” Oh shit. I ha一ve nothing to wear.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Tell me,” he insists.
“Tell me,” he insists.
“I ha一ve nothing to wear.”
Christian looks momentarily uncomfortable.
“Don’t be mad, but I still ha一ve all those clothes for you
at home. I am sure there are a couple of dresses in there.”
I purse my lips. “Do you, now?” I mutter, my voice
sardonic. I don’t want to fight with him tonight. I need a
shower.
The girl who looks like me is standing outside SIP. Hang
on—she is me. I am pale and unwashed, and all my
clothes are too big; I’m staring at her, and she’s wearing
my clothes—happy, healthy.
“What do you ha一ve that I don’t?” I ask her.
“Who are you?”
“I’m nobody . . . Who are you? Are you nobody,
too . . . ?”
“Then there’s a pair of us—don’t tell, they’d banish us,
you know . . .” She smiles, a slow, evil grimace that
you know . . .” She smiles, a slow, evil grimace that
spreads across her face, and it’s so chilling that I start to
scream.
“Jesus, Ana!” Christian is shaking me awake.
I am so disorientated. I’m at home . . . in the
dark . . . in bed with Christian. I shake my head, trying
to clear my mind.
“Baby, are you okay? You were ha一ving a bad dream.”
“Oh.”
He switches on the lamp so we’re bathed in its dim
light. He gazes down at me, his face etched with concern.
“The girl,” I whisper.
“What is it? What girl?” he asks soothingly.
“There was a girl outside SIP when I left this evening.
She looked like me . . . but not really.”
Christian stills, and as the light from the bedside lamp
warms up, I see his face is ashen.
“When was this?” he whispers, dismayed. He sits up,
staring down at me.
“When I left this afternoon. Do you know who she is?”
“Yes.” He runs a hand through his hair.
“Who?”
His mouth presses into a hard line, but he says nothing.
“Who?” I press.
“It’s Leila.”
I swallow. The ex-sub! I remember Christian talking
about her before we went gliding. Suddenly, he’s radiating
tension. Something is going on.
“The girl who put ‘Toxic’ on your iPod?”
He glan
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