I wake up in an unfamiliar room.

It takes me a moment to register my surroundings. I'm lying on a bed, on top of the covers and fully dressed (thank god), apart from my cardigan, which is hanging over the arm of a wooden chair in the corner of the room.

It's a small room, with stone walls, a fireplace directly opposite the single bed and a bunch of yellow flowers in a clay mug on the windowsill.

Branches and jewel-green leaves suffused with soft late morning light dance outside the window.

I must be on the upper level of the cabin. This might even be the room Lyall was in before he came downstairs. I wonder how long I was out this time?

I sit up, swinging my legs around the side of the bed. I stand up too soon and have to sit down again as a rush of black suddenly washes over me and recedes just as quickly.

That's right. I was in such a rush to get to Zee's house, and then to get my bike, that I totally forgot to eat breakfast this morning. I'll have to wrap things up here quickly...

My heart skips a beat as I remember what I said to the boys just before I fainted. I say yes to the whole stupid thing. For some unfathomable reason, I went and told them I'd take up their offer and help them with their new album, even though I didn't really mean to say it.

Dammit. How am I meant to get out of this now?

I stand up again, more slowly this time.

Only one thing to do. I'll go downstairs, talk to them face to face. Tell them I was delirious. Tell them I didn't mean it.

I notice a huge mirror with an intricately carved wooden frame on the wall next to the bed. The wood has been shaped into a swirling design of leaves and roses, almost as if to match the roses growing outside the house. I run my fingers over the smooth woodwork, wondering why it feels so familiar. There's a memory fighting just below the surface, but I don't have time to dwell on it.

I scrutinize my reflection in the mirror. My hair's a mess. There are dark circles under my eyes. And my skin looks even more deathly pale than usual, probably from having not eaten yet today.

I look like I've seen a ghost. No, I look like I am a ghost.

I smooth down my long pale blonde hair, wishing I had a brush or even a comb with me. I bite my lips and gently pinch my cheeks, trying to get a bit more color into my face.

If this is the last time I see these guys, I don't want them to remember me looking like the living dead.

Once I'm satisfied that I no longer look like I just crawled out of a grave, I grab my cardigan off the back of the chair and walk into the corridor outside the room. There are several other doorways along its length, probably leading to more bedrooms.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

I walk down a narrow iron spiral staircase, noting an ominous creaking sound and slight swaying with every step.

I glance down into the entrance hall as I descend, and I'm struck once again by how spacious it all is. It's somehow cozy, with the rustic stone walls and wooden finishes, and yet strangely grand at the same time. This place must have cost a fortune to build.

Felix mentioned that Bea was the one who told him about this place. He said she owns it. Bea was gran's best friend as long as I can remember, and in all the years I've known her, she's never once mentioned anything about owning a cabin out in the forest.

Everyone has secrets, I guess.

I walk out into the deserted entrance hall.

Maybe I'm alone. They might have all gone out somewhere.

I wander into the open-plan kitchen living room, noticing cushions strewn on the floor, empty coffee cups and dirty dishes piled high on the kitchen counter.

I can hear voices from outside the house. I head over in the direction the sound is coming from, towards the massive floor-to-ceiling stained glass window at the far end of the room.

I can't believe it was just yesterday that I was standing in front of this window discussing it with Lyall. It feels like it was forever ago.

I cast my eyes around the window, taking in the bizarre scene it depicts. It feels so vivid, so real and alive that I almost expect it to have changed overnight. But the figure of the silver-tailed mermaid is still in the centre of the window, surrounded by her five stained-glass captors (or suitors, according to Lyall).

I can hear voices through the glass, but I can't make out any actual words. The boys must be in the mossy forest clearing outside the cabin.

I try to see through to the outside through the stained glass, pressing my face up against a large crimson pane, but it's all a swirling red blur with flickers of movement, as if the world outside is swimming in blood.

"Brave of you to come back," a sultry voice whispers in my ear.

I jump about two feet into the air, shrieking so loud that I'm surprised the glass didn't shatter.

I turn around and see Kitty standing right beside me, her arms crossed in front of her chest.

"I really didn't think I'd ever see you again," Kitty says. "I'm surprised you're here."

You're not the only one.

"I just came back to get my bike," I say. "Things got... off track."

"Yeah, Felix said you fainted," Kitty says, flicking her eyes up and down my body like she's looking for the source of my weakness, the broken part. "Seems like you do that a lot."

"I guess," I say, as the image of Kitty pinning me to the tree just yesterday creeps back into my mind.

"Anyway, I'm going to head off now," I say, turning around and heading towards the door. "Tell the guys to ignore what I said before I passed out. I wasn't thinking straight. Tell them I say thanks for everything."

"Not so fast," Kitty says. She lunges forward and grabs my wrist, turning me around to face her.

"You're hiding something," she says. "The way you reacted when I got up in your grill yesterday, the stuff that Felix says happened this morning... I know something's not right."

She stares hard at me, as if she's trying to see behind the mask. When she speaks again, her voice is softer.

"Please Ashling, I really want to give you a chance," she says. "I'm not really a bitch, if you can believe that. I think, maybe I might have been a bit hasty yesterday. But I don't want to leave things like this, I really don't. Help me understand. Tell me what your deal is."

What I really want to do is just turn around, march out of this cabin, and never look back. Why should I share my personal story, my tragedy, with this stranger, a girl who pretty much attacked me yesterday? Why her?

If not her, then who?

There's nothing to lose by letting Kitty in on my secret, except for maybe a bit of weight off my burden.

So I sigh, sit down in an armchair in front of the fireplace, and I tell Kitty my whole sad, sorry story.