Girl | Henry Winter

Prologue

Margot Astor on paper was meant to have the perfect life. Although was never that satisfied, or never really got the opportunity to be.

She was from Massachusetts, living in a large house up in the mountains although she barely spent much time there as she had been off and in boarding school since the age of six.

Her father was rich, although he used to be a lot richer. He was a big partner in a law firm, and was away nearly all the time on the pretence of business - but Margot learned from a young age that it really was just a time for him to go and engage in affairs that him and her mother would never dare speak of, even though even the maids knew of her father's arrangements.

Margot's mother was who she was closer too out of the pair, if only by a margin. Her mother was the typical rich trophy wife. She spent all her time in the home, making sure it all ran smoothly and by seven pm dinner was on the table even if she didn't necessarily cook it. She met Alexander, Margot's father, when she was only thirteen. He had just finished his final year of university, and when asked about it by Margot, described their meeting as a still point in his life.

He said she was more beautiful than anyone could ever have imagined, even at thirteen and that the second she introduced herself he knew he would end up marrying her.

Mr Astor would tell Margot that her looks came all from her mother, her slight, dainty frame reminiscent of a ballet dancer, along with her mid length dark brown hair and emerald deeply alluring eyes. Her soft, pouty lips and the way she spoke was apparently all identical to her beautiful mothers - which is why he fell for the teen.

It was only years and years later that Cecelia, her mother, recounted even the slightest bit of doubt at marrying a twenty six year old man at sixteen.

Margot used to lie awake at night, thinking about how young and innocent her mother must have been - which only really grew her resentment for her father. She hate to think of her mother giving away practically her whole life to this man, from thirteen to thirty eight only for him to get bored of her, and spend his days sleeping with women the same age and appearance as Margot.

She used to have a sister, too, an older sister called Ebony - even though Margot always called her Bonnie. She was five years older than her, and was everything Margot ever wanted to be. Unlike Margot, she took more after her father in looks and personality. She had long golden blonde hair, sitting like a crown atop her head, or rather a halo. She had a sharp cut jawline, pink cheeks with chocolate brown eyes and a beautiful smile that was almost contagious.

She could command a room, with her stories and songs, while Margot could command or charm nobody. She was a mere shadow compared to her big sister, who was more charismatic, well spoken and attention-drawing than Margot ever was.

She was their mothers favourite by far, which was fine since Margot was clearly her fathers, except she always craved her mothers attention more than she ever did her fathers. Bonnie had a way with her mom, and although Bonnie and Margot were always the closest bond in the household, their mother used to fawn over Bonnie proudly and wholly.

She was perfect and pretty and smart and funny, everyone thought Bonnie would make it massive. She could be an actor, an entrepreneur, a model, a public speaker, an artist, a singer, even something as mundane and less creative as a banker or lawyer if she really wanted to. Her talents where limitless.

Margot used to watch her from their holiday home, sat on the white painted wrap around porch, a glass of cold lemonade her mother had made in her hand while Bonnie would sing and dance for a little Margot in the tall grass as the sun blazed, about to set.

She could still imagine it, over a decade later, her sister frolicking like she was born for it in the flowers, completely encapsulating Margot who surely couldn't have been over the age of seven. Her hair was long, almost down to her waist which shone in the sun, her cheeks rosy and the tops of her shoulders slightly tinged with sunburn. Margot would sit, knees pulled to her chest with her eyes following the glint of her sister for what felt like hours.

Even now she thought she could've watched Bonnie for hours, till the sun had fully set and everybody was asleep. Nobody to disturb them, Margot entranced wondering if one day she would dance above the flowers and mud like something from a story.

Margot wondered if one day they could both dance above the flowers, and she had the confidence to sing out to the birds like Bonnie, had the power to effortlessly move like her. To be like her.

So it was all a big shock when Margot was twelve, home alone with Bonnie, and hadn't heard here come out of the bathroom in near an hour from the bath.

She had managed to pick the lock eventually, after her attempts at getting Bonnie to respond through the door failed, and found her bleeding out in the bathtub.

She had two vertices slices across each wrist, and the bath was slightly overflowed, the stained water creating a puddle onto the bath mat. She was in her normal clothes, her hair half soaked from where it was draped into the blood stained water and her eyes opened staring at the tile in an empty way Margot didn't recognise.

Bonnies eyes which were once magnetic, mysterious, full of sun and light now looked dull. Faded into the slow suck of death, draining every bit of her sister Margot had left.

She tried to pull her out, and stop the bleeding but ended up a bloody, wet mess on the floor, holding her sisters corpse in her arms.

She tried to wipe the blood that had stained her blonde locks a darker pink, and wipe the tears from her cheeks even though it didn't matter in the slightest considering the rest of her sister was drenched already.

From then on everything just seemed to get worse.

Her mother became even more quiet, or uninterested as her father put it. And he spent even more time with partners before finally settling on Vanessa, one of his favourite side women. She found out the girl was twenty, long dark hair and green eyes - from finding a picture in his wallet, one that used to be a family photo.

She was in a black bralette top which was almost bikini like, with light washed blue short shorts. Her hair was down, and the photo looked to be taken on a beach. The girl, who could've been mistaken for her from the back, was apparently English and was her fathers current obsession.

The poor college student didn't even realise he wasn't exactly the type to leave his wife and daughter for a barely educated twenty year old affair partner, no matter how much he was probably telling her differently.

So while he was jet setting around the world with Vanessa to Corfu, Jamaica and Bali - her mother was left to roam around the house for years, mourning her eldest ( and favourite) daughter.

And on the rare occasion that the three sat down for a 'family' dinner, the tension was palpable. Her mother couldn't even look at her father, staring at Bonnies empty seat, while her father looked bored out of his mind, normally making up some excuse to leave halfway through.

Margot sat wishing Bonnie was there. She would know what to say, or do. She would give Margot a knowing look, before changing a topic or discussing something else to distract away from the awful silence and reality of family dinner. But Bonnie wasn't there, and she never would be again.

So she spent more time at boarding school, opting out of returning to what she knew would be a near empty house bar her two incompetent parents in the holidays, and staying in the cold comforts of her Connecticut boarding school.

So when it came time for college, which she was told she had to attend, she decided to pick a quiet college - not Yale where her father went or any of the Ivy leagues like he pushed for - instead picking a small yet capable college of Hampden in Vermont.

It was close enough where her mother didn't object to her 'darling baby' being too far, yet far enough where it was less than likely she would make the effort to chauffeur herself down to the college for random visits, which Margot wanted to avoid at all costs.

Another plus was the fact her boyfriend at the time, an English Literature student called James, who she had met as he was in the year above at boarding school with her, was also attending Hampden. It was perfect.

And that is where she met the most enamouring, baffling set of students she ever came across in her Greek class - who very fittingly became her closest friends she ever had.

Including one boy, who her heart never let go of. Even long after his passing.