This chapter contains disturbing content. Readers' discretion is advised.
By the time Alicia pulled into the driveway of the house, the tears had already started. They streamed down her cheeks, and she did not bother to wipe them away. What was the point? What was the point in pretending any of this was fine?
Valerie was standing on the porch. She had cut her beach holiday short and returned immediately. She stood there with her arms folded, still in travelling clothes, watching her daughter get out of the car with her face swollen and her mascara halfway down it.
Alicia crossed the gravel on unsteady legs, and the tears fell faster with every step. She wanted her mother to hold her. She wanted someone, anyone, to tell her this wasn't as bad as it seemed.
"Mum—"
Valerie did not open her arms or say anything soft. She simply looked at her daughter's ruined face for a few seconds, then turned her head and gestured at the open door with her chin.
