Falling for Ocean Blue [BxB] ✔️

Chapter Forty five

Rebecca had cropped brown hair that she cut with blunt kitchen scissors one night and liked the look of it, so she wore it that way the rest of her life.

She had almond eyes like mine that seemed to glaze over when she played innocent. She did that often.

Her perfume was invasive and leathery.

She did not walk.

Rebecca waltzed with her slight chin pointed high despite there being no money in her pocket.

By no account did she mean to get pregnant with me. But when she did, she made sure to benefit any way she could. So, while the legitimate children may have gotten the nuclear family, the cars, the private tuition. I got warm meals and kind brown eyes.

My mother died a year ago.

And a week later I tried to kill myself.

It was the seventh floor of the Royal Academy of Music.

I skipped my piano recital. I climbed the winding stone steps up to the highest room. It was an abandoned dormitory where I spent summer nights with Juliette.

I stepped onto the balcony and used a chair to get myself up on the railings.

Someone had pulled the fire alarm. I remember because the noise made me flinch, almost toppling me over the side.

Navy blazers filtered out of school in lazy strides. They funnelled into cliques and chatted amicably, glad for a moment's break. One by one, they caught sight of a shivering silhouette bare foot in the sky. It was like I was playing God over a little ant hill. They looked up as high as their necks would let them.

The ambulance sirens were singing over tall hills in the distance.

It feels like I died, as I watch the video loop for the millionth time.

"Enough of that!" Mum chastises me over a stack of paperwork. 

The news outlets have swarmed our home. They camp in chairs and tents on our lawn. They interrogate neighbours and shout for me to come out. The curtains are drawn.

Millions tune in to see B roll shots of Yvette's petunias or Soren's car. Students make statements. The contracts drafted by our notaries are dissected by retired lawyers on daytime TV. All within the space of three hours. Four, since the plane landed.

The room has turned sour.

I haven't changed my clothes since this morning.

My suitcase is unopened on the welcome mat.

The TV is blaring in the background. 

"The fifth clause is one legal only in a few states and European countries..."

"A blatant flaunting of wealth... I mean, children sworn to secrecy!"

"Frankly, this contract was written up by a sociopath..."

My mother snaps the TV shut with a chipped manicured hand.

Hans is here. He gives me a pained expression.

Our living room is hollowed out and replaced with a long, dark table. Mum is sitting in the furthest chair from me making calls. Hans is typing furiously on his laptop, sending me smiles he thinks are reassuring.