I closed my eyes again, swallowing as another wave of sadness rushed over me. The pain was so bad that I wanted to double up, wail and scream - but none of that happened. Instead, a silent tear rolled down my cheek, tickling as it fell down to the pillow. I didn’t even have the energy to wipe it.

“Maisie? Sweetheart, are you awake for real this time?”

My dad’s voice used to be so comforting to me, the very essence of home, but I felt nothing as he spoke. Numbness and sadness were the only things that registered. I closed my eyes, hoping that if I faked sleep everything would just disappear. I couldn’t speak to anyone right now; if I did I wasn’t sure what would come out of my mouth. Maybe it would just be a banshee like scream that lasted forever.

A hand stroked the hair back from my forehead. “Are you okay?” Dad asked, his voice cracking either through emotion or worry.

The devastation of losing Luke, of finding out all of those awful things about him before that, all of it had just left me broken. My vision swam before my eyes as more tears pooled there. I felt like I was stuck in some sort of snowstorm, unable to see the end of this turmoil. Again, I had that notion of free falling, like I was hurtling towards the earth with no control and nothing to grab on to. Luke was my thing that I could always hold on to, but now he was gone. So this time I was going to hit the ground – actually, it felt as if I already had. It felt like I’d crashed down to earth at full speed, smashing everything in my wake, a fall that was sure to kill me. Only it hadn’t. And I hated that I was alive. I hated that Luke was gone and that I was going to have to deal with this all alone. For so long I’d had him to lean on, I wasn’t sure I could cope without him. I hated that my dad was trying to comfort me. I hated that all I wanted to do was scream, but I seemed to have lost the ability to do so.

“Mom’s outside getting some air. You want me to get Mom?” Dad asked, stroking my hair again. I turned my head, looking up at him properly for the first time. Worry lined his forehead and made crinkles around his concerned green eyes. He looked like he’d aged ten years since I last saw him. He smiled sympathetically as his thumb rhythmically brushed across my forehead like he always used to when he was trying to get me to go to sleep when I was a small child. “What can I do? Are you in pain? Want a doctor?” he asked. His voice was so stressed that before this happened I would have felt awful for putting him through this, but now that Luke was gone I couldn’t feel anything.

Using the all of my strength I twisted, rolling over so that my back was to him. I ignored the pain in my ribs and the tugging sensation in the back of my hand from the drip that I had inserted. I honestly couldn’t care less if it came free or not. I pulled the sheets up to my chin and laid there staring at the black sky out of the window as I cried silently, soaking my pillow within seconds.

Dad sat on the bed behind me, stroking the top of my head, gripping my shoulder too tightly for comfort. “I’m so sorry, Maisie. I wish I could stop this, I wish I could help you, but I just don’t know how,” he muttered. “Luke was a good guy. I know you loved him. I’m sorry he died, I’m so sorry. It may not feel like it now, but you’ll get through this, I promise. We’re all here for you.”

My thoughts wandered to the last conversation Luke and I had. My memories of him were now tarnished, now a little dirty and ruined because I’d found out the real him, the one that did all those horrible things, the one that had actually committed murder. The pain seemed to double in my chest because I couldn’t even grieve properly for my boyfriend because all that I could think about was the fact that he wasn’t the person I thought he was. I hated him for that, for ruining my memories and painting them with something dirty and unimaginable. But still I grieved for the future with him that I’d lost.

Somewhere in the back of my mind my dad’s words registered. Luke was a good guy? Did he really say that? Did he not know that Luke had driven us off of the bridge on purpose, that he had killed Sandy because she was threatening to tell me that Luke was the one behind all the strange things that had happened?

In a way I envied my dad. I wished I didn’t know about this part of Luke either. I wished that I still thought he was a good guy instead of the new things I’d learnt about him. Everyone was going to know what happened soon enough too. And I was the one that was going to have to deliver the blow. I was the one that was going to have to tell everyone what Luke was really like. It was me that was going to devastate his parents and friends by telling them the sweet and kind Luke didn’t actually exist. I was going to have to tell his mom that her son was a murderer. I had no idea how I was supposed to do that. How could I shatter the illusions of everyone and make them think ill of the dead?

My dad sighed and bent down, kissing my cheek softly before wiping away my tears. “I’m so sorry,” he croaked.

I swallowed loudly, closing my eyes. “Do his parents know that he… he…” I swallowed, unable to say the words. “Luke’s housekeeper will know how to get hold of them if they’re not in the country,” I muttered, not wanting to talk but knowing that I needed to.

“Yeah. They flew in yesterday morning. They came by to see you earlier but you were still unconscious.”

They flew in yesterday morning? The crash only happened last night. Or did it? “How long was I asleep for?” I asked, confused.

“Two and a half days. We were worried that you’d never wake up. Your mom’s been a mess; I swear I’ve never seen her like this at all. She’s usually so strong in hospitals but not this time. And Alex, even the nurses couldn’t get him to leave. He sat by your bed the whole time, even slept here. He said it was a twin loyalty thing.” His tone was light, as if he was trying to make me feel better. It didn’t work though. “Mrs Hannigan left you some stuff for when you woke up.” He shifted on the bed and my ears perked up at that. I turned my head, pushing myself up carefully as my dad offered me a lumpy brown bag.

My chin trembled as I fought the urge to break down. I didn’t want to be sedated again in case the nightmares started again. I looked down it, unsure if I was strong enough to see what was inside. Dad sat back down next to me and draped his arm across my shoulder supportively as he leant in and pressed his forehead to my temple. “You don’t have to look now if you don’t want to. Mrs Hannigan just wanted you to have these because she knew how close you two were,” he said soothingly.

I nodded, trying to breathe normally as my heart constricted. My hands were shaking as I reached into the bag, pulling out three things. The first was his football lettered jacket. He didn’t wear it very often; I had probably worn it more times than he had if I was honest. It still smelt like him though, and a strangled whimper left my lips as I held the soft material up to my nose and inhaled deeply. I knew then and there that I would never get over him. There would always be a part of me missing inside, a broken part that would never heal.

A sparkle of light caught my eye on my lap, so I moved the jacket, seeing that one of the other items was a silver photo frame, I recognised it immediately. I could barely make out the picture through the blurriness of my eyes where they were filled with tears, but I didn’t need to look to know it was the photo of us at the dance. It was Luke’s favourite picture and the one he had by his bed. He even had a smaller version of it in his wallet.

I hugged the photo to my chest as I picked up the last item. It was a small envelope with purple flowers in one corner. My name was written on the front in handwriting I didn’t recognise. I looked up at my dad, not wanting to open it in front of him. For some reason I needed to do this in private, but I couldn’t even explain why. My dad hadn’t moved the whole time that’d I’d opened the things. He smiled down at me now, brushing my matted hair over my shoulder.

“Think I can have some privacy to open this?” I asked, hoping he wouldn’t put up a fight. He didn’t. He just nodded, kissed my forehead and stood up, strutting out of the room and letting the door swing shut behind him.

I turned my attention back to the envelope. The writing was pretty, curly, and definitely female. I gulped as I slid in one finger, ripping it open and pulling out the single sheet of matching paper. I held my breath as I read the words.

Maisie,

I hope this letter finds you well. We did try to visit, but you were sleeping.

I’ve given you a couple of Luke’s things. He loved you so very much, and I know he would have wanted you to have them.

I missed so much of Luke’s life, I was barely around for him, and even when I was here I was too busy to spend time with him. I barely even knew him and what he liked and disliked. Had I known that the time with my son would be limited, I would have done things differently and spent more time with him. But it is too late now.

I never got the chance to tell him how proud I am of him. I never got to watch him play football, and I never got to see him dressed up in a tux to take you to the dance in this photo. I was too busy to do those things, and for that I will never forgive myself. I was a terrible mother to him, as you probably noticed, but I loved him dearly.

I wanted to thank you for making Luke so happy. If there was one thing I was sure of with Luke, it was that he was desperately in love with you. He told me several times that you were the one and that you two would be together forever. Had this terrible accident not happened I have no doubt in my mind that he would have been a fine man, and that you two would have gone off to college, gotten married, and then made me a grandmother several times over. I wish with all of my heart that could still happen.

I know I wasn’t there for Luke in his life, but if you let me, I would very much like to be there for you. I know you must be in agony right now, so if you need to talk or even want to come and sort through Luke’s possessions then you’re very welcome to come to the house any time. Perhaps, in time, I can get to know my son through you and your memories of him. I know this is a lot to ask of you, and I do not deserve it, but if you could find it in your heart, I would be most grateful.