her guilt and pain behind the words. She had barely known her son, and now he was gone so she would never have the chance. Again, I hated him for what he’d done and for the fact that his mother was going to find out all of those horrible things about him. How was she going to feel then? How was she going to deal with the horror of it on top of her grief and guilt for not being there?

I closed my eyes and tipped my head back. “I hate you, Luke,” I whispered. I didn’t though, that wasn’t true. I didn’t think I could ever truly hate him, I just hated being in this situation, and he was the one that put me here.

Suddenly a thought occurred to me. Did I really have to tell the truth? No one but me and Luke knew that it was him. The police investigation had brought up nothing conclusive. There was never anything to link Luke to the things he sent to me, or to Sandy’s murder. Did I really have to break the hearts of so many people? I thought about my memories of Luke. With every part of my being I wished I didn’t know this information. It was so hard to deal with the loss and the knowledge together. If I could erase the knowledge from my memory I would do it in an instant. So why was I about to make other people hurt this much? Why was I planning on telling his mother all these things, when there was nothing they could do about it now anyway? What good could come of me telling people the truth? I could see no good in anything anymore, and the more I thought about it, the more confused I got.

I read Luke’s mom’s note one more time, but this time with a fresh perspective. She was so proud of him, she’d said so herself, but if she knew the truth would that take that away from her pride? Luke was dead, he had already been punished, and nothing else could come of people knowing that he was behind it all. However, deep down I knew that if the thoughts that were formulating in my mind were to come into practice then I’d have to lie to every single person I loved, just to save the memory of the man I loved. I wasn’t sure what to do for the best.

“Knock, knock?”

I looked up quickly, seeing Alex peeking in through the door, obviously waiting for permission to enter.

Seeing his face seemed to snap me out of the self-pitying horror that I’d seeped into. A smile twitched at the corner of my mouth as I waved him in. As he pushed the door open I saw my mom in full sob mode behind him. She practically pushed my twin out of the way as she ran for the bed, engulfing me in a hug that I so desperately needed. I wrapped my arms around her, put my head in the crook of her neck and felt myself relax into her as fresh tears started to fall.

Doctors came and went fairly regularly. No one really spoke about Luke or the car. Mostly Alex blabbered about random stuff, made jokes about hospital food and how nice and quiet it was at home without me. I almost believed him when he said that he didn’t want me home, until I realised that he hadn’t let go of my hand for almost an hour.

Just as I started to get tired there was a knock at the door and a doctor peered in. Everyone looked up but he caught my dad’s attention and motioned with his head for him to go outside. Dad stood up. “Maybe I have to settle the bill?” he joked, shrugging and winking at me as he walked out of the door.

“What’s that about?” Alex asked, watching over his shoulder as if he could somehow hear the conversation if he focussed enough.

Mom shrugged. “Probably arranging a time when we can get your sister home. Maybe they need the bed for someone else?” she suggested.

A minute later and the door opened again. Dad stepped back in, closing the door softly behind him. He looked a little apprehensive, his eyes were tight. He didn’t look too happy about whatever had gone on. “Maisie, the police are here to ask you a few questions about the crash. Do you feel up to it or should I ask them to come back tomorrow?” Dad asked, cocking his head to the side and regarding me worriedly.

I gulped. This was it. Now I had to decide, and I still wasn’t sure what to do.

“Um… I’m fine,” I answered. My palms started to sweat almost instantly so I dropped Alex’s hand and wiped them on the sheets as I shifted awkwardly on the bed, trying to get comfortable.

Dad nodded and turned back to the door, pulling it open and motioning someone inside. DI Neeson stepped into the room and my back instantly straightened from the shock of seeing her here, causing pain to zap across my rips. I let out a little involuntary yelp and gritted my teeth as my mom sprang out of her chair and gripped my arm with wide eyes.

“I’m fine. Just moved too quickly,” I croaked through gritted teeth. The pain slowly receded again and I breathed a sigh of relief. Mom nodded, still watching me with frightened eyes as she let go of my arm and stepped away from the bed. I looked back to DI Neeson, unsure why I was so shocked to see her here. She probably got assigned this case because she was the lead investigator for the harassment and murder case, and it was me, yet again, that was involved in something. “Hi,” I muttered.

She smiled sadly. “Hi, Maisie, how are you doing?”

I shrugged but then wished I hadn’t as another bout of pain swiftly followed the movement. “Okay I guess.” That was the best I could come up with.

She nodded, coming over to the side of the bed and pulling out her notepad and pen. “I need to get your statement about what happened on the day of the crash.” She looked almost apologetic, as if she didn’t really want to be here harassing me after everything that I’d been through. “I know it’s probably hard for you to talk about, but I need to get your statement.”

I gulped, looking around at the faces of my family. They were all standing there, watching me, waiting for me to say the words. This was it. Truth or lie time. Truth and I crush people’s memories irrevocably, lie and people get to keep their opinions of Luke untarnished.

I looked back to DI Neeson. “What happened?” she asked, her pen poised over a fresh sheet of paper in her notebook.

I looked up into her inquisitive eyes and fought with myself. I had a choice; did anyone really have to know? What difference did it make now that he was dead? What was the point in leaving people with sour feelings for Luke? How were his parents supposed to grieve? Would they blame themselves for leaving him so much? No good could come from telling the truth, surely.

“Maisie, can you tell me what happened on the bridge?” DI Neeson repeated her question and I made up my mind.

“Luke lost control of the car. It was an accident.” As soon as I said the words I knew I’d made the right choice. I wouldn’t have to look his parents and friends in the eye and see that hurt and devastation there. This knowledge and pain was my cross to bear, no one else’s.

Chapter 31

I stood in the centre of my room, looking around at the emptiness of it. I’d never seen it this bare before. This had been my room ever since I was a baby so seeing it like this now was a little weird. The room seemed smaller somehow without my stuff lying around. I turned in a small circle, looking at the na**d window because even my drapes had been removed. The walls were dotted with marks where I’d had posters and photos stuck up there. My parents would have to redecorate by the look of it.

Six weeks had passed since the incident with the bridge. The time had taken forever to pass. Every day felt like an age, small things were so much effort as I struggled not to fall into depression. Luke’s funeral had just about killed me inside. It was the hardest thing I had ever done - saying goodbye to the person I thought I would have forever. The service had been lovely, with people saying beautiful things about him and how much he would be missed. I hadn’t spoken. I’d just sat there, dying inside as they lowered his body into the ground. After, I’d sat at his grave for almost an hour, going over and over things, memories, promises, things he’d said to me, plans we’d made. It had torn me apart inside all over again. When it had started to get dark, my brother had ended up carrying me away from his grave because I didn’t want to leave Luke on his own.

I’d only been to his grave once since then. I’d given him a bunch of daisies, and sat down with him apologising over and over for not noticing how insecure he was and how starved he was for attention. His clinging to me after we’d broken up was an act of desperation, I saw that now, and I hated that I’d not just forgiven him earlier so that he hadn’t felt the need to resort to those things. Maybe if I’d forgiven him earlier then he’d still be alive right now and we’d be leaving together. Those thoughts haunted me when I was both awake and asleep. In a way, I’d kind of killed him by not forgiving him earlier.

Of course, after going through all of that, school was the last thing on my mind, so I didn’t make an effort in the final three weeks. I’d barely passed my finals and graduated, but somehow I managed it. That feat was mostly down to Zach, who refused to let me succumb to depression and forced me to study with him every day. He claimed that he needed help graduating, but deep down I think it was more for my benefit than his.

The depression had almost gotten me. I’d almost given in. The whole situation with Luke, and the fact that I was the only one that knew, weighed heavier on me than I thought possible. The police were still looking for the person who sent me all those things, and Sandy’s murder investigation was still open, but they didn’t suspect Luke at all. They had believed my story of what happened on the bridge entirely. I’d told them that Luke and I were arguing, that we pulled up and got into a fight, but when he started driving again he’d lost control and drove into the barrier. The witnesses confirmed our story. The only ones that had left statements, told what they believed to be the truth - that they saw us stop the car, and then when the car started again it drove over the edge. No one except me knew that it was deliberate, and that knowledge would go with me to the grave. I refused to let Luke’s legacy be diminished like that. It would do no good for anyone in the long run and would just cause more damage for others.

The calls and gifts stopped, obviously, but no one pieced it together correctly. I’d heard my parents speculating once when they thought I was in bed. They seemed to be under the impression that whoever was sending that stuff to me, thought I’d been through enough and was stopping the hate campaign. My dad and brother still worried about me like crazy. It was only recently that they let me out on my own without a bodyguard.

Six weeks of grieving and barely sleeping had passed me by. Everything had changed since then, but most of those changes had happened inside me. I’d realised that life was short and that you shouldn’t waste it. It was actually Luke’s mom that made me have that epiphany. She’d come around to see me in the previous week and she’d sat there for an hour just talking about all the wrong choices that she’d made in life. Her words had struck me deeply, and I realised that I couldn’t be here anymore. Everyone knew what had happened, everyone had a sympathetic glint in their eye as they looked at me, everyone felt sorry for me here because I’d lost my boyfriend and almost died myself. All that sympathy did was serve as a reminder that my life had turned upside down and would never be the same again.

So I’d made a decision to leave. Luke and I were planning to move away to college so that it was just the two of us, so I made my mind up that I would stick to that. I would get a fresh start with new people and not be reminded of it every day and in every little thing that I saw. I needed a fresh start, I needed to let go and start living again.

I’d put in a few calls, asked Principal Bennett for a favour, and I’d somehow, despite my grades not being as perfect as they should be, managed to land myself a summer school teaching assistant job. The job was about ten minutes away from the college I would attend in the fall, so I was to move there early and help teach high school kids in summer school. It sounded like a great opportunity for me to get my foot on the teaching ladder which had always been my chosen profession. But it meant moving away from my family three months earlier than planned. And that had taken a heck of a lot of convincing on my part, but they finally understood that I needed to get away and put the past behind me.

I sat on the edge of my bed – the only thing I wasn’t taking with me. I chewed on my lip as I replayed some of the great times I’d had in here, sleepovers, movie nights, laughing with the girls, sneaking Luke into my bed, studying, dancing like a moron with my headphones on. I smiled but stood up quickly when I could feel my eyes prickling with tears. I didn’t want to cry. I’d done too much of that recently, and I refused to cry anymore.