I'm down by the water again.

It's dark outside, the moon high up in the sky. It shines down on the water, making a light white path towards me, cutting through the dark rippling water.

The waves crash softly by my bare feet, the coldness of the water making me shiver, the wind whipping my loose French braid back and forth.

Liam did my hair for me. He kept on asking if he was pulling too tight, but it barely felt like he was tugging on my hair at all.

Mum yanks the brush through my hair, making my eyes water. But I don't move. I have to sit still unless she yells at me.

She tugs my hair tightly into the two plaits, and when she's done, my hair feels like it's going to fall from my scalp.

I wince, not even daring to touch my hair. I glance over to Stella, who sits on the bed swinging her legs. We wear the same blue dress.

But her brown curls fall loosely down her back.

Why couldn't I look like that too?

I touch this loose braid, running my hands along it. Some smaller hairs fell out, now they're flying around my head, but I don't mind.

The waves keep crashing onto the shore, the sound soothing to my ears. I close my eyes, resting my chin on my knees, my arms wrapped around my legs.

My brothers don't know I'm out here. If they did, they'd want to come along, and I'm not in the mood for the company of people right now.

It's much nicer to be alone, with the moon and with the water. They've always been there for me. They're used to my nighttime visits.

Though, it was tricky to get out of the manor unseen. The floors were too creaky, the door hinges squeaky. And I felt like eyes were on me.

Even now, the hairs on the back of my neck stick up, as if I'm being watched by someone or something.

But I always feel that, their eyes in me. They're everywhere, all the time. I can't escape the eyes that follow me wherever I go.

I wrap my arms around my body, trying to conserve as much heat as I can. My sweater suddenly feels too light, the wind hitting against me mercilessly.

But I don't mind as much right now. Away from prying eyes, from running mouths. From expectations and socializing and pressure.

Even if my brothers haven't given me anything to worry over, the doubt still creeps into my mind. The doubt I know. The doubt I'm comfortable with.

Am I doing this right? That? Should I try harder? Do better? Eat this, wear that. This, and that, and this, and that.

Anything to prove myself. Anything to belong.

Sometimes I wonder if my brothers really don't care. They haven't mentioned anything, haven't given me many rules and regulations.

It's almost like they care. Like they don't want me in a cage. I don't feel trapped here, or confined to the wall with golden shackles.

Yet, the best cages are the ones where you don't even know you're a prisoner.

Slight rustling behind me snaps my gaze back to focus. I turn my head, expecting to see Thomas—he sometimes joins me from afar— but I see black instead.

A large figure grabs me. The man is dressed in black, his face covered in black cloth. I'm not even sure how he can see out of that.

But I know this dark shadow is a man. Only a man can grab you like this. Only a man can squeeze and throw and push you like this.

I struggle against his hands which close around my throat. Rough, jaded hands that make me unable to breathe.

My head hits the pebbles of the beach. My world tosses and tumbles, spinning all over until it's suddenly upside down.

And suddenly I'm submerged in the water. I kick, but then my legs are held down. I can barely flail, trying to rip his hand from my neck.

"Do you like the water now?" Dunk.

I try to scream but my mouth won't open.

"Think you're a mermaid, girl?" Dunk.

Help me. Help me.

"Stop being useless or I won't pull you back up." Dunk.

The fingers are suddenly ripped away from my throat. I'm pulled up into arms, but they feel warm, or maybe it's just my body wracking with shivers.

I can barely see, being pressed against a hard chest. My body is lifted from the water into these safe, comforting arms. My brother doesn't speak, but he doesn't have to.

~~~

I wake up in my bedroom. The sheets surround me like waves. Soft, smooth waves that cocoon me like a butterfly waiting to bloom.

My mind is awake, but my eyes aren't open yet. They still feel too heavy to lift. I hear noises around me, the voices of my brothers.

"Why isn't she awake? It's been a whole day and then some. The doctor said she's fine. What's going on?" James rambles, but his voice is hardened.

It's strange. Even Liam sounds cold.

"Her body went through trauma. She needs time," he says.

"The little fuc—" James begins but is cut off by Adam.

Adam sounds the closet to me, almost like he's standing right by my bed. I can feel his eyes on me. "Don't curse around her."

"Sorry. The little wanker's hand marks are still on her neck," he grumbles, his voice far from its usual cheerfulness. I wouldn't be surprised if he punched a wall.

"We should've kept him alive longer," Thomas says. I think that's one of the first times I've heard him speak.

And he's talking about murder?

What could he possible be talking about? He's speaking like he killed someone... But to be honest, I wouldn't put it past him.

Dad used to discuss this stuff. Not on purpose, really... Only when he was drunk and blubbering around. Mum would always shut him up and take him to their room.

She wasn't downstairs, though. In the basement. No, she never went down there. Dad would spout random things to me. Things that I never needed to know.

He told me a lot of things about the Meetings.

Is that why I have a target on my back now?

My eyes don't feel as heavy anymore. When I open them, the room falls silent, and I take note of each of my brothers.

Each look more disheveled than usual. Even Adam, who's normally so pish-posh in his suits and business shoes, like they were shipped from Italy.

They look at me as if I'm a fragile doll that might break at a touch. Each of their eyes hold clear worry, even Thomas', though his is more hidden.

"How are you feeling, Lacy?" Adam asks.

"Fine..." When I go to sit up, James and Liam quickly move to help me up, with James practically throwing pillows behind my back to prop me up.

Adam hands me a glass of water. I didn't even notice how thirsty I was until I began drinking, the cold liquid tasting like gold on my parched tongue.

"What happened?" I ask once I finished the glass.

My brothers exchange glances, as though having a conversation with each other telepathically. "What do you remember?" Liam asks in his normal soft tone.

"Well... I was at the beach..." I hesitate on that part since I'm definitely not allowed to be sneaking about in the middle of the night, even if Thomas knows about it.

But he doesn't seem like the snitching type.

"We already know about that," Adam informs me.

Never mind.

"How?"

"You're not very quiet," James pipes up, grinning.

"Anyway, continue," Liam prompts.

I hesitate again. "Right... well, I was sitting on the beach, and I heard footsteps behind me. I thought it was Thomas, but the man started to drown me."

My brothers grow quiet.

They look at each other again.

I'm about to spit out what I know about the Meetings, the not-so-innocent Clark family, when Liam says something absolutely outrageous.

"Lace..." He begins in a gentle tone. "We're the British Mafia."

———

Hello, loves!

I've completed this chapter! Finally!

It's been in the works for a while, I know! But thanks for bearing with me. Hopefully this chapter was up to standards.

Please let me know what you thought!

Vote and comment!

Au revoir,

Eva