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“I don’t think we’ll have a problem with that, but if we do I’ll drive her there myself.”

Sighing, Hanna said, “You sound tired. I think you’re the one who really needs a break.”

“I’m fine, so please don’t start worrying. I’ll email you the date Paige’s break starts so you can book the time off.”

After ending the call Jenna went to check on Josh, who was doing quite well with his favorite game, Skylanders, so she sat down to watch. Thank God he was all right; if anything more serious had happened to him…She couldn’t even bear to think of it, so she had to put it out of her mind.

“Your phone’s ringing, Mum,” he told her.

Realizing it was, she saw it was Paige and clicked on. “Hi, is everything all right?”

“Yeah, I just saw Josh’s picture. Is it broken? How did he do it?”

“On the trampoline, and yes, it’s broken. Do you want to speak to him?”

“In a minute. Have you told Dad about it?”

“Not yet.”

“So you haven’t spoken to him today?”

“No. Why? Have you?”

“No way. And of course he’s forgotten about tonight. We knew he would, and even if he remembered he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it, seeing as he’s in
America.
”

“He could apologize and make another arrangement,” Jenna retorted.

“Except I’m not interested.”

Aching for her, Jenna said, “Where are you?”

“At school, where do you think?”

“I thought I could hear traffic. Would you like me to come and pick you up later so we—”

“No, it’s OK. I’ll get the bus home. I have to go now.” And before Jenna could say any more, the line went dead.

Texting her, Jenna said,
Why don’t we go to the King tonight, just the two of us? I’m sure Grandma will babysit.
Was that going to be a good thing for Josh? He would need help eating, but her mother was perfectly capable.

She waited for an answer, but none came, and by the time she thought of it again they were all sitting down for tea, apart from Paige, who’d taken a poached egg on toast up to her room.

—

Over a week had gone by since Julie had started sending links to special websites, and Paige’s eyes were starting to feel swollen and raw. She’d hardly slept for the past few nights; in fact, the most sleep she was getting was during the day when she dozed off while riding buses around Swansea and even over to Cardiff. It was the only thing she could think of to escape the Durmites. Going into school wasn’t an option any longer, especially now that she and Charlotte weren’t speaking, so she was forging sick notes from her mother. It ripped her apart to be ignored by her best friend, and she couldn’t take any more of the physical abuse, simply couldn’t handle it on her own, although there was nothing she could do to stop it coming through her phone and over the Internet. She was no longer sure how much of it was from Kelly, since anonymous messages were coming from all over now, swamping her inboxes, filling her phone, all of them taunting and tormenting her, telling her what a waste of space, a troll, a saddo, or a loser she was. A lot said even worse than that, really disgusting stuff that made her feel so ashamed that she couldn’t bring herself to look in the mirror.

She didn’t understand why people felt the need to be so obscene and cruel, or what made them attack someone they didn’t even know, using their venom, their evil, as if twisting and turning knives.

The only place she could go for proper understanding and advice was these websites. There were quite a few, with hundreds, maybe thousands of contributors from all over the world, many suffering in the same way she was. A lot had become self-harmers who wrote about the relief they achieved through cutting themselves with razor blades, hacksaws, pieces of plastic, even the corners of toothpaste tubes. Though she hadn’t yet done the same, she was being encouraged to all the time. It would make her feel better, she was told. She’d be taking control, ensuring she was the one who caused herself harm rather than leaving it to someone else. Some had posted videos of themselves bleeding from wounds so deep that they surely needed stitches, but as far as she could make out no one ever went to a hospital. It was like a challenge they set themselves: who could cause the most damage to their arms, legs, faces, or even bones without anyone noticing? One girl liked to burn herself; she loved the smell, she said. Another scraped the skin from her legs with a peeler.

Paige usually chatted with her new friends in the dead of night, when darkness seemed to acquire so many more depths that she wondered where they might end. Down and down she would go, like the White Rabbit in
Alice in Wonderland,
to a place where perspective felt different, and everything was deathly quiet and still. The only sounds were the tapping of her keys and the gentle hum of the computer. She could imagine the others in their own pockets of light, dotted around the world like small, lonely stars in a vast night sky. Several were suicidal, or so they claimed, but she didn’t know of anyone who’d actually gone through with it yet. They were always talking about it, all the different ways they’d explored, and why one might be more effective, less painful, easier to achieve than another. Hanging, wrist-slitting, ODing, leaping from a bridge into the path of a lorry…She’d followed some of the links through to step-by-step guides of how to prepare, what not to do, and what was recommended when the time came.

As she read the posts she could feel her friends’ loneliness as deeply as she felt her own. It was an invisible yet powerful connection between them that held them together, made them feel less lonely for a while, and even gave them a sense of belonging. This was where they could exist without fear of their persecutors finding them.

Though Paige never offered advice the way some did, she was always ready with sympathy when she felt it was needed. And she received plenty too. They understood her in a way no one had before, apart from Julie, who was constantly sending her links to new blogs or sites and meeting up with her in chat rooms where suicide was the main theme.

I want to do it so badly,
Julie confessed in their private messaging one night,
and I think I’m getting there. How about you?

I think I am too. I read on one of the sites the other day that dying might be painful, but after death there is no pain, or abuse, or anything that can hurt you again. That makes so much sense.

Yes, it does. Have you thought about how you’d do it?

I think the same way as you, either off a cliff or I’d walk into the sea.

I reckon that would be the most painless. Sometimes when I think about it I feel I’d be flying like a bird or an angel as I jumped, and as soon as I hit the rocks below I’d leave my body and be flying again.

I get what you mean. It sounds lovely. Do you think you’ll do it?

I want to. I guess we’ll see. Maybe I’m like all the others, just talk. I reckon you’ve got more courage than me.

Sometimes I want to do it so badly that I go to the cliffs and stand looking down at the sea. I’m not sure what stops me.

You’re just not ready yet, but I think you will be. Did you notice that Karina hasn’t been online since she posted her goodbye note? That was over a week ago.

Paige had noticed, but she was still waiting for Karina to turn up again. It wasn’t her real name, of course; everyone used an alias—Paige’s was Giselle, Beyoncé’s middle name. She hadn’t found anything in any of the news websites about a teenage girl killing herself, but it could have happened in Australia or Singapore or anywhere in the world and just not got through to them.

Has your mum found out yet that you’re not going to school?

No, but she’s bound to soon. Someone’ll ring her up or Charlotte will tell.

I think it really sucks that you and Charlotte aren’t friends anymore. Just goes to show you never know who you can trust.

Paige hadn’t responded to that. She didn’t like to talk about Charlotte much, or even to think about her really. After what she’d said about her dad, Paige didn’t want any more to do with her. She was never going to forgive her for that, not ever.

Earlier today she’d taken a risk by riding the bus from Swansea to Llanrhidian. Usually she didn’t come onto the Gower for her truancy journeys, or not very far onto it anyway, but when she’d been at the station trying to decide which bus to take she’d spotted one of the rangers who helped tourists heading her way. Afraid he was going to ask why she wasn’t at school, she avoided him by jumping onto the nearest bus, which had turned out to be heading for Llanrhidian. At least it was the opposite side of the peninsula from where she lived, so the chance of someone getting on who knew her wasn’t as likely as if she’d found herself on her way to Oxwich or Port Eynon.

She was at home now, safe in her room, except it wasn’t safe, because they still got to her here through her phone and computer. Amongst all the horrible stuff today she’d had a sweet Snapchat from someone called Petra telling her to be brave, everyone was with her. The photo was of a kitten, so she had no idea what Petra looked like, if she was even a girl. It didn’t matter. All that did matter was that in amongst the blizzard of abuse she had people to communicate with who cared, and though she often chatted with them during the day she always felt the best times were at night. She knew she was entering the darkest part of the dark side when she connected with them then—she even felt as though she was being swallowed right up in the shadows—but it was getting so that she could hardly wait to be there. It was the only place that seemed to make any sense, the only time she could express herself in ways that would have been impossible elsewhere.

Flora was with her now, sitting on the bed playing with the stuffed animals that Paige had had since she was a baby.

“Can I take Little Kanga to sleep with me tonight?” Flora asked, cuddling the downy toy to her cheek.

“If you like,” Paige answered, keeping her back turned and eyes on the chat room. She wasn’t taking part, just reading, absorbing, and fretting.

“He’s my favorite. He’s yours too, isn’t he?”

Paige didn’t bother to respond.

“I like Sally the rag doll as well, and Hippo, and Teddy, and Penguin, and everything you have, because you’ve got all the best stuff and I don’t have very much.”

Paige wasn’t listening. Someone new was in the chat room saying that Karina was definitely gone and that she wanted to thank all her friends for their messages of love and support that had helped her to find the courage to take the only way out.
She’s free now. She’s happy and with the people she loves.

Paige felt suddenly horribly light-headed and scared.

Someone she had chatted with had actually taken her own life.

If Paige did the same, she would be with Grandpa. There would be no more texts or emails, tweets or postings; she’d be beyond it all, no longer a loser, or ugly, or someone whose father had left home because of her. She wouldn’t have to read any more nastiness about her “weird grandma” or her “wimpy brother Josh” or the “four-eyed twins.” Her mother wouldn’t be the whore who’d taught her all she knew, her father wouldn’t be a rapist, and the perverts who’d joined in would have no one to send their revolting videos to. She wouldn’t feel as though she was being watched all the time and hated and despised. There would no longer be any shame in being her, because she really would be Paige No Moore.

“Please, Paige, please, please, please,” Flora was begging.

“Please what?” Paige muttered.

“Put some makeup on me, make me look pretty like you.”

Paige turned round. “I’m not pretty, OK?” she snapped. “There’s nothing pretty about me, so don’t ever say it again.”

Flora’s eyes grew huge behind the frames of her glasses.

“You have to go now,” Paige told her. “I don’t want you in here anymore.”

Climbing off the bed with Little Kanga clutched to her chest, Flora walked to the door with her head bowed. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, “I didn’t mean to make you cross.”

“I’m not cross, I’m just…I’ve got private stuff going on, so you need to go.”

Minutes after the door closed behind Flora, Julie came online.

Did you read about Karina?

Yes. Lucky her, she’s already done it.

I think I might be ready to.

Me too.

I’ve been thinking. How about we do it together?

Paige’s heart leapt. She’d been thinking the same thing.
That’s a good idea.

When?

Paige hesitated, not sure what to say.

I’ll be ready when you are. Just let me know. There’s a place we can go. I’ll give you directions.

Paige felt her head starting to spin. It was coming closer now. It wouldn’t be long before it was all over.

You should write down everything that’s happened to you, make sure the Durmites get the blame they deserve.

Paige was definitely up for that.
Do you know anyone who’s already on the other side? I mean someone in your family.

My mother.

Paige blinked in surprise. Julie had never mentioned that before.
How long ago did she die?

Ages. I never really think about her. Is there someone there for you?

My grandpa. I know he’ll take care of me.

Then you’ll be all right.

Your mum will take care of you.

I have to go now. Don’t forget to let me know when you’re ready. I can’t wait much longer.

Do you realize we’ll get to meet? I’ll know who you are. Do I already know you?

Not really. We’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other on the other side.

As the contact was lost Paige felt a numbing bleakness stealing over her, like a dense gray mist rolling in from the sea. She thought of her mother, her father, Josh and the twins, her grandma, and Auntie Hanna. Tears began spilling from her eyes; sobs were trying to choke her. Then she remembered what she’d been told.
You will only be thinking about yourself when the time comes. No one else will matter or even exist. If they do, then it means you’re not ready to go.