FOR a long time she slept.

It was far away from being a dreamless slumber, though. She kept seeing the last hours of Sean, the eyeless corpse of Miss Eloise and the maddened gaze of her father on the day of Sean's drowning when she had returned home from the tense ordeal at the beach.

Despite all that, tiredness kept her captive. She was on the sofa, laid in a foetal position, her face scrunched in discomfort. Sunlight sneaked in through the window behind Ríone and bathed her in a warm glow. Raindrops like diamonds were upon the window glass, glistening like the sea waves.

At last, her eyes opened. With a moan, Ríone awoke. Her joints were stiff as was her back. There was a throbbing ache in her limbs that made her squeeze her eyes. It was a bad idea to have fallen asleep on the sofa. What a way to begin a morning, though!

If tomorrow was another day, she would still be burdened to carry the remnants of yesterday with her. You cannot remove the past as if it were some stray graphite stain. Life is not a game where you have the option to restart it if things went wrong. And some quotes, like this, are just too overrated.

On shaky feet, she stood up. A wave of dizziness threatened to topple. Her stomach growled in hunger. The bags underneath her eyes were big enough to fit two field mice. She snatched the tote from the floor and her phone from the sofa before making her way towards the guest bedroom.

All Ríone needed at that moment was a hot shower and a proper bed to sleep away the entire day.

***

She stood under the shower with eyes closed and let the warmth wash away the stiffness of her body.

However, she failed to feel the full effect that warm water had on her. It stimulated her, made her feel alive. Ready to face the world. She could not feel it anymore. Numbness. She had gone numb from within. The chill of the sea had crept into her bloodstream and cooled down her entire being. She could feel nothing. As if it had sucked all the joy out of her life. Only the continuous trickle of the shower proved she was still not asleep.

An unsavoury memory from her childhood flashed in front of her eyes. She was nine back then, maybe a bit older. That day she returned home from school, only to find that the front door was open. Angry, muffled voices emanated from inside. Her heart raced; were her parents having a fight again?

With stealthy steps, she stood beside the door. She could see the entrance, but anyone inside could not see her. And as she had suspected, she found out that her parents were indeed fighting. Her face fell. Not again.

"You won't," she could hear her mother say. Her face was taut with rage, her eyes were a flaming inferno. "You will not squander my income to get a drink. If you want to buy your precious liquor, you better get a job."

Her father bared his teeth. All that boyish beauty drained from his face in an instant. "What did you say?"

"I said get a job!"

That was when the thump resounded. Eyes widened with horror, Ríone saw her father punch her mother. The momentum carried her forward, and she fell on the floor. Blood dribbled down from a corner of her mouth. But instead of bursting into tears, her mother had stared into her husband's eyes with deftness. Not for once did she lower or avert her gaze.

However, that was more than enough for Ríone. Her hands trembled. She saw certain scars and bruises in her mother, which she blamed on the house, but this was the first time she saw him doing it. She moved away from the door as quietly as she could before breaking into a full sprint. Like always, she went to hide in Jake's home.

Ríone switched off the faucet. Her eyes were red. She was always a coward, unlike what her mother said. She was too chicken to save her mother from her father's blows or Sean from the clutches of the thing in the sea. Or save herself from what her father did to her on that day.

"He was not like that."

Her mother's words echoed in her ears. The woman said no, insisted on it during the last days of her life. For most of the time, she would not speak, but when she did, she would be in tears, either begging for forgiveness from her daughter or recounting how her husband was not the abusive monster that Ríone had seen growing up.

It embittered Ríone. She tried to not give too much attention to her mother's words. It is her age, she would think. That was what made her say it. Deep down, she too hated that man. Had to. Because if he was not like that, then what was he? What kind of father-

"No." she cried out loud. No, she could not remember it right now. She did not want to remember it ever again. That would be torture. She did not want to cause more pain to herself.

With a rough swipe of her hand, she dried her tears. She slipped on her underwear and put on the lilac dress she had brought from home - a gift from Derek on her thirty-fifth birthday. She wondered what he was doing. Maybe she would give him a call later that day.

Ríone opened the door of the bathroom. She wiped her face with the towel before throwing it on the other side of the room. Then she went and sat on the edge of the bed. Just beside her lay her tote, the edges of the black booklet visible. Her brows furrowed.

She leaned over and took it out and placed it on her lap. The white of its title taunted her; it was the grin of the Cheshire cat. It challenged her to read it, to know for sure whether her friend had lost his mind. To know whether her demons were real or imagined. A dry chuckle escaped her lips. How worse could it get?

Taking in a deep breath, she started to read it.