Invisible Monsters

by H L Macfarlane

  Andrew knew, then and there, that Kirsty’s genuine, selfless act of kindness was going to ensure she was sent home. Though in truth he still had no clue what was happening with everyone who was ‘scouted’, Poppy’s erratic self-decline implied that it wasn’t anything good.

  He wished she’d tell him.

  “Could those hickeys be any bigger, Casey?” Fred commented as he sauntered into the social area, raising his eyebrows at her before falling onto the couch beside Andrew. Andrew sidled over an inch or two, since Fred was too close.

  However, though Fred’s jibe had been aimed at Casey he was now looking at Poppy with a dead-pan stare. She met his gaze with a glower, but seemed to snuggle just a little further into the blanket she had wrapped around herself.

  Andrew didn’t understand. Poppy had no love-bites.

  “Very funny, Fred,” Casey replied as Patrick pretended to give her another one. She squealed and pushed him away.

  “Nothing wrong with a good hickey in the heat of the moment,” Patrick joked, kissing Casey’s forehead before pulling her back in against his chest. Poppy bristled despite herself, something which Casey noticed.

  She frowned. “Something wrong, Poppy?”

  “Nothing. Just a headache.”

  “You’re looking a bit anaemic these days, King,” Fred drawled. Andrew stared at him; the comment hadn’t sounded like he was concerned. Rather, it felt altogether like an accusation, though Andrew wasn’t sure why.

  “Leave off it, Sampson.”

  “You sure Kapros didn’t go too far giving you hick–”

  “I said leave it alone.”

  “Oh, but we’re all so curious, Poppy,” Casey joined in. Again, Andrew was sure the comment wasn’t meant kindly. He had to wonder why everyone was rounding on Poppy when she was clearly feeling miserable.

  Poppy didn’t look at her. “About what?”

  “Don’t act coy now! You know fine well we’re dying to know what happened with you and Dorian.”

  “Aw, leave her be, Cass,” Patrick said. “What happened between them is between them.” Andrew was grateful for him saying so, though he wasn’t sure if Patrick had spoken on Poppy’s behalf or Dorian’s.

  Casey merely scowled. “What, so Poppy just gets away with it again? Never accountable for her actions, even when she swears just five minutes before being carried away by the guy that she has absolutely no interest in him whatsoever? Nah, I’m calling bullshit.”

  “What are you insinuating, Casey?” Poppy asked, bristling beneath her blanket.

  “You know fine well what I’m insinuating! And this isn’t even the first time you’ve done this to me!”

  “…what?”

  Casey extricated herself from Patrick to stand up. “Oh, look at me, I’m the perfectly daring, irresponsible Poppy King,” she mocked, imitating her friend in a way that made Andrew deeply uncomfortable. To his left Fred choked on a laugh.

  Andrew didn’t like seeing the two of them making fun of Poppy, so he got up and left as quickly as possible. When he was halfway across the social area he saw Dorian walking towards him, so Andrew stopped, at a loss for what to do.

  “Stop being a bitch,” Poppy muttered, though there was no malice to her words. She merely sounded resigned.

  Casey laughed incredulously. “I’m the bitch? Not the girl who, after hearing that her friend is super into a guy, immediately goes after that guy because she knows they’ll fall for her instead? Even when she claims not to be interested?”

  “Just lay off, Casey.”

  “No, why should I?” She swept her gaze around the social area, just as Dorian reached Andrew’s side. Poppy couldn’t see the two of them standing and watching from where she sat, so Dorian’s presence remained unknown to her.

  Dorian stayed silent as he observed what was going on. Andrew wanted to run away, but he didn’t know how to do so without being awkwardly rude.

  “I shouldn’t keep quiet about it any longer,” Casey continued, “not when most of the club still fawns over how great you are. Well guess what, Poppy: you’re not so great. You were a shitty friend to Rachelle when she was going out with Fred, and you were even shittier when I liked Nate and still decided to screw him for fun.”

  Andrew thought Poppy would say something in response. Anything. Instead she merely hung her head in silence and kept to herself.

  “See, she won’t even defend herself,” Casey said cruelly. “She knows I’m right! And Nate wasn’t even the first guy she did this with. He was just the one who hurt me most, because I liked him so much. But that didn’t matter to you, did it, Poppy? Just so long as you had your fun, right?”

  Patrick held out a hand to try and pull Casey back onto the armchair but she shirked him off. “Come on,” he said, “you’ve said your piece. Now –”

  “Don’t try and shut me up, Patrick! This has been a long time coming, and anyone who has ever mattered to Poppy knows it.”

  Finally, Poppy dropped her blanket and stood up. She walked over to Casey with an eerie calm, though Andrew could see her hands were shaking.

  “You’re right,” she uttered. “Of course you’re right. I’m the worst. And yet still –”

  She slapped Casey in the face, the sound reverberating off the walls so viciously Andrew was taken aback by the noise. Then she promptly turned and ran out of the social area towards her bedroom without looking at anyone.

  Beside Andrew, Dorian rubbed his left cheek as if he’d felt the slap himself. He glanced at him. “You know, don’t you?”

  “No,” Andrew replied matter-of-factly. “I don’t know anything about girls.”

  Dorian merely shook his head, leaving for his office as he laughed to himself.

  It took Andrew a beat too long to realise Dorian may have been referring to something else entirely. Something that wasn’t to do with the girls fighting each other.

  I do know, he thought as he watched Fred and Patrick console Casey. But I also don’t. And I don’t know how to make Poppy trust me enough to tell me everything.

  And so Andrew retreated to his bedroom, determined to work out what to say and do so that Poppy would, finally, confide in him. He desperately wanted to knock on Poppy’s door and make her feel better after her argument with Casey, but he knew he’d likely flounder and fail.

  He was glad Nate hadn’t been around for their argument. Something told Andrew his presence would have only made things worse. But despite Nate not being there, Andrew still knew one thing for certain.

  Everything was about to get worse anyway.

  INTERLUDE V

  Nobody joined them this week. Nicolas had lost both his legs, just like Megan before him. He couldn’t stop screaming, especially whenever he looked at his best friend, Tom. Tom hadn’t lost anything yet, but there was a fear in his eyes that told Nick he knew it was only a matter of time.

  Going by what Megan was saying and the empty look in Craig’s eyes, it was only a matter of time for all of them.

  GRACE KANG

  Fred

  After Casey’s long-awaited beat-down of Poppy, Fred had been temporarily too gleeful to follow around after her to work out what she was hiding. But now, five days later, he was well and truly back to being suspicious of Poppy King.

  There was something deeply…wrong. And it seemed only tangentially related to her falling out with Casey. Poppy was paler, and frailer, though she seemed determined to put her all into any activity the club took part in. Every ounce of energy Poppy had was being thrown into besting each and every one of her club members at climbing, diving, abseiling, and mountain biking. She was even demolishing Andrew on their morning jogs, insisting they go even further and faster than the day before.

  And she was avoiding Dorian like the plague. Everyone else assumed it was because of what Casey had said. Fred knew better.

  For when he spied Poppy and Dorian together in the meadow he was sure she’d been bleeding. Dorian had bitten her. Bitten her. And yet when Fred had loo
ked for signs of the man’s violent onslaught there had been nothing.

  Poppy’s skin was smooth and unblemished, as if Dorian had never touched it.

  It didn’t make any sense. And when Fred had made a comment about love-bites she had shied away from it, as if she knew there was something wrong.

  Which meant there was something wrong. And it didn’t just have to do with Poppy, but with Dorian, too.

  Yet it was Poppy who was the key. Through Poppy Fred would finally understand what the hell was going on.

  He just had to work out how.

  “What are you thinking about so hard?” Rachelle asked, knocking Fred on the head with her knuckles as she sat down beside him. He was sitting outside, feet swinging in the pool, enjoying the fresh air and relative quiet that allowed him to mull over his thoughts properly.

  He looked away. “You don’t want to know.”

  “Jesus Christ, Fred,” Rachelle sighed, already exasperated with him as she took her shoes off to dip her feet in the water. “Will you just give Poppy a break? Do you not think Casey giving her the cold shoulder is enough for her?”

  He snorted. “She deserved it, and you know it.”

  “You really asking me if I believe my best friend deserved to be humiliated in front of everyone for something that should have been a private discussion?”

  “And there you go, defending her again over everyone else.”

  “You know,” she said, clearly irritated, “you’re just as bad as Poppy is. Worse, even. You pride yourself on being sensible and careful and for always looking out for people, but you absolutely thrive on pissing her off and insulting her.”

  “She does the exact same to me!”

  “Yes, but here’s the thing: I hate it when you do it.” Rachelle stared at him with a stony expression. “You mean everything you say. You want every barbed word out of your mouth to do as much damage as possible. Poppy doesn’t think about what she’s saying at all.”

  “And that somehow makes her better?”

  “Yes, because it isn’t premeditated! Even now, you’re sitting here obsessing over her being suspicious. You wanna know how much time she wastes thinking about you? Precisely none. Why can’t you give it a rest?”

  “Because something’s wrong!” Fred exclaimed, making to touch Rachelle’s shoulder before thinking better of it. “She’s hiding something. Don’t tell me you can’t see it.”

  Rachelle looked like she was about ready to explode. “She’s miserable, Fred, that’s what’s wrong! I genuinely don’t think she wanted Dorian to kiss her, and now Casey has fallen out with her, and Poppy’s absolutely not speaking to anyone but Andrew because of it and I’m pretty certain she’s homesick as hell.”

  Fred raised an eyebrow. “You finished justifying her actions for her yet?”

  “You’re such a dick when you want to be, you know that?” Then Rachelle looked down at her hands, which she was twisting nervously in her lap. “And I think…”

  “What?”

  She sighed. “I think she’s – I don’t know – scared of Dorian. Or something. I can’t put my finger on it. But her avoiding him isn’t just because of him kissing her, I’m sure of it.”

  Of course Fred thought back to Dorian biting her open. Right up until that moment Poppy had looked scared. And sad, and uncertain, though Fred didn’t care too much for those emotions right now.

  Poppy being scared of Dorian was a clue he hadn’t really taken into consideration yet.

  So she’s scared of him, but let him hurt her. Only she wasn’t hurt at all. She –

  “Rachelle.”

  His ex-girlfriend seemed surprised by Fred only saying her name. “What is it?”

  “Have you ever seen Poppy without bandages or that compression sleeve on her arm?”

  She frowned. “No. Why would I?”

  “She never asked you to help her wrap up her arm? Even though you’re her best friend and the first aider for the club?”

  “Why would she? Poppy always goes to the infirmary to have them changed. Look, Fred, just leave her alone –”

  “I know,” he interrupted. He stood up and retrieved his shoes. “I will.”

  Rachelle got up, too. “Where are you going?”

  “To make a sandwich. I’m hungry. You want one?”

  “Um, no thanks,” she replied, blushing slightly. She ran a hand through her hair somewhat uncomfortably. “Robin and I are going to have a picnic in the meadow soon, so…”

  Fred didn’t trust himself to say anything that didn’t sound false in response. He made do with smiling before setting off for the kitchen, knowing Rachelle could see right through his faux-sincerity.

  “I can’t believe she played around with Nate, knowing Casey liked him. What a bitch,” a female voice said just in front of him. It was Grace Kang, talking to Ciaran Radin-Kirkwood, one of the male club members Fred didn’t particularly like. Grace’s best friends – Angelica and Megan – had both been scouted; clearly she was desperate for new friends to talk to.

  Or bitch to, he thought as he followed behind them on the way to the kitchen.

  “You know Craig was gonna try his luck with Poppy? Glad he didn’t, all things considered. Although had Casey been into him then no doubt Poppy would have thrown herself at him.”

  Grace cackled. “Exactly. Casey said it all! God, Poppy is such a low-key slut and we never knew it. At least Casey was honest about sleeping around. Poppy lying about doing the same is what makes her so much worse.”

  The pair of them paused when Poppy herself appeared in the kitchen doorway. Her expression suggested she’d heard their entire conversation.

  “Yes, I’m such an awful person,” Poppy muttered, shouldering past Grace unapologetically in the process. As soon as she was behind them her face darkened into something akin to spite, only much worse. For some reason it gave Fred pause.

  Poppy looked intimidating, even taking into account the sickly pallor of her face and generally underfed appearance.

  When she spied Fred her mouth twisted into a scowl.

  “Just…fuck off, Sampson,” she muttered before rushing away, though Fred hadn’t intended on saying anything at all.

  Fred realised that he wanted to do something he had literally never imagined doing in the six years he’d known Poppy King.

  He wanted to speak to Poppy alone. Away from Rachelle and Andrew and Nate and Casey. Away from the club. Away from Dorian.

  Fred had questions he wanted answered.

  Poppy would give him those answers, even if he had to force them out of her.

  RICHARD DEACON

  Poppy

  It was late. So late that nobody was awake, and therefore nobody bothered Poppy on her way to the kitchen, though she didn’t know why she was going there. She had no appetite. She wasn’t thirsty. But she couldn’t sleep, and she couldn’t bear lying in her room, wide awake and so close to people who were no longer speaking to her.

  And so Poppy reached the kitchen, turned the tap on for want of background noise, slid down against the fridge to the floor, and wept. She wept like she’d done on that first night ten weeks ago, when she’d discovered the horrific truth about Dorian and his outdoor sports facility. She wept until she was choking on her sobs, barely able to breathe.

  But it wasn’t enough. There was no outpouring of emotion that could make Poppy feel better. She and Casey were resolutely not talking to each other. The rest of the club was dutifully keeping its distance until the two girls sorted out their differences, except for Andrew, whom Poppy was spending more and more time with. But their time together was largely silent simply because Andrew had no idea what to say and Poppy didn’t have it in her to speak. Even Nate and Rachelle were giving Poppy some space, though she was sure they were doing it because they thought space was what Poppy wanted.

  It wasn’t.

  But in five weeks they’d all be gone in one way or another, and Poppy would be left behind. Alone, with the weight of her de
cisions crushing her. Only she wouldn’t be alone.

  She would be with Dorian, and that was worse.

  Poppy had dutifully allowed him to drink from her the week after she’d found out about how Casey had belonged to Patrick from day one. All she’d uttered was the name of the person she was saving – Kirsty White, simply because she gave Poppy those painkillers. It was a small gesture, but it was the nicest thing that had happened to Poppy that entire week, and ultimately Kirsty was a good person.

  But Poppy was running out of obviously good people and bad people. Or, more to the point, she was running out of people doing bad things that warranted being singled out for.

  And she couldn’t save Casey. Even though she wanted to. Even though she was desperate to. Dorian wouldn’t let Poppy save her, and it was killing her inside.

  Dorian hadn’t even tried to speak to her since she’d slapped him. Even when he’d drained her of blood he’d kept as impersonal as possible, and when Poppy wavered and swayed on the spot afterwards he didn’t try to help her.

  In fact, even as her health obviously deteriorated Dorian continued to say nothing. Poppy was pouring all her energy into beating absolutely everyone at any task set in front of them, to the point that Nick, Steven and – reluctantly – Aisling grew more and more impressed with her with every passing day. But despite her showing off, Dorian didn’t once try to break Poppy or their silence in retaliation.

  Poppy wasn’t even acting out so that he would say something to her. She wanted Dorian as far away from her as possible. No. Poppy was hoping, bleakly, that she would continue to weaken and wear herself out until, eventually, she would slip and fall from a ledge that was simply too high for her to recover from.

  Poppy King wanted to die, but she didn’t have the courage to pick up a knife and put herself out of her own misery.

  She felt pathetic.

  “…Poppy? Is that you?”

  She darted her head up, wincing when the lights flickered on. The fluorescent brightness danced in front of her eyes, only made worse by the heavy tears stuck between her lashes.