TRUST ME?

Chapter One - Hannah Keaveney



Somebodys brown duffel bag emblazoned with the school crest of an eagle and the motto which was “ Alumnos nostros succedet” (our students will succeed) slammed into India’s knee. India looked up irritated, she expected to see the face of one of her “ minions” as she liked to call them. Every minion hoped to be singled out as a best friend, but to India they all looked the same, too much the same with their green plaid skirts, heavy green jumpers and bobble heads which nodded in agreement with India every time she spoke.

Instead India met the eyes of a flustered first year who was biting her lip to stop herself from smiling. “ Oh! My gosh, its you, Ummm im Jenny, Sorry India, see you at hockey practice, Uh Bye!”. The first year scuttered off grinning from ear to ear.

India smiled it was funny. People were always eager to talk to India. Was it her confidence, her wit? she thought. No most likely it was because of who her parents were. India’s parents were the chairpeople of the schools funding. As chairpeople they had complete power over every teacher, student, the principal and everyone on the bord of management. Both of Indias parents were titled, which gave India her double barreled name India Carlington-Kent.

One would never have known her parents were titled if they met them in the sixties. In the sixties India’s parents had long hair with daisy chains running through their knotted hair. Both wore tie-dyed shirts and flared jeans. According to pictures India had seen, they made their own flip flops from wood and string.

Today India’s parents were both working for the United Nations. Gone were the tie- dyed shirts, flared jeans and flip-flops, today they wore navy starched suits and black leather shoes. Their suits were so starched that it was like hugging a brick wall. India was required to hug her parents upon their rare meetings. India saw her parents twice a year.

When the school holidays began India would take a taxi from her boarding school in Kildare to Dublin airport. From Dublin airport India would take a plane to see her grandmother in Chelsea, London. Indias family were unusual, she barely knew her parents and spent most of her time outside school with her grandmother ( Diane ). India and her grandmother kept up correspondance weekly with letters and packages. Diane dosen’t trust email.

India smiled while pulling on her socks in the changing room, she was expecting a package from her grandmother. Packages from her grandmother always came on Fridays, usually containing generous butterscotch bars of Green & Blacks chocolate, books , the odd jumper and the very rare letter from India’s parents.

The bell rang, juddering India out of her daydream. India ran out of the damp locker room and slowed to a walk . She watched some first years playing hockey on the green grass. India smiled she loved her school with its green grass, winding turrets, creaking wooden floors and old fashioned school ethos. Her school was St. Endalines in the heart of the Kildare countryside. The school was once the home of a wealthy family whose lineage had become extinct in the early eighteen-hundreds. The castle-mansion had been refurbished and then turned into a convent and eventually a school. Some said the school was haunted because of the graveyard of the original family was still just beside the hockey pitches. Everyone else thought the graveyar was creepy but for india it was a place of sanctuary where she could get away from everyone else. The graveyard was always well cared for and the graves were decorated with flowers in respect for the former owners. It was a happy graveyard.

India’s school had become her home, Chelsea, London was India’s second home. India had been at the boarding school since the age of seven. India’s parents decided they didn’t want to look after their child and had frantically searched for a boarding school which would take young children. India had vague memories of being brought to the boarding school, given a pat on the head by her mother, a stiff “ Be a good girl” from her father and she was ushered into the school. At the time it had looked like a prison to India and she kicked up a fuss. India had refused to eat her dinner , screamed and hollered. Instead of being punished India was picked up by a teacher, given tea and a biscuit. The school had shown India more affection than India’s parents had ever shown her, that was the beginning of India’s love for her school.

The students came from wealthy backgrounds. All students were courteous and well- spoken. This is due to the fact that the school was also hailed as a finishing school for young ladies of society. Every year, there was a parents evening. Every parent would come for an award ceremony for their daughters, a sports event and to meet their daughters teachers. It was a very important event for the school. Students and staff would spend week preparing for what promised to be the highlight of the school year. Catering staff were hired, the grounds were tended to by a countless number of gardeners and medals were ordered. Every year, India would stay awake in the hope that her parents would arrive. She would dress in her best clothes a silk royal blue dress that complemented her brown eyes and brown hair , india would hardly eat breakfast, when the libary was full of parents she’d rush down to the balcony and frantically search for her parents . . . they were never there. India knew she should have learnt her lesson by now but they were her parents and she loved them because they were her parents.

India sighed and walked into her dormitry, each girl had a bed, wardrobe, chest of drawers and mirror. All furniture was very finely made, as if to promote the reputation of the school.

India brushed her mahogany coloured hair, dumped her bag and swaggered out of her room. Her black leather loafers went clip-clop as she walked down the stairs. “ Hey India, where you going? can I come?” said a “minion” Heidi in a shrill voice. “I’ll be back in a minute just going to my cubby hole, to get mail” said India without looking back. She wanted to read the letter alone, to smile as she imagined her grey haired, Chanel lipsticked grandmother writing it to her. It was nice to know that one person cared about her.

India ran into the post room and found her wooden cubby hole. There was not one but two letters in it ... thats strange she thought ..was it from her parents? No, it couldn’t be, could it? India opened the letter and scanned it quickly it was signed with an X .




Chapter 2

(I sat down and surveyed the cramped desk which I was currently forced to use as a writing desk for lack of a better alternative. It was covered in books I had no interest in, and beyond that, I found the way they were scattered across the desk for no discernible reason infuriating. I cleared a space big enough for me to lay my paper by pushing some of the books off the table, then stared at the page for a couple of minutes. I had no idea how to write this. The people who do this kind of thing on TV always seem to be deluded masterminds, brimming with self confidence and completely secure in their own genius. But then, perhaps it was doing things like this that made them so confident? Perhaps they had all started out like me, anxious and unsure, and gradually grew into the arrogant maniacs they became. I shook myself. These kinds of thoughts were getting me nowhere. I just had to get it started. Everything else would just.....flow from that point.)

Dear India,

From the moment I first saw you, I knew you were something different. Something special. Something better than everyone around you. I’m sure you’ve realised this yourself. Someone as smart as you must have. I’ve seen many, many things and met many, many people over the course of my life, and you blow each and every one of them away. Someone like you has the potential to be perfect.

(I read the introduction back to myself. It sounded really stupid. I considered rewriting it, then decided against it. I didn’t want to get too caught up in editing this thing, and besides, maybe this particular brand of stupidity would appeal to India’s massive ego. So, what next? Should I just get straight to the point? No, best to draw her in first, entice her into taking the letter seriously).

Each time I lay my eyes upon your beautiful face, my heart begins to beat a little bit faster. The colour of your eyes, the way your hair falls back, it’s just... perfect. You radiate beauty in a way that I have never seen anyone else do before I met you, or since. Please, don’t ever change a thing about your appearance. It would break my heart. Whatever you are doing now, it is working exactly as it should.

I’ve seen you in so many different places- your school, town, around your home, to name but a few, and your presence brightens up all of them. Don’t try to work out who I am. You haven’t ever seen me. Not even once, in all the times I’ve seen you. It hurts me so badly to think that I have now gone so long without seeing you, but I will soon see you again. Don’t worry. You are the last thing I think about before I go to sleep and the first thing I think of when I wake up in the morning. I couldn’t imagine living in a world without you in it.

(This was a lot better. It had exactly the kind of creepy but flattering vibe that I was going for. I wasn’t sure whether or not I should keep going with this. It wasn’t very important, but it was easy to write. In the end I decided that it was best to get to the point in the next paragraph.)

Your personality is amazing too. But it’s not perfect. You’re confident, you’re funny- you always have been. And most people love you, with the exception of the odd person who is jealous of your beauty, talent and success. But there are a few people who have good reasons not to love you. You need to make amends to these people. I’m not going to tell you exactly what I mean by this because you should be able to figure it out on your own. Someone of your intelligence- it ought to be easy.

(I smiled inwardly at the backhanded compliment. She would no doubt find it infuriating not knowing what I meant. I wasn’t really used to this whole letter writing business, and wasn’t sure how long it was supposed to be. If I had a computer nearby I could check online as to whether or not it was supposed to be longer than a page, but luxuries like computers were currently beyond my reach.)

The India I know would never want to intentionally act cruelly. You must not realise how cruel you are being. But you are acting cruelly. You are causing pain to other people and it hurts me so badly to see you do this. I will be watching you carefully over the coming week to make sure you follow through on this. Believe me, there will be unpleasant consequences if you do not follow through on this.

(This was the important part, the part that was going to get me what I wanted. I breathed a sigh of relief as soon as the last word was written and crossed the‘t’ with a flourish. Everything after this was going to be easy.)

But we should not dwell on such unpleasantness. Somebody as beautiful, as perfect as you are should not be subjected to that. Almost everything you have, you deserve. Send my best wishes to your parents. You have, and will always have, my undying love,

Yours Sincerely

X

(I read it back over again. I hadn’t realised it until now, but my hand had been shaking from nervousness the entire time and this had made my usually flawless handwriting quite difficult to read. I was about to crumple up the letter and start again, then realised that the poor handwriting would make it a lot harder to trace the letter back to me. Besides, I kind of liked the effect. It seemed to me like the kind of handwriting that a creepy stalker would have, since such people presumably spent their time obsessing over their crushes rather than practising their writing.

I wrote out a copy to compare it to the original, and eventually decided I was right about the effect that the poorer handwriting made on the tone of the letter. The second letter looked too clinical to be the work of a stalker- but then, perhaps the professionalism of the second letter was the kind of effort a stalker would put into a letter to the object of their affection? I hesitated, then decided that I was over thinking it. I took the first letter and sealed it carefully in an envelope, then set off to deliver it.)


Chapter: 3


India slipped the letter under her arm, she would read it more intently in the privacy of her dormitory later. She did not want to return to her room, she feared running in to Heidi and actually having to have a conversation with her. Looking up and down the corridor outside the post room India decided to go to the graveyard, even if it was raining outside, that meant nobody would come looking for her. She grabbed a rain jacket off the communal coat stand by the main hall and made her way out through the thick wooden door.


The gardens were better in the rain, they just belonged to her because no one else was careless enough to come out in the rain wearing their uniform, for fear they would not get it cleaned and dried in time for school. Teachers did not mind if India wore casual clothes mixed with her uniform, they were nice to her to stay on her parents good side, the school needed the chair people to be happy. India felt their actions were pointless, as her parents just saw her as another student in the school not as their daughter. She stood under the tree that had been planted in honour of her parents, to get shelter from the rain. ‘Stupid tree’, India spit out looking up through the trees canopy. It was bad enough the whole school reminded her of her parents, she did not need a reminder in the one place she came to forget them. Annoyed with herself for thinking about her parents, India strode out into the rain and made her way through the wet muddy grass to the graveyard.


The graveyard was just out of view of the school. It had a tall metal entrance gate with the old family name engraved on it, but for some reason there was no fence attached to the gate to surround it, everything was open. India used the gate anyway, it made her feel like she was entering a new place, far away from her school, all the minions and her teachers who practically worshiped her parents. The gate creaked, as always. Today though it was quite eerie, this was the first time India had ever ventured to the graveyard while it was raining, the grey overcast sky and the mist that was forming from the rain landing on the warm ground gave the graveyard a supernatural feel, like the energy of the dead could be felt there during bad weather. India never really believed in supernatural things, but she knew many of the minions did. Rumours went around the school of the graveyard being haunted, but if that was the case, then even the ghosts were afraid of getting on India’s parents bad side. India placed the cookie basket down on the nearest gravestone, placed the letter in her shirt pocket and sat on the next gravestone. She selected a cookie and placed it to her lips, taking a bite of the cookie reminded her of the one person who loved her. Here in the graveyard she should probably feel more alone than she did anywhere but she did not, the cookie, no matter how insignificant to anyone else, was here attachment to her Grandmother, the one thing that kept her sane. Gazing around the Graveyard India thought about her life and what would become of it. One thing she knew for sure ‘ ‘Everyone loves you when you’re six foot in the ground.’ John Lennon’. She said it aloud and the sound of her voice lingered in the air. Sighing India decided it was time to go back to the school, before minions came looking for her.


‘Some one open the door!’ India roared through the thick wood, she knew there was no need to shout, that they would have seen her coming through the windows, but she felt like being loud. The door open an inch and India slipped in. ‘Hey India.’ India stared at the minion she had no idea who she was, so she shrugged her shoulders and kept going. The stairs were crowed with bags, the usual on a Friday evening, everyone was leaving, going home to their loving families and happy lives.


India stood outside her dormitory gathering herself before she entered, she liked to always look perfect in front of her minions, if she looked like them-hair messed and wearing the green plaid uniform- they would start talking to her, something she tried to avoid. India strode into the dormitory, not meeting anyone’s eye and headed straight for her bed, which unfortunately was at the very top of the long room. She looked into the mirror and saw all heads turned towards her, she flicked her hair over her shoulder to give them a hint, their heads turned away instantly.


India sat down on her bed, the springs creaking, making her sound ten stone heavier than she actually was. She glanced round to make sure the minions had gone back to the meaningless babble, then retrieved the unknown letter from her pocket. There was no return address, no stamp and no sign off at the end. The letter was short, the paragraphs evenly set out. India read the introduction of the letter. The writer might have been unknown to India, but he knew her very well. India had potential she knew that, but she had never thought of herself to be smart., the writer flattered her.


The second paragraph was longer and India noticed the writing became shakier, like the writer was unsure of what to say, by reading it though she thought it had been written perfectly. The unknown admire, India was starting to think by know, had really been paying attention to her beauty. The letter had a stalker effect to it, but famous people had stalkers, so India saw nothing wrong of it, she was, in her eyes, famous. This person seemed to follow her everywhere, thought of her every second. The idea of being loved by someone other than her Grandmother, even if it was a total stranger, appealed to India.


The third paragraph threw her off a bit. The writer turned nasty, wrote about her being cruel to people, how people had reasons to hate her. The writer gave no clue as to why these people felt this way or how she could fix it. This maddened her. If the writer adored her as much as said why were no hints given on how to fix the problem of the haters? Reading on there was talk of consequences, how could someone just write a letter with no explanation and say there was going to be consequences if the letter was not followed? The letter ended on a light note, with sending’s of love to India and her parents.


The letter irritated India. She was not going to sort out problems she never knew she had just because some weirdo told her to. Who signs a letter with an X anyway? India thought to herself, that is ridiculous. How could she be cruel? She was rude and arrogant that she knew because it was a façade she put on, but cruel? Never. Though the letter was frightening, India was enthralled by the idea of someone following her, watching her. It was, in her mind, a kind of love, no? To follow some took patience and dedication, to spend that amount of effort meant to care. She was still annoyed about the intentional message of the letter and what would happen if she did not follow the obscure instructions.


India stood and grabbed a travel bag out from under her bed. She flung clothes into it and a few of her belongings. She picked the letter up from the floor where she had thrown it a few seconds ago. Stared at it with a daring glance, as if the write could she her through the paper and ripped it up. The dormitory had gone quiet, India glanced up. All the girls were staring at her, like they always knew she would go mad.
‘You okay India?’ One of the brave offered from the left side of the room.
‘Yes. Do I not look ‘okay’ to you?’ she wanted an answer, she needed to scream or shout at someone, but as usual nobody answered her. She finished packing her bag and strut down the long floor, out through the dormitory doors.


India waited outside the wooden doors to be collected, not by her parents of course, it would never be them unless something went terribly wrong. She was staring out at the graveyard when she heard the strong main hall door open. ‘India?’ It was the headmistress of the school. India knew she had to show a bit of respect, so she turned to look her principal in the eye, ‘Yes, Miss?’ Never breaking eye contact was one of India’s tricks it intimidated the other person, even if the person was an adult.
‘The girls in your dormitory tell me you seem to be upset.’ Of course, none of the worthless fools would answer her back, but they would run to the staff to tell them of her emotions. ‘News travels fast it seems.’ India was not going to give in this easily the headmistress would have to push for information. ‘India what’s wrong? Do tell me, please? I’m here to help.’ India decided against telling her about the letter, she liked the idea of having a secret, it made her fell more important. ‘It’s nothing Miss. I’m just worked up about this weekend and how it will work out.’ That was partially the truth too. ‘You’re going to see your parents aren’t you?’ The principal smiled like it was something to be happy about. People did not know about the strained relationship between India and her parents, they put on a good show while in the public eye. India smiled, ‘Yes, I’m going to see my parents.’




Chapter 4



Síofra Naughton



After an agonising fifty-five minute journey listening to a moany driver, who spent the duration of the trip asking her about school and pontificating about the merits of working hard at school; and droning on about the weather. India was grateful for the opportunity to leave the confined space and to stretch her legs. She stepped out of the taxi into the light flooding from the open doors of the Shelbourne Hotel, a beautiful red brick building on St. Steven’s Green.



India was greeted by the hotel manager, Mr. Fielding. He was dressed in a dapper suit with gold nametag pinned to his lapel.

“Take her bags,” he barked at the bellboy, and then in his most pleasant welcoming tone,

“Welcome Miss Le Bas, your usual room is unfortunately already occupied, would you like anything sent up to you?”

India declined politely.



She was in Dublin to meet her parents. They were coming to see her for the first time since they had sent her off to school, three months previously. Mid term had come and gone and she had been looking forward to this get together for weeks. Her parents were busy working for the U.N. in New York and it was difficult for them to find time to visit her.



She walked in past the large white marble pillars flanking the doorway and stood in the brightly lit foyer. As she waited at the reception she admired the sparkling of the chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Completing the check in form with her name but she hesitated over the address field, not knowing what to fill in. Mr. Fielding noticing her pause helpfully, but to her embarrassment, suggested her school address. She quickly scrawled as colour rushed to her cheeks. She collected her key card and moved on.



India took the black and gold banistered stairs to the fourth floor. She stepped out into a richly carpeted hallway into which the heels of her Louboutins sank with every step. The abstract paintings at three-meter intervals were mesmerising. She unlocked room 412, The Princess Grace Suite, with her key card and with a satisfying click the door swung open. She stepped into the cool air of the marble foyered suite, greeted by the smell of gardenia. After tipping the bellboy, she dropped down onto her bed and flicked onto MTV.



The familiar ring tone of her iPhone sounded, she scooped it up to see the picture of her mum flashing. She muted Lady Gaga singing Bad Romance.

“Hello,” India blurted excitedly, “Mum, are you on your way? Where are you?”

to her disappointment she heard the voice of her mother’s PA,

“India, hello this is Susan, I’m sorry to inform you that your parents will be unable to reach Dublin this weekend. An emergency summit meeting in Kyoto has cropped up. They send their apologies and hope to organise a meeting at a later date.”

She said in a monotonous voice.

“Oh,”

India said trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice

“That’s fine, we’ll hopefully they’ll be able to come next month, around Christmas maybe? Alright, goodbye.”



She dropped her phone to the bed with a dull thud. Crestfallen that her parents had been summoned to yet another emergency U.N. meeting, they had let her down again which really upset her. This seemed to happen more frequently as she attempted to make more contact with them.



There was only one thing for it she decided. She grabbed her purse, phone and key card and leaving her room. She walked out of the hotel and down towards Grafton Street. She stopped to look in the windows of Jigsaw and bought a bunch of freesia from the flower sellers on the corner of Harry Street. Freesia were her favourite flower, she loved their smell. She stepped into BT2 and breathed a sigh reducing her stress levels greatly. Retail therapy is all she needed, after the purchase of a pair of skinnies and a new cashmere sweater. This made her feel immensely better.



India then proceeded down to Temple Bar to check out the cool little vintage stores to search for a cute 1950s style dress, instead she picked up a stylish blue trilby and a pair of vintage sued moccasins to match her skinny jeans.



India left the final store feeling considerably better but still with a knot of anxiety in her chest. There was only one thing she could think of to alleviate the unease she felt. Twenty minutes later she was sitting very happily in a hair and nail salon on Upper O’Connell Street; her finger nails being tended to by a lovely Asian nail technician called Tsukkio. She loved the look of her nails painted with Tiffany’s Box Blue.



Retail therapy had done the trick. She picked up a super sized McChicken meal deal and large chocolate milkshake and brought them back to her opulent suite. She was careful not to run into Mr. Fielding as she passed through the foyer. She got into her p.j.s and sat in bed munching and slurping and watching MTV. Surprisingly she slept well and woke up and got ready to head back to school.



India sat in the foyer, with her back to the entrance, waiting for her taxi to arrive. She flicking through Vanity Fair, she distinctly heard her name mentioned and strained to hear the rest of the sentence

“Excuse me, can you deliver this to Miss India Le Bas in suite 412.”

India whipped her head around flicking her hair. A bellboy was passing between her and the reception, momentarily obstructing her vision of the front desk. As he passed she saw the hotel receptionist striding towards her, letter in hand. He presented it to her.

“A letter for you Miss Le Bas.”

He said grinning broadly.

“Erm, thank you may I ask who delivered this?”

“A man with brown hair and quite young”

And that was the extent of the description he could give her.

How did he know my suite number? My usual suite had been taken, I had been moved to another suite none of my friends had known I had changed suite.

She thought to herself perplexed. She strode out of the hotel letter in hand. She got into the awaiting taxi. It was written on the same thick card like paper. She slid her finger under the seal and tore it open.


\hapter 6: (Lesley)


The signs were all written in Chinese? India was not very sure. She walked up the right side of the street. The shop fronts were all decorated with different colour neon signs. They were red, pink, blue and colours India could not even describe. She stood dazzled by this part of the town she never knew existed. It was just what she needed an alternate world to forget about her school and her parents, as nothing here could possibly remind her of them.
                                             
‘Come look, come buy.’ India turned startled. She turned in the direction of the voice. Behind her stood a woman as dark as the night, India had to find the woman’s eyes before the rest of her body came into focus. The woman stood expectantly, waiting for India’s answer. In this part of town, at this time of night, when nobody knew where she was India could think of only one answer.  ‘Okay, I’ll look, but I’ll hold off on the buying for now.’

The lady led India to a shop about ten foot behind them. It was lit up with what must have been a thousand little light bulbs hanging around the shop front window. The little lights sparkled and twinkled, creating miniature rainbows in India’s vision. It was magical, like the lady had captured faeries and put them on display. ‘You like the outside, you should come and she the inside.’
     
‘I’m not sure anything can top your window.’ India blurted out, not knowing what else to say.
     
‘I think you’ll be surprised.’ With that the woman opened the door to the shop. More light than India could have expected shone out through the door. The effect was enhanced by the white walls and white marble floor. The room looked otherworldly. ‘Why so many lights?’ India inquired, staring puzzled at the glow. The woman’s answer was simple ‘Why not?’
                                               
The shop was filled with little origami shapes. Paper cranes on multicoloured strings hung from the ceiling, balloon shapes were pinned to the walls and other shapes India did not recognise were all over the shop. She noticed baskets filled with flower petals on shelves and jars filled with an array of coloured liquids. The smell in the shop was sweet but with a musky hint. The petals mixed with the dried wood and grass, which was now coming into view on another counter.                       
     
‘What do you sell?’ India was an interested buyer now. The shops light and smell encouraged her to be enticed into buying. 
                                                               
‘You select your favourite fragrances and I blend them into perfume. It’s a simple job. You have the hard part.’ The woman gestured with her hand over all the different baskets, the lights making the petals vibrant colours. India went to pick some petals, but the woman grabbed her hand, ‘You stand here and breath in, the scents will call you to them.’ 
           
That was exactly what India did, she in the centre of the shop and took a deep breath, to her surprise the lady’s trick worked. India found herself heading towards the back of the shop, she picked up a handful of small white petals and glanced back at the woman for some help on what to do next. ‘Orange blossom, very nice. Maybe choose one more. It mightn’t be strong enough on it’s own.’
       
Once again India closed her eyes and took a breath. She walked over about two metres and was disappointed to see the plant that had attracted her attention looked like grass. She picked it up anyway. The lady nodded with her head for her to follow, so India did. The lady led her to a counter, painted white as well to reflect the light. ’Orange Blossom and Lemongrass, how lovely, wait here and I’ll bring your perfume to you in a few minutes. I have the fragrances already mixed out the back.’
   
India waited, she was aching to wear her new perfume. It smelt so good and made her feel lighter for some strange reason. She gazed around making mental pictures of the shop. She was going to bring her parents her someday, whenever they got back from work for a decent amount of time. 
                                                               
The lady returned with a purple bottled that faded into blue at the bottom and handed it to India. ‘Thank you. How much is it?’
        ‘
'Whatever you have at the moment to give me.’ India had ten Euro in her pocket, she grabbed it and handed it to the lady. ‘This is too much.’ the woman went to give the money back. India declined, ‘You said whatever I had to give you. Well I have this.’
     
The woman beamed, her white teeth standing out against her dark skin. India placed the bottle in the small paper bag the woman had given her and headed for the door.

Outside the night had become darker, the sky sea of midnight blue. India checked her phone for a time, it was only eleven. She turned in a circle surveying her surroundings there were a few take-out restaurants open and the appetising smell coming from them made India realise how hungry she was. Her head told her to wait and get something back at the hotel, but her stomach did not want to wait and it won the battle. 
                                     
She choose the only take-out that seemed to have a menu in English. Reading the menu made India realise something, it did not matter that the menu was in English, she still did not know what any of the dishes were. Going with the safe option of noodles, India ordered in her best English-Chinese and returned to the seats to wait for her order to be ready.
                                                                 
With nothing better to do India took out her perfume and removed the lid. It smelt magnificent, she wanted to put it on her clothes so she could smell it constantly, but then she thought about becoming immune to the scent after a while and decided against that idea. She sighed and put the lid back on the bottle. ’Noodles?’ India glanced up.
     
‘There mine.’ She grabbed the noodles and headed outside. The air was warm, inviting India to sit on the curb and eat her noodles on the street. She did just that, using the miniature plastic spoon that was taped to the lid of the box. India checked the street again, she noticed a group of people, possibly her age, walking up the street towards her. She dropped her head into her noodle box then decided she did not want to seem vulnerable, so looked up at the oncoming group. One of the group was staring straight at her, she stared back at him but he did not back, it seemed to encourage him. He hit the arm of a taller, lankier blonde haired boy beside him and they made their way over to her.
                       
The himself was not short, it was just the presence of his friend that gave this illusion. India noted his clothes, a pair of grey tracksuit bottoms and a checked black and blue hoodie, no designer labels. He had a red stripe in his hair running from the top front left side of his head, to the back bottom right, the rest of his hair was a light, woody brown. He did not look like the kind of person that smiled a lot, but India noticed that his eyes seemed to sparkle, they were blue? 
   
‘What’s the criac?’ Yes his eyes were definitely blue, now he was close enough that India could clarify this assumption. It took her a moment to realise that he was talking to her. 
         
‘Just eating noodles.’ He found this very funny and for some reason so did his friend. India got irritated by this, she was eating noodles after all, so she did not find it that funny. ‘Do you want something?’ She spit out, illustrating her irritation.
         
‘Just a chat.’ He shrugged his shoulders as if it were a question he was waiting for her to answer. India thought about it. She was out at night-late, she was not quite sure of exactly where she was and she was eating noodles. India decided that she could really get more out of her depth. She looked at the pointedly, ‘And you are?’   
       
‘Jared and this is Antony.’ Jared gestured with his thumb towards the blonde. ‘Nice to meet you.’ Antony stuck out his hand and Jared dropped his face into his hands, showing his discontent at Antony’s action. India glanced at Antony’s hand and then began eating her noodles again, not reciprocating the handshake. Jared laughed like it was the funniest thing he had ever seen. He broke his laugh off with a great effort. 
         
‘You are?’ India knew he was talking to her, but finished eating her noodles before acknowledging his question.
                                                       
‘Why should I tell you?’ She was not giving up her name that easily, she barely knew these guys. Jared seemed unfazed.
   
‘Can I call ya ‘you’ for short?’ It annoyed her that he was not bother whether she gave her name or not. 
 
‘India’

‘Nice country, never been though.’
   
‘No. India that’s my name.’ He studied her for a moment, to make sure she was not lying. Coming to a decision, he smiled making his eyes sparkle more, they did not seem like they belonged in his face. ‘India.’

They sat there for a while, Jared, Antony and India. Antony made small talk with her while Jared just sat and stared into space. Every now and then he would glance at India. She could not help feel he was listening to the conversation more intently then he let on. India was right, as Antony ran out of information about himself and started talking about Jared, he stood up and looked at his watch. 
                       
‘Antony, come on, or were gonna be late.’ Antony looked torn, he scratched his head. 
               
‘Can India come too?’ This took Jared by surprise, apparently Antony was not suppose to ask questions. Jared contemplated this, then stood staring straight at India, eyes searching for any uncertainties that her face might betray.
           
’You up for a party India? It doesn’t seem like your kinda thing. Just to warn ya.’ He never broke eye contact, trying to intimidate her. He picked the wrong person to try this on, India had been using the technique since she was a toddler. She stood and ran her palms down the front of her trousers. ‘I can handle a party. Lets go.’

Jared led the way and India follow. He made a left, a left and then a right. India recognised the street they were on from the news. ‘Doesn’t David Norris live on this street?’ Her question was left unanswered, so she just kept walking. The street was lined with Georgian houses, like the ones she had learned about in history. They were red bricked, but the frames of the doors and windows were painted different colours giving each house its individuality.
                                                     
‘This is our palace.’ Jared informed her, ‘aint it loverly?’ He had a mock accent on and India knew he was joking. The house looked terrible. The red brick had faded to a lighter, less fresh red and the door was three planks of wood. The house was the ugly duckling of the street- it had potential to be beautiful, it was just neglect that made it look like this, India thought. 
       
‘India! Come on!’ Antony was calling her, while Jared just kept walking. He was heading around the back of the house. India followed, feeling like Antony was the only one who wanted her here. The back of the house matched the front, the garden was overgrown and the backdoor was made from planks of wood.
       
‘How do we get in?’ India questioned.

‘Simple,’ Jared creaked a window open, ‘like this.’ He climbed in through it and India and Antony promptly followed.
                                                 
They walked through the house and up two flights of stairs to what seemed to be an attic. The room was full of people, the ones from the group that had disappeared earlier. India noted that most of them were girls.
           
The room was decorated with a few poufs and a deteriorated sofa. There was a table in the centre of the room which everyone was gathered around. Jared strode straight over and pushed his way close to the table. It had lines of white powder going up and down it. India moved closer and when she Jared bend down with a rolled five Euro note in his hand , she realised what the white powder was. India glanced at Antony for kind of answer, he shrugged his shoulders, like this was normal behaviour. Maybe for Jared this was, India thought.
       
‘Jared. I’ve to go now, Mum’ll start to worry.’ Antony boomed across the room. Jared waved his hand as in a dismissing manor and Antony took his cue to leave. India was left in a room full of people she was not sure she wanted to know. She took a seat on the, which for the moment was unoccupied.
               
‘You look lost. I warned you.’ Jared stood over her.
   
‘Just wondering why you’re not rushing home like Antony?’ This question seemed to throw him a bit. He glanced around the room, then sat down beside her on the sofa.
   
‘This is my home most of the time.’ He was telling the truth, India got that by the way he would not look at her as he was telling her.
       
‘You live here? Hmm. Why?’ 

‘Cause the home I’m supposed to be in is frequently visited by the Guards. They can’t find me here. So I stay here most of the time. I have to check in every now and then.’
       
‘Home? Check in?’ India knew she might be pushing to far, but she was going to push as far as a she could.
         
‘Yeah, I’m an-’ He took a pause to swallow, ‘sorry the word is weird to say out loud. I’m an orphan. I live in a foster home near Antony’s house. I hate it.’
     
India was stuck for words. How did you follow that? She took a moment by sweeping her gaze around the room. ‘So you come here and do this-’ She swept her hand over the people, ‘Drugs and whatever else. It’s not going to make your life any better is it? If you do this then your always goin’ to be stuck in that foster home.’
   
‘No I won’t. I can leave when I’m eighteen.’

‘And what to plan on doing. You need education in more than drugs to get a job.’
He had no answer for that. India thought she had went to far and stood to leave.
           
Jared grabbed her wrist and pulled her back down. ‘I suppose your right. I don’t know what I’m goin’ to do, so that’s why I do this. If I go to jail, I don’t have to worry about life.’
                       
India sat there. She had no way to comfort him, he did not seem like the kind of person who liked to be hugged and she was not the kind of person who hugged either.
                     
‘But anyway, forget all that. Drink?’ India was relieved at the new conversation topic.

‘Yeah, a drink would be nice, please.’ Jared nodded and went to get the drink.
       
He was back before India had time to blink, with two plastic blue cups. He handed one to India and took a sip from the other one himself.
     
‘So what’s your story? Why was someone like you in Chinatown in the middle of the night?’ India took a drink and answered.
     
‘I got lost. I don’t know the city that well.’

‘Ah. Just up for a visit then? Here to see the sights.’ India did not want to explain her whole story to him, so she took the easy way out.
     
‘Yeah, here to see the sights.’

‘Your lying, but f you don’t want to tell me it’s fine.’ For a guy who had no clue about his own life, he could really notice the problems in other people’s. India did not know why, but she told him the truth.
                                                 
‘I was suppose to see my parents this weekend and same as usual they didn’t show, so I have been wandering the streets of Dublin buying things I don’t need just to use their cards. I also got a stalker letter which, until now my retail therapy had done a great job of making me forget about. And worst of all I’m sitting in what seems to be a squat telling some random lad I’ve never met before about all the things that are bothering me.’

     ‘India, breathe.’ She did and she felt better, also suddenly quite tired. Jared appeared to have moved closer to her on the sofa. She noticed he had freckles, not that many though.  ‘What was the letter about?’
   ‘Me. The person knew all about-’ India could not keep her eyes open. She went against her total instinct and lay against Jared. 
    ‘You-’ He finished her sentence, ‘the person knew all about you.’

India sat up, it took her a moment to remember where she was. She took out her phone to check the time, it was eleven in the morning. She checked the room, there was no one there. India did not remember falling asleep, but obviously she had. She looked beside her and saw a small scrap of paper with something scrawled on it. India picked it up.  Sorry about the drink, Jared. He drugged her, India felt betrayed. She had trusted him and he drugged her.
                                                       
She made her way down the flights of stairs, along the long hall and was about to climb out through the window when she noticed something. Flitting in the draft of the window, there was a letter pinned to the wall. India took it and placed it in the bag with her perfume. She left the house and began walking the streets back to the hotel.




 Chapter 7 Síofra Naughton

 
 
India was woken by a shaft of light beaming through the gap in the planks of wood that had been used to board up the window.  The light beamed directly into her eyes blinding her momentarily.  She lifted her hand to shield her eyes and inhaled deeply.  Her senses were assaulted by the smell of smoke, beer and stale sweat.
 
India looked around to see a dingy room with slanted ceilings and mould growing in one corner; obviously an attic bedroom.  Her head was pounding and her mouth felt like sand paper.  She was so dehydrated she felt she could drink a gallon of water.
 
The walls at one stage must have been an off white, but now were a grey tinged yellow.  The stained wooden floor was covered in an array of sleeping bags, couch cushions and a few battered mattresses.  All the make shift beds were covered with a diverse group of teenagers; ages ranging between thirteen and twenty.  India sat up and immediately regretted her action.  Her head started to spin and she felt a horrible wave of nausea.  Where was she?  What was she doing here?  It was coming back to her she had a vague recollection of arriving in a large Georgian building with “A”.  The house, which from the outside appeared to match the adjacent houses perfectly, but inside all the rooms were bare and dilapidated, with the exception of the kitchen. The kitchen was furnished with an assortment of furniture ranging from second hand patio furniture to old beer kegs.  Crowded around, three portable barbeques, which appeared to be the only source of heat.  The floor was littered with empty beer cans and cigarette butts.  India woke in the shared attic bedroom on the forth floor.  There were thirteen permanent squatters and another ten or so young people who were just passing through.  Mostly they were looking for somewhere warm and dry to stay during these cold winter months.
 
India gathered her coat and bag from the floor and navigated through the sea of bodies to the door.  She tried her best not to make any noise.  She did not want to have to make excuses for sneaking away.  She wanted to escape the embarrassment of the previous night.  She opened the door a crack and slipped out of the room without making a sound and began to descend to the entrance hall.
 
The door swung shut behind her and she managed to catch it just before it slammed.  She stepped out into the cool crisp morning air and inhaled deeply in an effort to clear her head.  She reached into her pocket to get her phone to call Mr. Fluffy, her driver.
“Damn it!”
Her phone was missing.  She tried to remember where she had it last. Her recollection was hazy. She vaguely recalled dropping it in the kitchen; somewhere between her fourth and eighth beer.  India pushed the heavy front door open. She winced at the sound of the creaking hinges.  She crept through the entrance hallway, past the empty rooms.  She noticed the fancy plasterwork running around the border of the ceiling.  She thought,
 
These rooms must have been very grand long ago, but look at them now, dark, dingy holes for squatters to hide in. 
 
India ducked under the low doorframe into the kitchen.  She grabbed her phone from under the battered sofa.  There was a girl lying on it, passed out, her head lolling over the side.  As she crept back past the stairs she heard people beginning to stir so she sprinted past the main living room and hauled the door open letting it slam behind her. Immediately she regretted this, as the sound felt like a train crashing through her head.
 
She slumped back against the door. 
 
“I’m never going to drink again.” she muttered under her breath. 
 
Behind her head she felt a rustling of paper.  She turned and there was that same white envelope.  It was trapped between the lion head knocker and the door.  She could have sworn it had not been there less than a minute ago when she had gone to retrieve her phone.  India tugged it out.  While scrolling through her numbers looking for Mr. Fluffy’s number and descending the four steps she crashed head first into a girl.  She was wearing a black ‘Iron Fist’ jumper and the left side of her head shaven.  She stared India down for what seemed like a long time, but it must only have been a few seconds.  India blinked and glanced down at her phone, as she looked back up she saw the girl striding away. 
 
What was wrong with me? 
 
India never broke eye contact first.  She was known to have a stare that could bore into your soul.  She never backed down first.  These letters were unsettling her.  She was losing her nerve.
 
India shoved the envelope deep into her pocket.  She was not going to let this affect her.  She strode down the road past the James Joyce museum.  As India approached an old fashioned lamppost, something caught her eye.  At the foot of the post there was a small square white paper with a black square in the centre. 
 
A Polaroid!
 
She scooped it up and flipped it over. She looked closer and dropped it in shock.  It was a picture of her from yesterday.  It was taken as she was turning the corner of North Great Georges Street.  She was wearing the same clothes as now, but considerably better presented. 
 
This scared her more than all the letters put together.  She reached into her pocket and pulled out the letter, and placed the photo with it, before returning it.
 
This is the last straw
 
She knew that she had to confide in someone.  She put her phone to her ear and said,
 
“Hey, Mr. Fluffy, I need you to pick me up.”

    

Chapter 8 - (Peter)

(The first letter was a great success. I was as excited as a small child as I observed her reaction, but now I needed another. Perhaps I could write her a poem this time? I scrawled the word “India” in the margin of my new note pad, hoping it would inspire some poetic sentiment in me, but since nothing came to mind, I gave up, tore the page out, and started a new letter.)

Dear India,

I loved watching you read my first letter. It made my heart flutter to think that I had at last shown you a token of my appreciation, a sign of how much I care about you, that I had finally let you know how I felt. I’ve thought about doing this for so long, and I put so much effort into that letter. I really hope you liked it.

(This letter was coming to me so much more easily than the last one. The fact that I was a little bit better off financially probably helped, giving me as it did a new internal confidence. There was also a lot more to write about this time.)

May I just say, before we get to the main point of this letter, that your retail choices are excellent? That cashmere sweater is lovely. What do you think of Tsukkio? She’s very nice, isn’t she? I’ve never actually talked to her, but she seems like a wonderful person. I was, however, disappointed to see eating a chicken burger. I thought you were vegan. I always liked that about you.

(That was a real question. I was sure that she was vegan before that day. I didn’t particularly care about veganism, but I was curious as to what made her change her mind, or if I had been wrong about her being vegan in the first place.)

That graveyard is a very relaxing place, isn’t it? Whenever I feel like life is getting too much for me, I go there and just let go of all my bad emotions. I think it’s good for us to remember that however many mistakes we make, all of them will be forgiven when we’re six feet under. It makes me feel free. Perhaps it’s the same for you?

(Maybe I should write my next letter whilst in the graveyard? I weighed up the pros and cons of the idea, and then decided that it was best to see how she reacted to this one before making any plans for another future letter.)

In all the time I’ve been watching you, though, I haven’t seen you follow through with my instructions in my last letter. This is very disappointing. In fact, I don’t think I have even seen you talking to the people in question. This hurts me almost as deeply as it hurts them. But I am willing to be generous, to give your actions the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps you have a good reason for acting as you have.

(Now, this was the hard part. I really wanted to get a reply from her, so I didn’t want to scare her too much, but I also wanted to make sure she took me seriously. Hand writing these letters was starting to really annoy me, because it meant I couldn’t change anything once it was written down without starting over again. That meant that I had to be sure of what I was writing before I put it on paper)

However, if you do have a good reason for acting as you have done, then I need to have that reason explained to me. Believe me; the consequences will be unpleasant if they are not. So please respond to this letter in writing. I’ve seen you write so many letters to your grandmother and it is a wonderful talent you have. I would dearly love to see what kind of letter you would write to me. Leave it in the place you find this letter. I will find a way of collecting it.

(Hard part over, I was starting to feel hungry. Should I go and have lunch, or was I supposed to finish it in one sitting? Did it really matter? I wasn’t sure, but somehow it felt rude to just leave things as they were. I felt I had to see it through to the end right then and there, even though there was no logical reason to feel that way.)

Please, India, never think of me in a bad way. I love almost everything about you from the bottom of my heart and nothing in the world could ever change that fact. I am not asking anything that would be that hard for someone of your intelligence, beauty and persuasive ability. You have seemed, at times during these past few days, to doubt yourself. Don’t. You don’t need to. Do things as you think they should be done and I am sure that everything will work out for the best for you. Trust me. I trust you.

(Huh. “Trust me”. I liked that. It summed up everything I was trying to convey with my letters, the ones I had already sent and the ones I planned to send in the future. I decided to keep using it in all future letters I sent)

You remain and hopefully always will remain, one of the most beautiful and genuine people I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. It is you who will come up with a solution to the problem we have at hand, not me. I can only guide you on your way towards. Remember, no matter what happens, I am your loyal and unwavering friend.

Yours Truly,

X

(Just as I finished the letter, I had the idea of changing my handwriting to make the letters impossible to trace. It was a great idea, but it was now too late to do it without starting over and I couldn’t stand having to start again. I really hate doing things twice. Looking back over it the letter I had written, I realised that my increased confidence this time around had actually shown through in my penmanship, which actually made it look as though I had changed my handwriting- as far as I could remember; this letter and the last one should be unrecognizable.

Writing the first letter had been a stressful business, full of what ifs and worries of not being taken seriously. This one had been a lot more fun. I was really hitting my stride and things were sometimes coming to me faster than I could put pen to paper. Cackling maniac? Not yet. But I was getting closer. And I just knew that when I got there, I was going to love every minute of it.)
                            
 

Chapter 9-Anna Graham

“KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK”
India woke up with a pounding headache.
“What  happened last night?” She wondered, resting her head in her hands. She looked around the dark room. She recognised but three of the twenty people crashed out on the floor from yesterday.

“There an India here?” A young man about twenty called out. India’s head jolted up.
“That’s me” she said, her voice soft.
“Some old guy at the door for you” he said, gesturing to the door with a swift nod of his head. India furrowed her brow in confusion. No one knew she was here. She looked toward the scruffy lad for something more, but he was busy entangled in an equally as scruffy girl. She grabbed her Paul’s Boutique bag as she stood up, she didn’t trust these people alone with it.

As she advanced through the musty room, navigating around sleeping bodies, nursing nagons of cheap vodka she grew ever more curious of her mysterious visitor. As she passed the scruffy couple she got a lung full of cheap weed. She spluttered so hard that she spewed all over the dark stained rug.

The scruffy lad detached himself and looked from India to the floor and back.
“I’ll pay for that to be cleaned” India said looking him up and down in return.
“You’re grand, princess. Not my gaff, I won’t tell” He winked. She glared back.
The heavy door was opened a crack, allowing a streak of sunlight in, interrupt the darkness. She pulled the door open slowly, wondering who she’d see.

“Ready to go, Miss?” India’s favourite driver asked, surveying her estranged appearance. Her normally primed-to-perfection hair, now carelessly falling out of a low bun, a mix of fresh and stale of vomit in her fringe. He shuddered.
“Fluffy?! What are you doing here? How did you know where I was?” India asked talking faster than usual.

Nigel Huntington let out a deep sigh. He sighed for two reasons, both to show frustration. Frustration at the demeaning nickname thrust upon him by India shortly after there first meeting. He thought she would grow out of it but it remained constant. The name originated from the first time India noticed he wore fluffy socks on cold winter days. It was endearing the first time, but after years of it being barked at him, it made him bitter.

The other reason he sighed was because of India’s blatant stupidity.
“You texted me the address, telli-asking me to pick you up” Nigel realized then how strange it was for India to ask for something, she always took things for granted.
“No I didn’t” She looked at him quizzically.

“It’s in my inbox, India, do you want to check it?” he  enunciated each syllable, growing weary of her dismissive attitude. India wasn’t used to been given tough love. This is why she liked Fluffy, he never sucked up to her because of who her parents were, he was genuine with her, she could trust him.  
“Pleeeeease” She said with a smarmy grin.

He sighed once again and delved into the right pocket of his black trousers, taking out an old nokia phone and handing it to India. She laughed arrogantly.
“How do you survive with this old dinosaur?” she said through laughter.
“I survive just fine thank you”

“Hah” India blurted as she navigated through the out of date phone. She got to inbox and saw the first message labelled ’India’. It read:  
“Hey, can you collect me from 48 Capel street please? J If you can’t I’ll just get a taxi”

“I don’t remember sending this” She said, confused.

“Maybe you had a bit too much to drink, I mean how much of last night do you actually remember?” He raised his eyebrow, knowing he was right.
“Just take my bag” she said, dumping her bag in his arms.
They both stood there for a second before she gestured to the door, which he then opened with a mock bow “Your majesty”
She chuckled before flouncing onto the black leather seat, which she had sat in so many times.

As they pulled off, she looked at the house which held a night of mystery.
She knew she didn’t send that text. She didn’t text like that. If she had of sent that it would have looked like this;
“PiCK MeE UpP @tt 48 Capel StEeEet !!”
And it couldn’t have been the drunkness, that would have made her texting worse. She took her phone out and texted Heidi if her school uniform was clean. She got Heidi to wash it for her when she was at home, because India was far to busy to do it herself.

She then checked her outbox to make sure she didn’t send any embarrassing texts while drunk. The first message was one she sent to herself. She opened it up and the colour drained from her face.
“I sent it. I didn’t want you to anything else bad. X”
She had so many questions.

What bad thing did she do?
How did he know who to send the message to? It was marked under Fluffy. No one knew she called him Fluffy. That would have shown her sweet, innocent side, and that was something she certainly did not want showing.
Was he at the party the whole time? She didn’t remember seeing anyone with brown hair, everyone’s hair was dyed crazy colours.
How often did he watch her?
Was he watching her now?

“Beep Beep” she got a text in, she opened it.
“Yes”
She screamed and threw her phone to the floor. Fluffy jammed the breaks on.
“Bloody hell India! What?!”
Her hand shook as she bent to pick up he phone. She looked at the screen again. She looked at the number it came from. Heidi! It was in reply to the uniform question! India laughed hystericaly for a good five minutes.
“What are you playing at?” Fluffy bellowed.
“Oh, it’s a long story” She sniggered.

“Ok”
“Well if you insist” She continued to tell him the whole story, starting with the first letter and ending with the text from Heidi. He sighed.
“You think everyone’s in love with you, you’re just being paranoid”
“I’m not! You should see the letters! He says I’m beautiful and smart but cruel”
“Hah, he knows his stuff” Fluffy is so sweet, she thought to herself.
“I think he’s watching me”
“Everyone is watching you India”
“You don’t understand!”
“Of course I don’t, how could a mere mortal like understand the complications of your perfect life!”
“It’s not perfect, it’s far from perfect” Tears started to fall down her pink cheeks. Fluffy sighed, as much as she annoyed him, he hated seeing her upset. He turned around and put his hand on her knee.
“There’s nothing to worry about darling. No one’s stalking you. I’m your driver, I’d notice someone following us” He said with a quick wink before turning around, hiring the radio and driving away again.

She stared out the window. She grew suspicious of every boy or butch girl with brown hair. She thought of the text he sent to Fluffy. He was polite and nice to him. He was showing her the way she should treat him. But still, the way she treated Fluffy wasn’t cruel, it was rude, but never cruel.
“Hey, Fluffy do you think I’m cruel?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Well, X said--”
“I don’t want to hear anymore about this X character, yah hear?”
 “I hear yah” She said frowning.

If Fluffy wasn’t going to help, who would?
The car pulled up the long winding drive way of the school. India wondered if X was here, hiding in the shadows, or inside, in her dorm. Maybe he would come later. Maybe he followed them all the way from Dublin. Wherever he was, she knew he would be watching her.


Chapter 10 - Amalia

 India could see Mr. Fluffy through the windshield, he’d pulled up the bonnet of the car and was inspecting the engine. She heard a series of clatters and clanks, and grumbles coming from Mr. Fluffy, so she assumed his efforts were proving to be unsuccessful.
            Inside the air was thick and stuffy, making it difficult for India to think. The confined space seemed to be filling up with the menacing words she had read, they were trying to smother her. India was submerged in the writer’s thoughts. She had to get out.
            India heaved the car door open and stumbled out of the back seat. The air was so light it almost made her dizzy, it smelt of grass and rain. Quickly, she shut the door before any of the thoughts could follow her.
 
            It was quiet. Mr. Fluffy had walked a little way down the road and seemed to be attempting to find a signal to call someone. When she looked around her she realised how clear the space around her was. There was no traffic, no concrete footpaths, no alarms or horns or shouts. There weren’t even bobble-headed minions or pristine private school grounds.  Everything was open, even the grey sky.
 
            But the thoughts started to creep back. India knew she had to tell someone. She wanted to tell someone. And then a thought struck her; the India at St. Endalines didn’t go to people for help or confide in them. Did the India in the city? So who was she here, in the middle of nowhere, in-between her two lives?
            She wondered if somewhere there was a place where the real India belonged.
But it wasn’t here. So she drew up a new character, someone well spoken like the girls at St. Endalines, but someone who was in used to being control, perhaps she was even a bit obstinate. This girl was just trying to deal with a problem. But after all she had to make it believable, so maybe the girl was bothered a bit.
 
Mr. Fluffy came back and leaned against the side of the car.
            “No luck, I’m afraid,” he informed her “We’ll most likely have to wait.”
India glanced over at her driver. He seemed reliable enough, besides he probably thought he had to put up with whatever she said to keep his job. He knew about her parents.

“It’s quite cold out here, isn’t it?” she asked, hypothetically.
“Would you like to go back in the car, Miss La Bas?” Mr. Fluffy asked her.
This was not the response she was looking for. India hesitated for a moment, and then assured herself.
There were distant lights on the horizon. The November afternoons were shrinking.
“It’s feels sort of safe here,” she began, measuring her words “Don’t you think?”
He appeared to be paying attention, so she continued.
“I seems as if I haven’t felt this safe in ages,” she told him, but really she was wondering of she’d ever been safe at all.
Mr. Fluffy took the hint “Is there something troubling you, Miss La Bas? You don’t seem your usual self.”

If she let her guard down her voice might shake. She might lose it. So India thought of her character, she removed herself from the story and imagined it was like something she heard on the news. Like she was telling him fifty-six whales had washed up on the coast of New Zealand.
“Well actually, something has been weighing on my mind lately. I don’t want to alarm you, but I think someone may be trying to harm me.”
She imagined her character lived in that place where the clustered lights were shining.

“I’ve been getting these letters, sinister letters. I don’t know what they want from me, or what they think I’ve done wrong. I just know that I may be endangered.”
Mr. Fluffy remained composed. “Have you told anyone?”
“No. Not aside from you,” She looked him in the eye “, and I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t tell anyone else. I would just like some advice.”
“I’m sure you understand that this is serious, so my advice would be to tell someone you trust. Someone you can tell the whole truth to-”
India thought. No one came to mind.

“-You’re parents, the headmistress, a friend.”
India realised that telling the headmistress would be just as useless as confiding in her mother or father. If she were to go missing the teachers would just turn a blind eye, trying to stay on the good side of her parents. What would they do if she told the headmistress? Probably tell everyone in the school to be on the look out, and then the minions would never leave her alone.

India must have looked hesitant because Mr. Fluffy added:
“You seem to be a smart girl. If you really want to get rid of this person/these people you should go to the police. Give them the letters, I’m sure they could dust for fingerprints or analyse the writing.”
 
Evening was beginning to creep up on the November afternoon, and the lights on the horizon were brightening. Her character lived there with a proper family and proper friends. That girl had tons people she could trust, tons of people that were dying to help her. India was beginning to feel a little jealous of this character. She realised it was ridiculous, resenting a role she was playing.
India wondered if she really wanted the letters to stop. It was nice, after all, to have someone so dedicated to her for a change. Someone watching her every move.
 
“Do you think I’m at risk?” she asked the driver.
He didn’t know.

“Thank you Mister Fluffy,” she smiled as a car appeared. She saw his moustache twitch in what she guessed was annoyance.

“I’ll go see if they can help us, you can go back in the car Miss La Bas.”
India pulled the car door back open and got inside. She sunk into the leather seats and cast away her character. She didn’t need her anymore, now that she knew her options.
 
Soon they were driving down the Kilkenny roads once again. India wondered if St. Endalines would look the same when she returned, or would she see the cracks in the old turrets and the all imperfections she never noticed before. She looked back to the spot where they had stopped and saw a red van driving in the other direction. But as they edged further and further away her feeling of security began to dwindle. And just as the spot vanished from view she thought she heard Mr. Fluffy mutter to himself:

“Nice man in the other car back there. Seemed sort of familiar, you know. Quite young, brown hair.”
 

 
 
Chapter 11 (Hannah)
 
                                                       
 India had arrived back at school. “Im, fine” thought India, “everythings fine, no one is going to hurt you”. India realised that she was becoming paranoid. The letters had become more sinister, India felt as if she would burst. She just couldn’t keep these letters secret anymore, India had to tell someone. India flopped on her bed, the bedsprings creaked and there was a strange crackling sound almost like scrunched up paper. “What! Are people hiding things in my bed now” India grumbled. India lifted up her duvet and found a photo, closer inspection showed a photo of India at the party.

India had been staring straight into the camera according to the photo. India didn’t remember any photo’s being taken, she didn’t remember anyone having a camera. Had India met her stalker? India’s hands began to shake, she felt faint.
“ Hi India, you ok?” asked Heidi. India didn’t know why but she ran over to Heidi and gave her a hug. They both sat down , India told Heidi everything. Heidi listened without batting an eyelash, for the first time in her life India felt glad to have Heidi as a friend.

They laughed and joked, Heidi went to call her parents and India went for a walk. The air was crisp but slightly foggy, nothing unusual for autumn in Kildare. India felt her nose sting from the cold , she wrapped her dark brown Burberry Prorsum scarf tighter around her kneck. India saw the graveyard ahead of her, it was barely visible, it looked like a santuary from India’s troubles. Suddenly India got a chill down her spine, it made her hair stand on end.  Was someone watching her? she wondered.... “ Anybody there?” she called out. The fog was becoming thicker like a curtain over a window. India could just make out a pair of feet in black shoes standing beside the grey school building. India began to back away, with each step she took the shoes moved towards her. The fog had completely obscured the rest of the person, therefore India had no idea if the person was male or female as the shoes were unisex. When the shoes were about twenty feet away India turned and ran, her hat and scarf flew off her head but India didn’t look back until she had reached the graveyard gate , her scarf lay about eight feet away, the footsteps became nearer a hand reached down and picked up the matching hat and scarf. The hand was pale with long fingers, it looked like a male hand but India couldn’t be sure. The shoes just stood there , India squealed and fled into the graveyard.

India could just make out the outline of her usual bench, she stumbled towards it, slipped and caught the handle. She picked herself up and sat down shivering. She was scared, this was getting out of hand , “why would someone want to hurt me?” she wondered aloud “What have I done?. India curled up on the bench and wept, she most have dozed off because the next thing she saw was the first year Jenny poking her “Oi , India you alright?”. India replied saying she was fine and that she had dozed off because the graveyard was so peaceful. Jenny began talking about the weather “ foggy to day wasn’t it. This   the last thing India heard before she fainted. The world began to spin. India slipped into darkness.
            

Chapter 13 by Lesley

India held the letter in her hand and continued running with Heidi. ‘What’s that?’ Heidi inquired.


‘I think it’s a letter. It looks important, thought I’d pick it up and bring it back.’ India was not going to let on she knew anything about the letter. Mr. Fluffy was the only one who knew and she intended to keep it that way.


‘Bit of an odd place to leave a letter, don’t ya think?’ India had to restrain herself from telling Heidi to butt out, but she knew if she acted like this Heidi would probably suspect something, she was the brightest of the minions.


The run from the place where India found the letter to the finish line was about a half an hour. Heidi filled the time, when she had breath, with some babble about how your not suppose to talk while running. India nearly laughed at the fact that she was contradicting herself while she was telling the story, but India did not laugh, especially at something one of her minions was telling her. So she held her practiced silence until the finish.


Heidi’s parents were at the finish line waiting for her, along with every other parent except for India’s. India knew it should not bother her so much, that her parents never showed, somehow though it did.
She glanced round at all the proud parents congratulating their children on completing races or taking part in events. Jenny, the first year, was jogging over to her parents after coming to the end of the three legged race. She had barely said ‘hi’ and her Mother crushed her in a bear hug. India watched as jenny’s Dad repeated the same actions as her Mother but with a little less urgency. India was just looking away when jenny caught her eye. She made a gesture with her hand for India to come over. Not wanting to disappoint the first year in front of her parents India obliged. ’Mum, Dad, this is India Lebass. She’s a senior student here in St.Endalines.’ India stretched out her hand.


‘Pleased to meet you.’ She shook hands with both of Jenny’s parents.
Jenny’s parents talked on about the school, India was even starting to enjoy their company until the one topic she did not want talk about came up. ‘Your Parent’s are the Chair people is that correct?’


India internally cringed, ‘Yes, they are.’


‘Bet you get loads of special treatment then?’ Jenny’s Mum made a winky face at India. Stuck for words to say, India laughed nervously. She just stood looking between Jenny’s parents waiting for one of them to say something, but they stood looking at her too.


‘I think it’s time for us to go now. The dinner bookings were made for four, yes?’ India had never liked a first year so much. She swore she would never be as rude to Jenny again. Jenny’s parents and said their goodbyes, then India was left standing alone on the big sports field. There were still a few families hanging around, none she knew, so India headed back to the school.
Walking up the hall to the dormitory India could hear noise. This was the usual affair after sports day. All the girls were hyped up from running, messing and joking with their friends. India walked around the corner, in through the doors and straight to her bed. She dropped down on to it and lay back against the pillow. The noise swelled around her and India was happy to just listen to the voices flowing like water.


‘India can I talk to you?’ India had to keep herself from laughing, one of the minions was actually interrupting her to try and talk. Sitting up in the bed she saw Heidi standing at the end of her bed.


‘Yeah, okay’ India could do with some amusement to fill her time and if Heidi chose to provide it free of charge who was India to decline. She slid over to the side of the bed and waited for Heidi to commence.


‘I was thinking somewhere a little less like this’, she gestured around the room, ‘like the library.’ India did not even know the there was a library in the school. She went with it anyway.


‘Lead the way.’ Heidi turned and for once in her life India followed one of her minions.


The library was a big affair. It had tall oak bookcases, overcrowded with books that were published recently and centuries ago. There were also four big plush green chairs, one placed by each of the long, stained glass windows. If India had known this place was here she could have used it instead f the graveyard. It was deserted, but looked a lot more comfortable. The bookcases made the room into a maze as they joined at odd parts, not just set up in rows. India was snapped out of her awed state by the sound of Heidi pulling one of the plush green chairs over to another. She sat on it then and India took her cue to sit on the other one. ‘Why?’ Interesting question India thought.


‘Why what?’ India had no clue what the question was suppose to mean.


‘Why do you pretend to be someone your not? Don’t lie, I know you do.’ Did she really want the truth. Was this some bet to figure out how messed up India is?


‘I don’t pretend, it’s just who I am. I’m a stuck up-’


‘Don’t, we know there’s something going on, you may block us out but it doesn’t mean we have to choose not to pay attention.’


‘What made you ask me? Why after all this time decide to confront me?’


‘Because you been acting worse recently, ever since you got that extra letter with your mail and then you got another one today and for all I know you could have gotten more while your were in Dublin. We want to-’ suddenly Heidi stood up, she ran in between two of the bookcases. India followed promptly Heidi was standing in the gap looking up and down.


‘What did you run for?’


‘I thought I saw something? I dunno, maybe it was a trick of light.’ As if on cue, when Heidi said light the lights went out. Heidi’s face went blank. India looked around for a light switch, a lamp or even one of those things. What was it? A candle, that was it, but she came up with nothing. India returned her gaze to Heidi, who was currently running down the aisle. Heidi was reaching the end when t bookcase began to fall. India screeched to warn her, Heidi jumped but it was too late the case caught the end of her leg. ’Heidi!’


It had been two days since the incident in the library. All the teachers had been watching India carefully in case she might breakdown. Fed up of being watched India went to see Heidi in the infirmary, there the people would be looking after Heidi and India would be forgotten.


The infirmary was the same as the dormitories, just painted white and there were curtains around the beds. ‘I’m looking for Heidi?’ India asked the nurse who looked older than the graveyard. She pointed with her finger to the third curtain on the left. ‘Thank you.’


India pulled back the curtain and found Heidi lying in her bed. Her leg was in a cast and her beside locker was holding more flowers than the school gardens. ‘How are you feeling?’


‘I’m good. Doc says I’ll live. What about you? You okay?’


‘I’m fine. Getting annoyed with everybody watching me all the time, but that’s all.’ Heidi smiled, she knew the feeling India thought, Heidi was stuck in this room for the next week and a half.


‘There’s one thing bothering me though.’ Heidi said slowly, India sat on the chair beside the bed to show she was interested. ‘I think I saw them.’


‘Who?’ The ever so helpful nurse decided that visiting time was over just as India arrived, so much for an escape from the eyes of the teachers. India stood to leave, she glanced back at Heidi to say goodbye.


‘I saw them India, the person who’s been sending you the letters. There here in the school.’ The nurse studied India and Heidi trying to figure out the hidden message, even though there was none. India nodded and made her way back to the dorm the same as last time, only this time she was glancing behind her every two minutes.

Chapter 14 - Peter

(She was definitely getting the letters. I was sure she was. But just getting the letters wasn’t enough. I needed to know what she thought of them. Was she terrified? Intrigued? Perhaps she just thought it was funny, some loser who was obsessed with her sending her pathetic letters that she laughed at, then casually threw away. The image of her tossing my carefully written letters in the bin, even though it wasn’t real, made my blood boil. I had to do something in real life to convince her to take these letters seriously, as soon as possible. Nobody is scared of empty threats)

Dear India,

It has been far too long since I have smelled your beautiful hair and seen your beautiful eyes. I ache to be near you once more. I hate myself for not being there for you when you needed me in recent times. I promise that I will never again let you down as I have done. You will, from now on always be safe, for I shall be watching over you. I have to admit that, in a moment of weakness, I considered giving up and drowning my sorrows in Johnny Walker, but I came to senses. You have nothing to fear as long as I am around.

(That might end up being an ironic statement. I hoped I could work out another way of doing things, but nothing was springing to mind. My head was in bits and I think it was starting to show through on the page, which to me looked like a series of random thoughts as opposed to the tightly scripted masterworks of my first two letters. I just needed to relax, to get back into that tranquil state of mind that had allowed me to write those.)

I know I have said it many times before, but things that are true need to be said many times to hammer home their truth. Just seeing you makes me weak at the knees. I have been going through some personal trouble recently, which I may tell you about someday in the future, and it was a cause of great distress to me that I had to go without you for so long. I know that I’m rambling a bit, but I just want you to remember that, to me at least, you’re perfect.

(Ughh. I guess I should explain why I’m in such poor form. I got fired from my job recently. I work in, or rather worked in, a restaurant as a waiter, and was starting to get really good at it. My guests seemed to appreciate my professional and efficient service, and I found myself enjoying serving them. However, that was brought to an end when I was accused of sexually harassing a female co-worker. Apart from being fired, I loathed having my name connected with behaviour like that. It was so.... vulgar. I’m not a creep and hate being accused of such things.

For the first time since I’ve started doing this, I left the letter while it was half finished to go and clear my head. When I came back I came with a newfound resolve. I was sure of my course of action, which to my mind was more important than whether or not it was the right course of action to take).



I have heard that you were at a party you were invited to by a strange boy, who later drugged you. It is amazing and incredibly fortunate that no harm befell you. Whether this is because you are blessed or due to your own skills, I do not presume to know. But god helps those who help themselves, and we cannot allow a situation like that to occur again. I will keep you safe in future. Trust me.

(Well, I had given my word now. No turning back. No backing down. When I look back, I don’t think I ever seriously considered just dropping the issue, but this was the moment when I realised that I couldn’t. I had to see this through to the bitter end. I wondered what India would think of my newfound determination. I decided that it didn’t matter what she thought, as long as she took me seriously.)

I’ve been thinking back over all the time I’ve spent watching you, and I realise that I love, India. I’m not sure what you think of me, but I hope it’s good. You don’t have to love me back, but I do need you to do as I say. Perhaps when you have redeemed yourself for your past cruelty, I will be able to treat you as you deserve to be treated. I’d like that.

Yours Sincerely,

X

(I placed the letter into an envelope and sealed it shut, feeling like I was sealing my own fate along with it. I shook my shoulders to try to relieve the tension, and then strode out of the room, my head spinning).


Chapter 15
 
Síofra Naughton
 
     India sat in the sun drenched common room eating her breakfast of a toasted bagel.  She sat in the squashy armchair in the corner, with her earphones dug deep into her ears.  She listened to the opening lines of The Kinks singing ‘All Day And All Of The Night’.  India’s mind drifted back to stories her parents used to tell about  when they were young, in the sixties.  This was what she always did when she felt alone.  India missed her parents and with Heidi in hospital she had never felt more isolated.  She turned up the volume drowning her thoughts in the voice of Ray Davies.
 
     As the closing crash of symbols sounded and the rough voice of Ray Davies faded out, she stood to leave the room.  She switched off the music, and threw her bagel wrapper in the direction of the bin.  It bounced off the edge and rolled under the table. India bent to collect the scrunched up wad of paper and placed it in the bin.
 
    She stood and caught a glimpse of the name “St. Endalines” jutting from a newspaper in the bin. She dug it out and scanned the front page for the name of her school.  A sub-heading
“St. Endalines all girl private school, Kildare has had one of its students fall victim to a freak accident in the schools library.  Continued page 3...”
India rifled through the broad sheet and flattened the pages across the coffee table.  She dropped onto the couch and began to read.
 
   “Last Friday, St. Endalines’ school for girls, ranked 2nd best school in all of Ireland,  was the scene of a tragic accident. 
 
Students were studying for their end of term exams  in the Joanne Shaw Memorial Library.  An old book-case that had become unstable toppled on top of a student. The injured student, Miss Heidi Viridian the injured student, was just leaving the library.  She and a friend had been studying in the Roman history section when the accident occurred.  Her injuries, though extensive, are not life threatening.  She sustained a broken leg, extensive bruising and severe concussion.  She is said to be in a stable condition, the doctors expect her to make a full recovery.
 
Headmistress, Rita Mulciber, said in a statement to the press that student welfare is their top priority and she would like to assure, the parents and guardians of her students, that they will do everything in their power to make sure that nothing like this will happen again. The Le Bas family, chairpersons of the board of management, have promised a donation to refurbish the library.  New furniture and state of the art computers will be installed.
 
A witness present in the library at the time of the accident, who wishes to remain anonymous, and for legal purposes shall be referred to as “X”, said that they heard creaking and rasping just before the bookcase toppled.
 
  India threw down the newspaper, without finishing the article
 
How did they know that much detail, where we were sitting?  No one else was in there Heidi and I checked, we didn’t want anyone to overhear us.  I didn’t even know I was in Roman history.  It’s X again I know it.
 
This had finally hone to far the letters and photographs. India knew she had to talk to someone.  Someone with a position of power and authority. Someone to take her seriously.
 
Less than two minutes later India was striding up the stairs to Pryce Hall, where all the teachers’ offices were. She strode up to the reception and said, “I need to speak with Miss Mulciber.”

 
Chapter 16- Anna Graham


India barged into the office reception “I need to see Ms Hazelbrook right now!” she barked at the secretary.
“What’s the matter India?” The secretary asked, concerned.
“That is a matter I’d like to take up with my head mistress, right now!” she blustered hammering her closed fist on the chest high desk.
“I-I’ll see if she’s free” she said, intimidated.
India watched her walk away. She noticed that she walked on her tip toes, it was as if she was afraid that the heel on her high street high heels would make too much noise. The last thing India saw of her in the room was her auburn bun, bobbling through the door to the principal’s office.

“Whoa” India heard behind her. She swung around to see a regular detentionee.
“What?” India blurted impatiently.
“No need to be so cruel to little miss sunshine in there” India gasped. Cruel.
“I don’t need your help, I can live my life how I want to! I don’t need your help” India shouted. The girl looked around.
“I wasn’t trying to help? I don’t care how you live your life” The girl said confused.
“Of course, sorry” India replied, before she could stop herself apologising, the other girl looked surprised too.

“India? Ms Hazelbrook will see you now” the secetary said coming through the door, she kept her eyes to the floor.
“Thank- it’s about time.” This time India stopped herself before she completely demolished her reputation.
She strode past the secretary into the principals office he swished her hair over her shoulder as her left.

“India dear, what can I do for you?” Ms. Hazelbrook smiled kindly.
“I have a stalker! And he’s dangerous, he’s the one who threw the bookcase on Heidi!” India blurted, losing her composure.
“Now now India, I’m sure it’s all in your head. Sit down dear. Now I know you blame yourself for Heidi’s accident because you told her to go to the library and you chose the table under that bookcase but you shouldn’t blame yourself!” Ms. Hazelbrook smiled like an escaped mental patient.
“I wasn’t blaming myself, I know it’s not my fault” Ms Hazlebrook stared blankly at India.
“Then why are you here?” Ms Hazelbrook asked, still with a blank expression

“Ok, I’ll tell you from the start” India said finally with a clear head. “I started receiving these letters from someone who signed them X. They started off nice, he complemented my looks and intelligence”
“Oh love letters! How nice, that brings me back to my day, you know, I used to send love letters and poems to my little boyfriend too. Ms Hazelbrook interrupted, she clearly wasn‘t grasping the point, India would have to be clearer.
“he’s not my boyfriend, he’s my stalker”
“Oh, so you broke up with him but he doesn’t get the message?”
“No! I don’t even know who he is” India was getting frustrated.
“Dear, I’m very disappointed in you, did you not listen at all in those lectures about internet safety? Here read over this” She rummaged in her desk a bit before producing a flier on internet safety and handing it to India. India sighed and stuffed it into the main compartment of her school bag. She decided to play along with the internet idea, it would take forever to explain to .
“Ok but, he’s getting dangerous, how do I stop him?”
“Delete him as a friend on facebook or bebo or whatever you kids are on these days”
“I did that” India lied, still playing along “he keeps sending me letters, even when no one knows where I am”
“Umhm” Ms Hazelbrook mumbled, her head down rummaging through her drawer again. “Here you go, this should help” She smiled handing India yet another flier. “How to tell a boy you mean ’No’” India sighed, taking the flier and putting it beside the other one in her bag. She knew she’d get nowhere with the headmistress acting this dense. India smiled,
“Thank you”
“No problem at all dear, let me write you a note for your teacher” She said searching for a pen. India stared at the blue biro stuffed through the out of date scrunchy that gathered in ditsy principals frizzy hair in a bushy pony tail. It reminded India of a bouce of heather turned brown from age.
“It’s fine, I have a free class now” She didn’t, but she knew a teacher would never ask if she had a late note.
“Ok darling, can you do me a favour and ask Melissa O’ Gorman to come in on your way out?”
“No problem” She replied with a fake smile.

India left the office no better off then when she went in. She looked at Melissa and nodded her head to the door. Melissa nodded her head also, as if to say thanks.
India stood there a minute after Melissa went into the office so she could take a slug of water. She wondered how a scitty woman like that could be in charge of one of the most prestigious schools in the county. It was a wonder the school hadn’t gone to ruins, she was far too lenient. Just then she heard her bellow “I am sick of this behaviour Melissa!”. Maybe she wasn’t.




Chapter 17 (Amalia Naughton) -


The sound of their footsteps echoed down the endless corridor, until finally they stopped in front of a small brown door. The teacher pulled a brass key from her pocket and twisted it in the lock and door opened with an unnerving creak.

“Here you go,” the teacher smiled, “All your belongings have already been transferred here. There’s a lovely view of the courtyard on evenings like these.”

India nodded. Just minutes before, the teacher had hurried up to her and told India that her parents PA had called the school that morning. Apparently, they wanted her to be moved to private quarters as a result of the incident in the library. She was going to argue at first, but it was unlikely that she had a choice in the matter. They didn’t want to believe how incredibly absurd it was for her parents to show any interest in her wellbeing. Her parents were very reliable in that way.

The teacher handed her the key, said something pointless, and left. India stepped inside and scanned the room; she had to be sure no one was there. The floorboards made it difficult for her to move quietly.

There wasn’t anyone behind the shower curtain, or under her bed. Her walk in closet was empty aside from suitcases of her clothes. She felt a little silly afterward, and wondered what she’d have said if a minion had walked in. But this part of St. Endalines was quite secluded, so there really wasn’t much chance of that happening. Most students only got private quarters if their parents paid extra.

The room was quite large and mostly empty, with a handful of uncomfortable looking furniture. Whoever had chosen the colour scheme was quite fond of beiges and greys. Just looking around made India a little bored. The nicest thing about the room was the marble fireplace, which had ornate carvings and what seemed to be depictions of a story. On the mantelpiece were a couple of ornaments that India took a closer look at.

The teacher had been right about the view, the courtyard was quite nice, although she would have preferred to see the graveyard. She tried to spot a place where X could watch her from, but the darkening sky made it very difficult to see much beyond the window but vague shapes.

India felt the wood shift under her feet. She looked down, and after further inspection she concluded that there was a loose floorboard, she slipped her fingers under the board and checked to see if anything was inside it. It was empty.

India collected all the letters and notes she’d gotten from X, recalling what Mr. Fluffy had told her. She placed them in the cavity and slotted the board in place.

She sat down on the bed and sighed. What now? There was a small piece of card on the pillow that she had overlooked. It was addressed to her, and when she flipped it over it read:

“Courtesy of X”

Maybe if X was watching her, he or she might leave her alone if they thought she was incredibly bored with the whole thing. She crumpled up the note and aimed it at the paper basket. It veered off course and hit the window with a surprisingly loud thud

And the window knocked back.

India froze. All she saw in the window was her startled reflection.

She panicked, and stumbled off the bed, frantically searching for anything she could use as a weapon. She switched off the light so no one could see in. There was someone outside. She grabbed a candlestick off the mantelpiece and edged her way toward the window. Her hand was shaking.

She opened the window just a crack and was met by a pair of familiar blue eyes. A wave of relief washed over her.

“Jared?” she gaped, a little annoyed. “How in the name of Prada did you get up here?”

“What took you so long? It’s freezing out there,” he hissed, slipping in off the window ledge. She looked out the window to see if he’d used some sort of ladder. It was too dark to tell, but there was no way he could have

“This place is not easy to find, I’ll tell you that,” he grumbled “Your directions were pretty useless too.”

India paused from trying to discreetly put down the candlestick. “What directions?”

Already Jared was getting on her nerves. She couldn’t believe his arrogance, first he’d broke into her room and then he was acting as if he didn’t want to be there.

“I got your message yesterday,” Jared frowned “Here, I’ll show you-”

He checked his pockets.

“Damn. Must have dropped my phone...”

“I assure you,” she snapped “I’ve done no such thing. I never sent you any-”

They heard footsteps approaching and halted.

“Was the message signed with an X?” she whispered when the person passed her door.

Jared was quiet. He looked around the room awkwardly and slumped against the wall.

“Look India, do you think I could stay here for a while?”

“What’s wrong?” she asked

He sighed, as if he were trying to figure out what to say. For once it wasn’t India trying to calculate her words.

“The Gardaì found our place on North Great Georges Street,” he began “They took in a bunch of people and all, it was gonna to happen sometime. I need to wait for things to cool down.”

“You’re not telling me everything,” she told him. Her words were spilling out in the strangest way, unlike any role or character she’d taken on before.

“How could you tell?” he smiled. After what seemed like the longest pause he continued, “When the Gardaì came we had to dart. I got away obviously, and so did Anthony. But somewhere during the running and shouting I lost him. He disappeared, and I just can’t find him anywhere. He’s not the type to just disappear. Something’s wrong, India, trust me.”



“You can stay here, I want to help you. Tomorrow we’ll find you somewhere better, a janitors closet or something. Or the shed out by the graveyard.”

She opened the door of her step-in closet and Jared thanked her. She felt a little guilty, making him tell her everything when she had revealed nothing. But she wasn’t naïve enough to confess everything to someone she barely knew, and someone she was quite sure had drugged her before.

“You can have the bathtub if you get uncomfortable,” she yawned.

India left the candlestick on her nightstand just in case. She wondered if she should get a more efficient weapon instead. And just like that, she was asleep.



chapter 18 by Hannah

India was worried about Heidi. She felt guilty. India felt that it was her fault that Heidi had gotten hurt. If only she hadn’t told Heidi then none of this would of happened thought India sadly. India jerked out of her thoughts, she pulled on her boots. It was almost 6:30, India hurried along to give Jared, Heidi’s homework. Obviously India wasn’t going to do Heidi’s homework herself so she got Jared to do it. All Heidi had to do was sign her name. Very convienent. Heidi hurried along to Jared’s hiding place, India slowed to a walk so that she didn’t attract any attention. She started to wonder why Jared was always so obliging to her.. she didn’t have long. “ hey, India” Jared called out. “Hi I have Heidi’s homework” said India. “great, its really helping me with my education” exclaimed Jared. India smiled and went to dinner, still hoping she could trust Jared.

India returned after dinner to collect Heidi’s homework. Jared was always finished in record timing. As Jared handed India the homework she looked in his face for any sign of trust but she only saw a mask.

The next day, India visited Heidi in hospital. Poor Heidi looked awful, her face was covered in purple and brown bruises. India was eager to talk, about the night in the libary. Heidi had didn’t say anything, she just stared blankly at India, her expression was one that had fear in it. “Well”said India. “ Emm... here’s your homework” she stood up to leave. Heidi grabbed her arm, her eyes watered and she was biting down on her lip to stop herself from crying. “I’m so scared” burbled Heidi , “What if someone tries to hurt me again”.

Heidi looked around , she seemed to think that they were being watched. She made a hand motion for India to bend down. “ I think i saw them” she whispered her voice cracking. Heidi looked at the window and gasped, a shadow of a person was there, neither of them had realised that the window had been open. They both screamed, this caused nurses to come running into Heidi’s room.. the shadow disappeared. The nurses insisted that India had to leave as she had gotten Heidi over-excited.

India left and took a taxi back to the school. The taxi driver thought she had been visiting her grandmother and exclaimed how nice it was for India to visit her grandmother. India didn’t bother correcting him. She felt alone in the world.

During the night, India was awakened by the sound of her mobile phone vibrating under her pillow. The clock told her it was three- thirty am. The caller identification was Heidi. “Hello”, said India sleepily. “ India, its me Heidi.. I have been told not to see you again , a note was in the homework you gave me, watch out , bye” Heidi hung up.

This call confirmed India’s suspicions of Jared.


Chapter 19


Síofra Naughton




India grabbed her bag from the top of the dresser. She was already fifteen minutes late for class. She had yet to drop in and see Jared, whom she had moved to the empty caretakers shed. This seemed the most logical solution, to try and keep him as far away from her and not to let him know that she suspected him of being X.




India set off at a quick walk down the hall and past the sixth years' rooms. She descended the stairs and passed out through the lobby. She stepped out into the rare morning sunshine and crossed from the far end of the court yard towards the main building. She walked right up to the doors of the main building and took a sharp left. If anyone were to look out from the main building they would think she had gone inside to class.




India ran down the grassy slope towards the hockey pitches, past the running track before cutting through the football pitch. She slowed to a leisurely stroll and took a few moments to catch her breath. She knocked on the door of the shed three times. Jared opened the door a crack and seeing it was her he grinned broadly and invited her in. India stood warily by the door and said,




“Hey, I was just checking in. I've got to get back up to French.”

“Oh alright just that fish spoon and I was wondering if you could get me some wheel shovel?”




India stared at him blankly. She was sure she must have misheard him, but she didn't want to be hanging around Jared for any longer than necessary. India gave a non-committal shrug and began backing out of the shed. Jared stepped out after her and to India's shock he was wearing her pyjamas. Why would he take those? Admittedly they were unisex pyjamas, but she couldn't understand why he wouldn't have taken a jumper, after all it was still pretty cold outside. India disregarded this and jogged back up to the school.




India sat at the back of English, her minions occupying the seats surrounding her. S she was conscious of Heidi's empty seat beside her. Mrs. Quinn's effort to interest the class in the poetry of William Butler Yeats was futile. They began reading on of his most famous poems, The Hungry Caterpillar. India was not impressed. She had already read this, she remembered it from a summer camp her parents had sent her to. It was, they felt, somewhere worthwhile for her to do during the long summer holidays.




India sped out of class to check on Jared. Approaching the shed she crept to the door and looked through the gap in the corregated iron. He was slumped in the corner asleep. This was her opportunity, she had to talk to Heidi.




Ten minutes later India burst into the infirmary, to which Heidi had been moved to that morning. Heidi was dozing in her bed. India squeezed her shoulder and whispered.




“Psst, Heidi wake up I think, no I know who X is.”




Heidi stirred and rolled over to see who it was that had woken her.
Feverish eyes darted around, looking for someone who wasn't there. There was a look of desperation in her eyes.




“Its okay, I'm pretty sure I know who it is and they are safely away from here right now.”

India patted her hand reassuringly.




Heidi didn't seem convinced. She kept looking anxiously towards the door.




“I think X is Jarred.”




Heidi looked confused.




“Who is Jarred?”




“Jarred is a guy I met in Dublin. I know it's him, he knows too much about me. He uses the same phrases as X.”




“How do you know that he's safely away from here?”




“He's in the empty caretakers shed. Curled up in a corner.”




“That can't be possible. It is not possible for them to be there and here at the same time. ”


India glanced around desperately, but the room was completely empty except for her and Heidi. India looked confused and stood shaking her head from side to side trying to shake off this image of someone watching her. At that moment the nurse, Miss Harkness, arrived. She ushered India out of the room. The last thing she saw before leaving the room was Heidi, looking desperately after her. The heavy wooden door swung shut separating them.





Chapter 20: by Lesley


India had tried to avoid Jared since she got the phone call from Heidi, but it was hard considering he was in the closet in her room. He had put a threatening note in Heidi’s homework, he warned her to stay away from India. She had to bring him food, there was no avoiding that, if a boy turned up dead from starvation that would bring even more press towards the school, so India fed him.


For the period between meal times she wandered the school looking for something to do. The students used to stare at her as if she was mental, India LeBass roaming the corridors, mingling with other students. Now they had gotten used to it and just let her pass through the masses without a second glance. For this India was grateful, she just wanted to be alone and even though the halls were packed with people, because they paid her no attention, she felt alone.


During her alone time India thought of countless ways to confront Jared about the note. She planned what tone of voice and hand gestures she would use, how she would stand to assert herself. She could plan everything but the truth was, India knew she would not follow any plan when faced with the real situation. This kicked her back into reality every time. India checked her phone, it was nearly dinner time so she made her way to the food hall.


Dinner was generally based on the same foods with mix up of meat on certain days. Today chicken, potatoes and asparagus were in the print that looked back at India from the diner menu. These meals were easier for India to take back Jared, putting mushy peas or gravy into her bag never ended well. Eating half of her meal India then wrapped the rest up for Jared.


‘India, could I talk to you?’ It was Jenny, India had seen her around a lot recently, ever since sports day. Jenny looked different she seemed older, probably due to the fact she was wearing glasses.


‘When did you get glasses?’ India blurted out, her mind was swimming with so many thoughts that something simple like Jenny’s change in appearance grabbed her attention faster then Jenny’s awkward stance.


‘I’ve had them years, just never wear in front of you.’ India was shocked. Had she really had that affect. Jenny would not wear glasses in front of India for fear of what she might think. India had this strange feeling, it was like she was being choked, her throat was tight, she tried to say something to Jenny, apologise. Before India could find somewhere to start Jenny sat down beside her.


‘India why have you been bringing food back to your room? And you haven’t been to see Heidi in ages, I thought she was your friend?’ This conversation was not going to end well, India could feel it.


‘No offence Jenny first year but I don’t see how it’s any of your business what I get up to or who I visit. So please scoot off.’ Jenny stayed and India admired her nerve, this was the first time she was seeing Jenny stand up for herself.
‘India this is me being nice and giving you a chance to tell me your side of the story, if you don’t I’m going to tell the head about him.’ How could she know about the letter writer, only Heidi had seen him. India laughed it off.


‘I’ve already told her about the letters it’s useless, she thinks there love letters and I do not need any more flyers on teenage love: the stalker stage. So Jenny keep your nose out.’


‘I don’t know what bloody letters your on about India but I want the truth, not more of your lies, so tell me-’ Jenny had to stop and take a breath her voice was getting louder and other students were starting to stare,’-tell me why there is a boy in your room.’


India could not help express her amusement. She had thought Jenny knew about the letters and was digging where she was neither wanted or needed but no Jenny was still on the primary level, she just wanted to know why Jared was in India’s room. ‘He came to visit and I couldn’t let him stay in he shed by the graveyard, so he’s in my room. His name’s Jared by the way, feel free to drop by and visit him, I think he’s getting bored up there on his own.’


‘Why is he on his own? He’s your friend isn’t he? Shouldn’t you be keeping him company?’ India had to hand it to jenny she could pile a lot of questions into one short sentence and make India feel bad and remind India of the threatening note Jared had sent to Heidi.


‘He’s kind of my friend, more of an acquaintance. He’s on his own because I’m down here, obviously and no, I do not need to keep him company because it was his decision to come here, I did not invite him so I don’t have to entertain him.’


Jenny took a minute to process the information. India could swear she saw a light bulb click over Jenny’s head. Where this conversation was going India had no clue but she sat and waited for Jenny to say something. Time did not seem to pass, because it probably was not. ‘So I can meet him then? Your friend?’


‘Yeah just knock three times wait and then knock twice, he should open the door.’ The girl actually wanted to meet him, she probably thought it was some honour that India would let her.


‘Three times then twice, okay. Thanks India!’ With a smile on her face so big that India thought it must hurt Jenny stood up and fled the dinner hall. Checking around her India noticed that most people had deserted the hall, so she to left.


India did not have to knock the secret code for the room as it was her room, in fact there had been no secret code until Jenny had asked. India strode into the room ignoring Jared lounging on her bed and sat on the wooden chair beside her study desk.


‘What’s for dinner?’ Jared inquired, clapping his hands together. He always looked so happy at meal times. India never asked but she was sure this was the most food Jared had gotten in a long time.


‘Chicken , potatoes and asparagus. I think they’re starting to realise I have to put the dinners into my bag.’ India handed Jared the wrapped up, ready to go meal. She ushered him off the bed while he ate, she did not fancy sleeping on potatoes.


‘I have a friend calling later she wants to meet you, I told her to knock three times then twice, okay?’


‘Why the secret knocking code?’ Why do you talk with your mouth full? India thought.


‘I dunno it just came to me. Be nice. I’m off.’ With that India did what she had been doing most of the time now, she left Jared alone and went wandering around the school.


It was nearly dusk when India saw Jenny coming towards her. Jenny was walking like India, a tornado could have come and she would have kept on walking through it.
‘Hey Jenny, wha-’


‘You think it’s funny, you and him have some inside joke or something. It’s not India it messed up, you could have just told me in person.’ India had no clue what all this was about.


‘Jenny could I have the story from the beginning please?’


‘Here!’ Jenny shoved a piece of paper into India’s hand. India unfolded it.


Jenny stay away from India. Firsts year have no part in her life.
Watch out.
X


‘Jenny I don’t know what this is, I swear I’ve never seen it.’


‘I went to your room and found this on the door, I knocked to see if you or Jared were in there and then I heard someone laughing. I left before you opened the door and laughed in my face. I thought you were alright. I guess I was wrong.’ Jenny left before India could answer.


This was it, she was going to have to confront Jared and get him to stop. He was making her lose her friends, the few that she had. She marched in to the room and found Jared bent over the study desk reading some History book that India had just thrown there. ‘Why are you here? The truth.’


‘I told you I just wanted to visit, it is the truth. Your friend called but she left before I could open the door. I was watching your head mistress teach P.E. Have you ever seen her in lycra doing squats? It’s hilarious. I managed to stop laughing to tell her to hang on but by the time I got to the door she was gone. My bad I guess.’ He was so blasé about it all, he would have made a good actor India thought.


‘And the note, that was just to see if you could freak out of knocking then, was it?’
‘Note? As in piece of paper with words or my singing?’ He laughed, India did not find it very funny. Jared was good at lying she remembered, he had drugged her inconspicuously.


‘The note with words, that was pinned to my door to warn Jenny to stay away from me. You really spooked her Jared it’s not funny. She’s only in first year.’


‘Can I see the note? I don’t even have to touch it you can hold it in front of my face.’ India obliged and held the note steady for Jared to see. She watched him take in the whole piece of paper, like it was a map of the world. Before he could speak she told him about Heidi’s note too


‘And Heidi, she’s in a hospital bed and you sent her a threatening note in her homework. Your screwed up or you like dark, dark jokes. I want you to apologise to my friends Jared.’


‘India, there’s a possible chance that I might be screwed up but I didn’t send those notes. For example, you took this piece of paper-’ he held up Jenny’s note ‘-with you when you left me at dinner time. Second example, only you and I had Heidi’s homework and I’m positive I didn’t write that note either.’


‘So your suggesting that I wrote them, seriously! Why would I write notes like that to my friends Jared? You really think you can trick me into believing you didn’t write them.’


‘India? If I wrote them, why does the handwriting match yours?’ India stood staring at the note on the bed, for the first time she actually looked at the note, she recognised her writing small letters, partially leaning towards the right. It matched Jared was right, but how?

Chapter 22- Anna Graham

(I sat down and began to write one of my possible final letters to India. It was kind of sad considering that I wouldn’t talk to her again. Well, I had never really been talking to her as such, more talking at her. But still, there was a connection there, that was for certain. Maybe I would hand deliver my final letter, she would thank me for trying to make her a better person. She might fall in love with me too.)

Dear India,
I am very proud of you. You have made some great progress with becoming a better person. I heard you apologise for snapping at that girl in the office, she shouldn’t have disrespected you though. Don’t worry, she’ll be punished.

(I like that start, I want to make her feel good about herself, god knows she deserves to. Now down to the serious part)

But, I don’t like that you told our little secret to that Heidi girl. That wasn’t a good thing to do. I’d prefer if you didn’t tell anyone else. It would be in their best interest. Also, I would like you to know that

***
India woke up as a light from the hallway light up the room from the small mottled window over her door. India was confused. She lifted her head up from the desk. She couldn’t remember what she’d been doing or when she had fallen asleep. She had gone to bed quite early the night before, she remembered being tucked up tightly in ample bedclothes. She looked over at the bed. It seemed less luxurious than before.
She thought about what she had been doing before she fell asleep. She couldn’t remember. She decided she must of being doing homework because she had been asleep on the desk. She pushed the creaky wooden chair back and looked under her bed for her bag. “Hmm it’s not here” She thought, adjusting herself to be upright again. She returned to her desk to look for clues for what subject she was doing. She shuffled papers around her desk before the words “Dear India” caught her attention. “He must have been in the room, he must have been watching me sleep” She thought, it reminded India of a bad vampire film. The thought of someone watching her sleep made her shudder, it didn’t seem romantic in the slightest. She began to read the letter.

When she got to the end she was confused as to why it ended so abruptly, she checked the back and around the desk for a continuation, but none was found. “Why would he give me a half written letter?” She pondered. “He didn’t even sign off with his usual pseudonym” She was kind of disappointed by this. Then it dawned on her. Maybe he was writing it in the room while she was sleeping and hid when she woke up! She knew it had to be Jared no matter what he said. She picked up his candlestick and slowly approached the closet. She took a deep breath before tearing open the door and swinging the candlestick wildly. She opened her eyes when she didn’t feel contact. There was no one there. She looked around the room; there was nowhere else to hide. She walked to the window and looked down at the campus to see the bustling students going to extra classes and training or even just sitting socialising. But she didn’t. She saw no one. She looked out the window half expecting to see tumbleweed blowing by.

Chapter 23 by Peter

India Le Bas stares sullenly out the window of her parents’ car. An average, perhaps slightly spoilt teenage girl, she finds these family outings to be inconvenient at best and excruciating at worst. Still, she comes along without making too much fuss, keeping her thoughts on the issue to herself, as she likes to keep on her parents’ good side, and besides, it is nice to see them happy. She doesn’t see them very often as a result of her expensive education, spending most of her time cooped up in a private boarding school in the middle of nowhere.
Today she has a new Polaroid camera, and is experimentally taking shots with it. Her father tells her not to waste the memory, or whatever it is cameras use these days, in a light, chiding tone. She shrugs his words off and continues to take meaningless photos of uninteresting pieces of scenery, the backs of the car seats, and whatever other random bits of her surrounding catch her interest. It’s a way of expressing her boredom without actually saying anything, so that her parents understand how she feels but can’t actually argue with her.
Eventually, though, this becomes boring for her and she switches her attention to her mobile phone. Her mother asks her who she’s texting, and India tells her that she is texting a guy called Jared. Her mother asks what he’s like and India shrugs; she barely knows him. She wants to say something more, to bridge the gap that is created by only seeing them once every few months, but she doesn’t know what else she can say. So she shrugs.
India suddenly realises that she has completely forgotten where they are going. She asks the Butler, whom she has nicknamed Mr. Fluffy, as her parents seem to be engaged in a discussion of their own, and India has learnt that it is pointless to try to interrupt a conversation of theirs once it gets going. Mr Fluffy scowls for a second at the nickname, which he hates and which has spread throughout the house so that now everyone calls him by it, then reverts to his usual professional demeanour. He informs her that they are going to Brittas Bay beach. She receives this information without comment and turns her attention back to the window.
Sometimes, a lot of the time actually, India wonders if there isn’t more to life than this. She knows that she shouldn’t feel like this; she doesn’t really have any right to be anything less than perfectly happy, given how everything in life has been handed to her since her stereotypical silver-spoon-in-mouth birth, but she can’t help it. She looks at the lives of the heroines she sees on the TV, in the movies, in the romance novels she reads, and she can’t quite understand why her life has never show the slightest hint of that kind of adventure. It has been, from beginning to end, bland, banal and predictable. She has recently taken up writing short stories just to have something to do with all the wild childhood imaginings of what her adult life would be like, as she has now realised that none of them are likely to come true.
Her parents, completely unaware of their daughter’s adolescent angst at the supposed futility of her own life, are locked in what to them is an intense political discussion, and to the other inhabitants of the car may as well be being spoken in Swahili for all the sense they can make of it. To do so they would have to have paid attention to the hundreds of similar conversations that have come before, something that India has never been bothered and Mr. Fluffy has never seen the need to do. Still, this makes the time that the two older Le Bass’s spend talking with each other rather awkward for them, and so they usually end up conversing with each other. India sees the butler as a confidant, while Mr. Fluffy sees the girl as annoying but sweet. Today, though, neither can think of anything to say to the other, and so they sit in silence.
India snaps out of the trance that she had managed to slip into as they go over an unpleasant bump in the road. She decides that she should at least try to include herself in her parent’s conversation, but every time she tries to they simply turn around and shush her. She eventually works out a way to get some entertainment out of this, though, by taking a photo of whichever parent has turned around and they both find this incredibly annoying and are both soon yelling at her to stop and she knows just how childish this is but she doesn’t care, she just likes it that her parents are for once paying attention to her and suddenly her stomach lurches forward and the world around goes spinning out of control and she can’t breathe and she can’t see and she has never been so scared and then everything is quiet.



Chapter 24 by Hannah

India paced up and down her room. “Where was everyone” she wondered. India ran her hands over her face, her skin was flaky, she looked around her room. Where was her moisturiser? Wasn’t it beside her bed? Suddenly India’s room looked very bare and since when were the walls grey? India shaked off this thought, she was in her boarding school, she was the most popular girl in St.Endalines. India sighed. She flopped down on her bed, wondering if she should write a letter to her parents. India soon fell asleep.

India was awoken by a knock on her door, a voice said “come on India , time to see the doctor”. India squinted , her vision was blurry “ what’s wrong with my eyes” she asked. “We’ve given you some medicine to make you sleep, dear” murmered a nurse apologetically. India just gazed at the people, they were recognizable somehow, but they all looked the same in their white clothing. India was led out of the room with two white clothed people holding both of her arms.

India walked down the hallway in a daze, she could feel the particles of dirt and dust from the floor sticking to her bare feet. The smell of bleach stung her nose as she walked towards a brown door , it instilled a sense of fear in her. India heard heavy frightened breathing, it annoyed her. “ You alright” asked the nurse. India realised the breathing was hers.

The door was opened, India shuffled into the room. A man who also seemed familiar began talking to India. Nothing he said to her made sense, except the words pyschology, mirrors, car crash and mind-games stung her like being pricked with broken glass. The man asked India if she was still keeping a diary. He explained that if she recorded her thoughts, that might help them discover how India could overcome her trauma. India stood up “ Trauma, what trauma” she screamed. “What do you mean car crash! Whats wrong with me?”

A nurse had to hold India onto the chair while she was being calmed down. The doctor held a mirror up for India to see. India looked in the mirror, that couldn’t be her could it? The person in the mirror was haggered looking, they had huge bags under their eyes, their skin had a brown hue. It was the face of someone who had completely given up. India realised that it was her.

“What happened to me” she asked the doctor. He spoke of how India and her parents had been involved in a car crash, he explained that India had been traumatized since the event. India was escorted back to her room by the nurses, she felt as though she didn’t exist. “Who am I” she said out loud. India reached er room and sank down on her bed to cry. She wept for hours until her eyes were as red and raw as tomatoes. She blew her nose, took out a pen and paper and began to write.



This turned out a lot more confusing than I intended.



Chapter 25 - Amalia Naughton

India watched the ink seeping into the paper. The doctor said writing would help, but it was a lot more difficult than she had imagined. She looked out from her desk onto the courtyard. It would be so much easier, she thought, if she could write as someone else.
And in that moment, something clicked. It felt as if the room had turned upside and somehow slotted everything together.

India snatched a new sheet of paper. Her hands were shaking. She glanced over at the loose floorboard and hoped that she would find this later with the others, and notice it was new. But most of all, she hoped that this would be the last letter of all.

She began to write. This time the words flooded out so fast she couldn’t keep up.

Dear India,

There’s something you need know, and there is no easy way to tell you. I don’t want to frighten you, but it’s important that you listen. I’ll try to explain in a way you can understand. I won’t make empty promises, because I don’t know if they’ll ever let us out of here. I can only hope.


Remember how you wanted to be an actress? At first it was just for fun, you loved the idea of being someone else. But then you realised how much safer it is in someone else’s skin. Maybe that’s why your characters took over; you couldn’t stand the guilt. I understand; it was the only way you could survive. Besides, you’re mother always said that you could choose to be whoever you wanted to be. But I really don’t think she meant for you to take it this far.



I know you’re scared; it’s not easy to have the weight of death on your shoulders. Playing a part doesn’t make us any stronger; it doesn’t make reality disappear to anyone but ourselves. I told you once that there would be consequences if you didn’t make amends to the people that you’ve hurt. You’re hurting me, every time you pretend to be someone you’re not. The only thing that’s stopping you from being happy is yourself. So why would you just give up?



All this time you were trying on all these personalities, like costumes, in hope that one of them would be the perfect fit.

I want you to know that I’m right here, beneath all your masks. You’re the only one who can find me. You and I, we’re closer than you might think. Just look in the mirror and I promise I’ll be staring right back. Trust me.

Yours truly,

X