Cassie is self-sabotaging, a dry sense of humour, a sultry melody, a sarcastic remark. She's a dead gaze, smudged eyeliner, a garden of withering red tulips, and... an addict. 

Etienne is indecisive, anxious, classically handsome, a teller of great stories. He's a smile that doesn't reach the eyes, a lit cigarette, an alternative rock song, and a bad friend.  

It all started when they were only six years old. And it hasn't stopped. It keeps happening. They weave in and out of each other's lives, with their strange connection to blame. Their bond is both strengthened and weakened by their shared traumas. Their relationship is a ballad about codependency and the electricity of first love. 

Their lives are an unmanageable mess that sees them dwell in the world of drugs, depression, and the multitude of young women being found dead in the Merseyside Area. They each must confront their faith in second chances, fate, and circumstance. 

                                                         ― ― ― ― ― 

 And he's somewhere in the middle. But you can also find him at the beginning, and he'll be waiting for you by the end. He's everywhere. He is good with ropes, great at sketching, addicted to pornographic content. He hates his wife, hates his son, knows how to avoid leaving fingerprints on his victims.

ON MOUNT EVEREST WITH YOU.

"I would die for you. But I won't live for you." 


― Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being a Wallflower 


LIFE was not going great. But it was going. I suppose that was what mattered most those days. That I was moving, or rather that I'd been forced into motion. 


I tried to think of all the positives as I sat in the cosy little office that belonged to a lovely woman by the name of Dani Engler. I tried to hold on to those positives and not let them escape me the way they'd done a thousand times before. One of the easiest things to grasp whenever I started to feel a little restless was how genuinely at ease Dani's office made me feel. 


The room was cosy in a way large spaces rarely ever are. There was a lit fireplace to the right, tall bookshelves to the left, scented candles sprinkled here and there, and blankets draped over the back of the sofa where I sat. 


Chapter Thirty-Eight.