Laura Read online

  By the time we reach the hospital, I already know it's too late. Just a feeling, a sense of coldness that seems to wash over me, despite Toby's constant attempts to reassure me that I'm wrong. It doesn't even take the doctors very long to determine that I've lost the baby. The whole experience is quick and clinical. I guess they see people like me all the time.

  “It was still very early,” one of the doctors points out, trying to make me feel better, “and this was your first pregnancy. There's nothing here to suggest that you shouldn't try again.”

  Toby keeps saying similar things on the drive home. Maybe he's right, maybe not, but all I can think about is the fact that I had that little spark of new life inside my body for six weeks, and suddenly it's gone. And now the doubts are rushing into my head. What if six weeks is as far as I can carry a child? What if something's wrong with me and every pregnancy ends this early? What if my body refuses to let a child grow, and I spend the next few years going through this again and again? Hope and despair, followed by more hope and more despair as life keeps dying in my body, until eventually I have to give up. Then again, there's one other possibility, one that the doctor refused to confirm or deny.

  Stress.

  What if my reaction to those photos and videos was enough to cause the miscarriage?

  All the way home, Toby keeps telling me not to dwell on the past. He wants me to look to the future, but I can't shake the feeling that perhaps the shock of the last twenty-four hours has been enough to make my body reject the baby. If that's the case, then whoever uploaded those pictures caused me to lose a child that would otherwise have had a good chance of surviving all the way through to birth. In fact, by the time Toby and I get through the front door, I'm certain that this is exactly what happened.

  “It's my fault,” I whisper.

  “Sophie -”

  “If those photos had never existed,” I continue, too dazed to even go across the hallway and into the front room, “then they'd never have been put online. Then the others wouldn't have been mixed in with them, and I wouldn't have ended up looking like some kind of slut. And then I'd never have gone through so much shock, and right now I'd still be -”

  “Sophie, please, you can't blame yourself.”

  “Who would do it?” I add. “Who would sit down with a bunch of old photos and start changing them to make it look like I was doing awful things? What kind of sick mind would sit at a computer for hours and hours, doing all of that?”

  I pause as I imagine the photos open on a computer screen, being slowly but expertly doctored.

  “No-one'll ever believe the worst ones aren't real,” I whisper.

  “They will.”

  I shake my head.

  “I'll put some coffee on,” Toby says as he heads through to the kitchen. His phone beeps and he slips it from his pocket, and then he glances back at me. “Everything's going to be okay, Sophie. I know it looks bad right now, but we can try again and as for the photos... If anyone has a problem with you after this, then screw them. Your real friends would never judge you.”

  “You don't understand,” I whisper as he goes into the next room. A tear rolls down my cheek, but I quickly wipe it away.

  Placing a hand on my belly, I feel as if I should find some way to apologize to the dead baby, even if I know it's impossible. I never realized how full and complete I felt, until the baby was suddenly gone.

  “No-one understands,” I mutter, before making my way through to the kitchen, where I find Toby standing next to the coffee machine, checking his phone as it beeps every few seconds. I wait for him to say something, before realizing with a slowly growing sense of horror that he seems to be receiving a lot of new notifications. “What is it?” I ask, trying not to panic.

  I wait, but he doesn't say anything.

  “Toby? What's happening?” I hurry over to him. “Let me see. Is it more -”

  “It's pictures from your work trip last month,” he replies, tilting the phone so I can see. “Remember when you went off with Thor and a couple of guys from your office, and you were trying to impress a bunch of clients from Amsterdam?”

  “Sure,” I reply, seeing to my surprise that the anonymous profile has begun tagging me in a set of pretty boring photos from the weekend away. There's one of me at dinner with the guys, and then one of us taking some cheesy tourist cruise along a canal. In fact, I've seen these pictures before on Thor's profile, so I don't understand why anyone would bother posting them again. I was on my best behavior, due to the pregnancy; I didn't even drink or smoke a joint while I was away on that trip.

  Toby swipes through to more of the photos, as the notifications continue to come thick and fast.

  “I hate this,” I say after a moment. “It's like someone is determined to make every moment of my life public. What the hell did I ever do to anyone to make them -”

  Suddenly I see a new picture, one that sends a shiver through my chest. Filled with a sudden sense of panic, I snatch the phone from Toby and step back so he can't look, but I know it's too late. The screen shows an image of me naked and on my knees, as several naked men stand around me.

  “This is fake,” I whisper. “This never -”

  Toby grabs the phone from me and swipes again. I try to take it back, but instead I freeze as I see a photo that shows me on my knees, giving oral sex to Thor while two other guys take me from behind.

  “That didn't happen!” I stammer, trying again to grab the phone. “Toby, these are fake!”

  “Was this Amsterdam?” he asks, pulling away from me, his face pale with shock. “Is this what happened when you were on that so-called business trip?”

  “They're fake!” I sob, with tears streaming down my face. I try yet again to snatch the phone, but he pushes me away and turns his back to me so he can look at more of the pictures.

  “What the hell?” he mutters.

  “Toby, please!” I step around him and see another faked photo, this time showing me doing something even worse than before. “That's been doctored somehow!” I hiss. “Come on, you have to see that none of these are real! That's my face on someone else's body!”

  “You said the other ones were fake too,” he replies, swiping through more and more of these disgusting fakes. “Maybe you were lying the whole time.”

  “Someone's trying to destroy me,” I continue, grabbing his arm. “I'm begging you, please, you have to -”

  “Is this what you meant by a business trip?” he asks, turning to me with pure anger in his eyes. “You just went off to spend the weekend whoring around with other men? Is this the real you, Sophie? Are you just some kind of trashy slut?”

  Chapter Eleven

  Ten years earlier

  “Is there any news?” I shout as Elliot and I race along the hospital corridor. “Nick! Have they told you anything?”

  Up ahead, Nick is rolling a cigarette against the side of a vending machine. As I get closer, I see that his hands are trembling.

  “Where's Lynn?” I ask, grabbing his arm as soon as I reach him. “Nick, what's going on?”

  “She's alive,” he replies, his voice trembling with shock. “They say she should be okay, but they won't know for sure until morning.”

  “What happened?” Elliot asks. “At the house, someone said she might have overdosed on something?”

  Nick shakes his head.

  “Then what was it?” I ask.

  He hesitates for a moment, before checking over his shoulder to make sure no-one's close enough to hear. “I always said I hated drugs,” he continues once he turns back to me. “I don't like being around them, and I always said that some day something bad would happen.”

  “So she did overdose?” I ask. “What was she using?”

  “Cocaine,” he replies.

  I can't help sighing. “She said was kicking that!”

  “She didn't technically overdose,” he continues. “They reckon...” He pauses. “According to the doctor I spoke to, they can't be sure until th
ey've run some more tests, but they think the cocaine was poisoned. They think there was something in it, maybe some kind of poison or bleach.”

  “What?” I stammer, taking a step back. “You can't be serious...”

  “Apparently it's not unheard-of for cheap cocaine to be laced with other stuff to bulk it up,” he replies. “It looks like the cocaine she had tonight was filled with some kind of contaminant. That's why she suddenly started screaming and coughing up blood.” He closes his eyes for a moment. “She collapsed in my arms,” he adds, clearly struggling with everything that has happened tonight. “Right in my arms, with blood everywhere. I thought she was...”

  His voice trails off.

  “It's okay,” I reply, putting my arms around him and giving him a big hug. “She's going to be fine, you said it yourself.”

  “Did no-one else get sick?” he asks.

  “No, just her.”

  “That doesn't make any sense,” he continues, pulling away from me as he finishes rolling his cigarette. “I saw her sharing her stuff with other people. If it had something poisonous in it, why didn't anyone else start coughing up blood?”

  “Maybe she's the only one who took enough,” I suggest.

  “She was being pretty generous,” he mutters, clearly not convinced. “I saw that Ethan guy taking loads, and some of his friends too. It doesn't make sense that she'd end up in the hospital while everyone else is fine.”

  “Then what -”

  “I don't know!” he hisses, stepping past me. “I'm going outside to smoke, but I'll tell you one thing. I've had enough of people acting like immature pricks around me! If people want to screw their lives up, that's their business, but I've got better things to do than spend my time picking up the pieces.”

  Slamming the swing door open, he heads to the next corridor and then out into the yard. I've seen Nick angry when he's drunk before, but never when he's sober. Feeling shocked to my stomach, I turn to Elliot.

  “He's got a point,” he mutters.

  “We've all told Lynn so many times to lay off the hard stuff,” I reply, feeling as if I'm close to tears. “Why isn't booze and the occasional joint enough for her? Why does she have to go and do stuff like this? I swear, if she dies...”

  I pause for a moment, before bursting into tears. I hate myself for getting so emotional, but Elliot quickly puts his arms around me and holds me tight.

  “She's not going to die,” he says firmly, and I feel his warm breath against my ear. “I promise. You heard what Nick told us a moment ago. She's probably getting her stomach pumped right now. With any luck, this time she'll realize what a fucking huge mess she's making of her life. It might be just the kind of shock she needs.”

  ***

  By the time we get back to town, the sun is finally coming up. We spent most of the night at the hospital, waiting until we could see Lynn, but when we finally got to her room we found that she was fast asleep. Still, at least we were able to see with our own eyes that she's going to be okay, and that's all that matters right now.

  Leaning my head against the taxi window, I watch the streets flash past until suddenly a set of flashing blue lights catch my attention.

  “The police,” I stammer, nudging Elliot's arm so he'll see too. “Look, the police are at the house.”

  “They probably want to know where Lynn got that cocaine,” he mutters. “I doubt they're too keen on -”

  “There's an ambulance too,” I add, feeling a flash of fear as I see some more lights. “Stop the car!” I add, turning to the taxi driver. “We want to get out here!”

  While Elliot pays for the ride from the hospital, I clamber out of the taxi and head toward the house where – just a few hours ago – the party was in full swing. Now the place looks desolate and cold, although neighbors are watching the scene from nearby windows and I can't help thinking that this whole situation seems like overkill for a simple accident with cocaine. As I get closer, however, I see a paramedic backing out through the front door, holding the front end of a stretcher.

  Whoever's on the stretcher, they're completely covered by a blanket.

  “What happened?” I ask, turning to an ashen-faced girl who's watching from the next garden. “Is someone hurt?”

  There are tears in her eyes, and she simply stares at me for a moment before looking back at the body as it's loaded into the ambulance.

  “It's Tommy,” a familiar voice says suddenly.

  Turning, I find Laura standing right behind me. She hesitates, before stepping closer and looking over toward the ambulances.

  “Tommy?” I ask. “What do you mean? What's Tommy?”

  “After the party died down,” she continues, her voice sounding strangely blank and emotionless, “pretty much everyone left. Then one of his housemates noticed Tommy wasn't with them. When he went up to check his room, he found...”

  She pauses, as the ambulance starts to drive slowly away. It's in no hurry at all.

  “He found Tommy hanging,” she adds finally, turning to me. “He'd tied a noose and threaded it over one of the beams in his room, and he'd killed himself.”

  Staring at her, I can barely believe the words I'm hearing. “What?”

  “Yeah,” she continues. “Shocker, huh? I overheard some of them talking. Apparently he'd done it very professionally, very clinically and properly. I guess he didn't want any risk of it not working. It must have happened some time shortly after Lynn was rushed off to hospital. I mean, the party ended after that, so the house was almost empty. And Tommy just slipped away from everyone else and went to his room, and...”

  “No,” I whisper, taking a step back as Elliot comes over to join us. “Tommy wouldn't do something like that.”

  “You know what I think?” Laura asks. “I think Tommy was the one who gave Lynn that bad cocaine. You know he used to deal for people he knew. So he gave it to her, and then he felt bad when she was rushed away. Maybe he even thought he'd killed her. I guess he was tired and emotional, maybe still a little drunk or under the influence of something else he'd taken, and the guilt was just too much.”

  I shake my head, as Elliot puts a hand on my arm.

  “Well, I guess that was a pretty rough party,” Laura adds. For the first time, I notice a USB thumb-drive hanging from a thread around her neck. “I'm going to go home and get some sleep. You should try to do the same. I know it's hard, but the police might want to talk to all of us later, just to check whether we saw or heard anything unusual. I don't think there's any real doubt about it, though. Your ex committed suicide, Sophie. Such a tragedy.”

  With that, she stuffs her hands into her jacket pockets and turns, starting the long walk back along the street to our house.

  “Wow,” Elliot whispers, and for the second time in the space of just a few hours he puts his arms around me. “It's like the whole world is going nuts,” he continues, and I can tell he's shocked too. “This can't be happening. Seriously, it has to be some kind of sick joke.”

  “It's real,” I whisper, still watching as Laura walks away. After a moment, I turn and look toward the house, where the front door remains wide open after Tommy's body was carried out. “It shouldn't be, but it is.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Today

  Once I've rung the bell, I step back and wait. The porch at the front of the house is lit by a single lamp above, and I can hear traffic passing nearby, on the main road that runs past the end of the street. It's as if the roar of London is close but not quite here, as if I'm somehow separated from the rest of the world.

  Finally the door swings open and Elliot's smiling face appears, although he hesitates as soon as he sees me. After a moment, he looks down at my suitcase and backpack on the step.

  “I need a place to stay,” I tell him, my voice already cracking with tears even though I was determined to stay calm. “Toby threw me out. He...”

  I pause, before realizing that the tears are about to overwhelm me. I try to say more, but finally I st
art sobbing and Elliot immediately comes closer, hugging me tight.

  “Someone put up fake pictures of me,” I whimper, pressing my face against his shoulder. “Someone made it look as if...”

  My voice trails off, and I swear it's as if the fake images are flashing in my head, refusing to go away.

  “It's okay,” Elliot replies, and I can hear the shock in his voice.

  “Have you seen them?” I ask.

  I wait for a reply, before pulling back.

  “Have you seen them?”

  “I saw one of them,” he replies cautiously. “One of the first ones, I think from the time with Tommy. After that, I blocked the rest. I didn't want to be...” He pauses. “Sophie, do you know who -”

  “They're not real!” I tell him.

  He nods. “I know.”

  “You have to believe me! I never did the worst things in those pictures!”

  “I believe you.”

  “They've been fixed!” I sob. “I'm not that kind of person! I never would've let Tommy take pictures of me doing things like that!”

  “Sophie, I believe you.” He puts his arms around me and gives me a hug. “You don't have to convince me. I know you're not a liar.”

  “Elliot?” a female voice calls through from the front room. “Who is it?”

  “You've got Martha over,” I stammer, suddenly realizing that I'm intruding. I pull away from the hug. “I should go. I can get a hotel and -”

  “No!” he says quickly, reaching out and placing a hand on my arm. “Please, don't go. We have a spare room, you can take it for as long as you need.”

  “But if -”

  “I'm not letting you go to a hotel,” he adds, stepping aside and gesturing for me to go into the house. “If you go to a hotel, then I'm coming too and I'll get a room right next to yours. You shouldn't be alone right now.”

  I hesitate, before realizing that I can't walk away. I reach down for my case and bag, but Elliot quickly grabs them and moves them inside, and finally I follow.

  “Who was it?” Martha continues, hurrying through with a glass of wine in her hand. “This romantic -”