Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-One

Havermouth, Five Years Before

Aislen woke, still restrained to the bed, and writhed beneath an urgent need to vomit. She strained against the restraints on her wrists. She fought until realizing she wasn't going anyway and turned her head, the only motion she could achieve, vomiting across her shoulder, past the edge of the mattress, and onto the floor.

Oh, fuck, she thought in the breathless panic left behind. Oh, fuck. She sank back onto the cushions, nauseated by the bitter taste in her mouth. Oh, God, she thought, what was she going to do?

The nurse came in within a few minutes. “Oh dear,” she exclaimed. “I am so sorry. We’ll get that cleaned up in no time.” She pressed the call button. “A shower will fix you right up, sweetie, and by the time you’re back… we’ll have this mess cleaned up.”

“Sure,” Aislen replied, knowing that the real mess wasn’t something that a mop could resolve.

Within ten minutes, she was released from the restraints and able to take a shower, which she spent braced against the tiles and hurling her stomach contents into the drain. She raised her face to the spray, letting it wash the bitter taste from her tongue, wondering what the fuck she was going to do about the problem that couldn’t just be washed away.

“Fuck,” she leaned her forehead against the cold tiles. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

She finished her shower and dressed in the sensible jeans and t-shirt that Tiffany had packed her. Her mother had gone with “beauty-queen practical” in her selection. It wasn’t sexual, but it also wasn’t lacking in aesthetic appeal. Pretty, put together, tight enough to give a hint of shape, but not low cut. Tiffany’s version of “court wear.”

And, for once, Aislen was grateful for it. After a bland, cardboard breakfast, she was led into a room where a boardroom table was framed by her parents, two police officers that she didn’t know, Dr. James, Ms. Grace, Mr. Salem, and a TV screen with the image of another man – the second medical opinion – who was off site.

She sat down in the seat next to her mother. “Thank you, Mr. Salem, for being here.”

“You’re welcome, Ms. Carter.” He was surprised. What did they think of her, the parents of the Triquetra, she wondered. Did they think that a girl who would sleep with all three of their sons, would be utterly bereft of manners?

“Thank you all for being here,” the man on the screen spoke. “I am Dr. Ramesh Sahib, and I have been asked to-”

“This is a case of a bereaved mother’s overactive imagination,” Mr. Salem intervened so smoothly that the interruption was barely noticeable. “Dr. James has, tragically, lost her daughter. Ms. Carter was one half of the unfortunate pair of teenagers who discovered the body of Penelope James. In her grief, Dr. James has overextended her reach, and over analyzed Ms. Carter’s simple expression of shared trauma and grief, and as a result, has overstepped her boundaries in having Ms. Carter detained and held overnight.”

“Dr. James?” Dr. Sahib was noticeably taken aback.

“Admittedly,” Dr. James’ eyes rested on Aislen. “I am over cautious in this case. It is hugely traumatic for all involved.”

“I barely even saw… anything,” Aislen said, edging away from using the term body. “Cameron and I were fighting. I pulled over because I can’t fight and drive at the same time – I’m new to driving. And fighting with stubborn boys," she added under her breath, and saw Ms. Grace smile in amusement. "When Cameron got out of the car, he saw… Penny…” She swallowed thickly. “And told me to call the police. I did. They came. I didn’t see anything, until we got back into the car, and only then, the very briefest of glimpses.

“We went to the vigil – it seemed like the right thing to do, and I said to Dr. James that I was terribly sorry… She pulled back and asked me what I had said…” Aislen flicked a glance at Dr. James. Would the doctor honour the agreement made during the night? “I didn’t know what she was talking about. Maybe she heard something that someone else said? I don’t know. But, anyway, Cameron and I went back to the river house, we had some drinks, and went to bed. That was it. Life was normal for a few days, until mum and I bumped into Dr. James at a shop. And then the police showed up last night…”

“That wasn’t it, though, was it?” One of the police officers said, referring to a notepad. “You were spotted at the graveyard drinking during school hours the following week.”

“I had a couple of rough days,” Aislen said. “Wouldn’t you? But I’m good now. I spoke to Ms. Grace,” she raised her eyebrows at the school counsellor seeking her support. “And my parents, and time… every night it gets a little easier.”

“I wish I could say the same,” Dr. James murmured, and Aislen bit her tongue resisting the urge to speak her truth.

“Dr. James is sensitive and bereaved,” Mr. Salem asserted again. “Aislen Carter has spoken to her school counsellor, she has an excellent scholarship to an art school in Rideten waiting for her attendance, and she has spoken with police. She has performed above and beyond her social duty in such a tragedy and should be commended, not punished, for it.

“As Dr. James attests, the discovery of a child’s body is a hugely traumatic event, but Aislen Carter has handled that event with dignity and aplomb, attending the vigil, wishing the bereaved parents well, winning a scholarship, maintaining her civil duties,” his gesture included everyone in the room, including the man on the TV screen. Aislen could see why he was a top attorney in Rideten, there was something about him that drew a person in and held them captive and complicit to whatever he wanted them to agree to. Rhett was the same, she thought, there was just something about him that made you look at him, made you want to be with him...

“What more can we ask from a barely eighteen-year-old girl?” Mr. Salem demanded. “Shouldn’t we, rather, be asking where we have failed her? She discovered this terrible tragedy, and rather than social support, she has been arrested, strapped to a bed overnight under the Mental Health Act, and held prisoner, for doing nothing more than being an eighteen-year-old child who has been witness to a hugely traumatic event?

He waited a heartbeat. “This detainment of Aislen Louise Carter under the Mental Health Act isn’t a reflection of Aislen’s mental health, but that of Dr. James', who started the proceedings. Dr. James is a remarkable and admirable woman, and she is to be commended for continuing her service to Havermouth over such a difficult time, but in this case, she is chasing ghosts. Literally. And as a result, she has victimized an innocent girl who did nothing more than get into an argument with her boyfriend.

“As a result of Dr. James’ hypervigilance, Aislen Carter was detained by police - a hugely traumatic and terrifying experience for an eighteen-year-old, let alone one who has recently undergone the trauma of discovering a child’s body,” Mr. Salem braced his hand on the table and leaned into his arm. “I move that this case be dismissed. Ms. Carter will waive her right to sue in return for her immediate freedom. Let’s all put this behind us and move on. Do we agree?”

Aislen was not surprised when all present agreed.

As she was released into her parent’s custody, the combination of shock and exhaustion made her dizzy and emotional. Tiffany and Patrick hurried her from the room before she could speak to Mr. Salem and thank him. He was talking with Ms. Grace in a low, intent voice, and Aislen saw him glance up, meeting her eyes as she looked over her shoulder at him. The police officers huddled around Dr. James, obviously discussing Penny.

"Come on Aislen, don't dawdle," Tiffany gave her a little tug towards the entry doors.

“This,” Tiffany hissed angrily as Patrick reversed out of the car park. “This is precisely what we warned you about, Aislen Louise. We’re not in the city anymore. In the country, they don’t tolerate mouthy women. They can’t openly discriminate against us, but they can punish us. Punish us for speaking out, for enjoying sex, for dressing or behaving in ways that they don’t approve of. You think that I’m extremist – but look at what they did to you. If they want to silence a woman, they don’t need to do it loudly. They know hundreds of thousands of ways to do so, legally, silently, in ways designed to humiliate and embarrass us into silence. And they will use them, make no mistake. We are the enemy, and they won’t hesitate to use those techniques against us.”

“For fuck sake, Tiff,” Patrick complained. “You’ve filled her head with your nonsense. That’s not what it’s like at all. The minority, those that deserve it, get treated that way. Not girls or women that…” He trailed off, his eyes meeting Aislen’s in the rear-view mirror as he realized what he had said.

“I deserved it?” She snarled at him. “I deserved it, did I dad? I discovered a body on the side of the road, and deserved to be strapped to a bed in a hospital overnight, terrified about what they might do to me in the morning? I deserved that?”

“That’s not what I meant,” he replied.

“What then?” Aislen demanded. “What did you mean?”

He pulled into their driveway. “I can’t talk to either of you when you’re like this,” he declared. “We’ll talk when you have both calmed down and are sensible enough to have a conversation with.”

Aislen and Tiffany both watched him leave the car and walk to the front door. “Right now,” Tiffany declared through her teeth. “I wonder why I married at all.”

"Mum," Aislen said softly. "I’m sorry."

Tiffany sighed heavily and got out the car.