I don't wake up in my own bed on Sunday morning. The first thing I notice is that it's comfier, the mattress practically soaking up my warmth and using it to keep the bed at a cosy temperature. The duvet is thick and completely cocoons me and the bed is very spacious, decorated with multiple pillows. I never want to leave.

I snuggle further into the crisp material, breathing in the clean scent and willing my eyes to close once again so I don't have to deal with life for a few more hours. I'm about to drift off before the door opens and the blonde, Asian girl- Chelsea?- walks through.

"Shit, sorry," she says with a small laugh. "I didn't think I'd wake you up."

I shake my head, manoeuvring the pillows so I can sit up comfortably. "I woke up a few minutes ago."

"Ah," she says. She closes the door and steps over to a white and gold chest-of-drawers, crouching down to search for something.

"Just so you know," she starts, shutting one drawer to rummage through another. "After Jayden brought you here, Danielle sent Zavier and I to get some stuff from your house while your family were sleeping. We got stuff like your phone and a bunch of clothes so... you don't have to worry about that."

"Oh," Is all I manage to say as my sleepy mind processes the information. "You didn't have to do that."

She shrugs, finally finding whatever she was looking for. "We kind of did. Whenever Danielle tells you to do something, it's probably for the best that you do it."

"How did you know where I live?"

She snorts as if the answer is the most obvious thing in the world. "Enoch is the smartest guy in the world. He can track anyone down."

I nod in understanding, picking at a loose thread of the duvet. Chelsea glances over at me, her eyes, framed by dark eye-shadow and winged eye-liner, softening slightly. "Chin up. We have breakfast cooking downstairs. Your stuff is down there, too."

"Okay," I smile, watching as she leaves the room. The smile dissolves as soon as the door is clicked shut.

Reluctantly getting out of bed, I notice that my clothes have been swapped into a large, white shirt and pyjama shorts. Both pieces of underwear are still covering my body, though. Thank goodness.

Since arriving at the mansion last night, I remember someone cleaning the wound on my cheekbone while another gave me something to drink. I remember tattoos and beautiful, dark skin, and that's about it. The rest is a blur as the exhaustion overtook my body and I was barely conscious when I was brought to bed. I must've slept for hours, the best nights sleep I've had in a long time, but I still have an anxious feeling gnawing at my insides that hasn't gone since Mum took that phone call.

The sensation makes me think of my family. They're probably still sleeping, as they usually do until late on a Sunday morning. They'll wake up soon and see that I never came home. Will they be glad? Devastated? Will Mum regret what she's done? I really don't know.

My stomach starts grumbling at the idea of breakfast and I suddenly wish my Dad was around to make another stupid pregnancy joke. I dismiss the longing thought and make my way down a set of curved, marbled staircases, briefly gazing up at the twinkling chandelier above. I follow the sounds of laughter and the aroma of food into a very specious kitchen. Everyone quietens down as I make my appearance.

"Ah, Aurora," Danielle says. "How are you feeling?"

For a moment I take in her beauty even in the early morning. She's wearing a white, satin nightgown that ends quite far up her golden thighs and she must have put make up on already. No one can have skin that perfect.

I refocus on her question. "Um, all right, I guess."

She smiles, pushing a plate of food towards me. "You should eat. Have as much as you like."

I look down at the bacon, eggs and two slices of toast and meet eyes with the grey ones of Zavier, who sits beside me with a smoothie in hand.

"This food is stolen, isn't it," I state, rather than ask in a hushed tone.

He chuckles, bringing his drink to his lips. "Everything around you is stolen."

Ironically, as I glance back down at my food, I notice a piece of bacon missing from my plate. "Better get used to it," Blake says as he plops down into a seat. He drops my bacon into his mouth, chewing with a smug face. I guess he must be a decent thief to be involved with this group, but damn, are these people really that good?

Scanning the room, I notice that Maeve is the only one yet to make her appearance. While Zavier sits beside me and Blake sits opposite, Danielle is stood, talking with Jayden and Colby, and Enoch and Chelsea are also in conversation, laughing about something together. With the quite hum of a radio in the background and the friendly conversations, you wouldn't expect these people to be part of a gang who shoot people and steal stuff for the thrill of it. You'd just think that they're a bunch of university house-mates or a weird, dysfunctional family.

When Maeve does enter, her pink hair is bedraggled and the bags under her eyes are prominent. "Morning, guys."

A quiet chorus of friendly 'mornings' floats around the room.

"Someone was tired," Jayden comments.

Maeve rubs at her eye. "Yeah, sorry, I... fancied a lie in."

"It's fine, Maeve," Danielle reassures. "We don't have anything planned until this evening."

I find myself perking up at this. "What kind of plans?"

Danielle's effortless confidence seems to falter at this, as she locks eyes with Zavier and chews anxiously at the side of her mouth. The rest of the room also goes quiet.

"It's just a standard raid," Danielle starts. "A few of us will be going to a mall not too far away to get some valuable items that we can sell. You can go if you want, but I understand that you might not feel up to it after yesterday."

All eyes are on me as I struggle for an answer.

"You won't have to do anything," Zavier cuts in. "You can hang back with Jayden and watch the others. I'm sure Maeve, Blake, Colby and Chelsea will show you how it's done."

Blake's eyebrows shoot up. "Wow, I'm actually allowed out again?"

"Don't push it," Danielle warns.

I notice Chelsea fiddle with the back of an earring. "Actually, I don't think I can go today." She gives Danielle a single, knowing look and surprisingly, Danielle nods in understanding, as if that one look explained everything.

"I'll get you something that might help your... situation, Chelsea," Maeve promises, filling her mouth with a spoonful of cereal. She avoids my eye, like I've been doing to her for the entire week at school. I wonder when I'll be expected to go to school again.

After breakfast, I go out into the main entrance where Zavier tells me that my belongings are waiting. Sure enough, there's two unfamiliar suitcases sitting there, with my phone and laptop on top of the smaller one.

I look at my stuff for a second, contemplating whether I should haul them up the many stairs to my bedroom or simply burn the lot. It's only clothes, they can easily be replaced, and I'm not sure if I need any reminders of my old life lingering in my room like a bad smell. However, before I can lug it outside and find the matches, I feel a presence behind me, emerging from the kitchen.

"Need some help with those?" Colby asks, coming to stand beside me. "Or we can dump it all in the lake."

I chuckle at him unknowingly reading my mind. "How did you know?"

He shrugs. "We've all wanted to. But if you want my advice, at least keep the clothes until we can get you some new ones."

I don't reply, but it's only a few seconds later when he says, "I'll take the bigger one?" and I nod.

While he grabs it with ease and begins the trek up the staircase, I lift up my phone and turn it on, only to see that it's dead. Sighing, I tuck my laptop under my arm before lifting the suitcase with my free hand and following Colby.

He places his down outside of the door when we've made it to my room, opening the door for me. I thank him before he makes his way back down the stairs, leaving me to drag my suitcase in along with the other. Fortunately, I manage to find my phone charger under a t-shirt in the larger suitcase and I'm quick to bring my phone back to life.

I lie back on the soft sheets for a few minutes while I wait for it to charge up a bit, still bewildered at how much life has changed in a matter of a few hours and how this place already feels like a home, before the phone screen lights up and turns on.

But as I read the messages, I kind of wish I had just burnt all my belongings after all.

YOU'RE NEVER TO COME BACK TO THIS HOUSE AGAIN.

I'm so glad you're gone for good. You were a burden on this family.

If I ever see your face again I'm throwing a brick at it.

Wow. They sound like the pathetic insults that Connie would throw at me when she was five. Back then I'd laugh at her. But these are so much different, like a bullet in the brain rather than a measly poke in the arm. Because they're all from Mum.

All 114 of them.

I can't even find it within me to cry, and I can't help but scroll and read every single messages. All the death threats, all the insults and every ounce of anger she's ever held against me pouring through the phone screen. There's none from Dad, none from my brothers. No Sean asking me if I'm okay or Tristan coming up some ridiculous plan for the three of us to live together on a private island.

I'm quivering like a leaf when I've ready every messaged, my heart having dropped to my ass, but I don't cry. I don't because I expected it all.

Because it's not just about the stupid pageant. It's every other time that I've held her back. I was an unwanted pregnancy who she'd wanted to abort. I was a terribly behaved child, having tantrums that could lead into the early hours of the morning. I then grew into my teenage years and I'd get excited whenever Mum and I hadn't argued in over forty-eight hours. She'd insult me so I'd throw them back with more venom. She'd hit me and I'd hit back harder. The pageant scandal was just an opportunity to finally get me out of the way, so she could focus on those things that were genuinely important to her, and I was never one of those things.

So no, I don't cry, because there's a part of me that knows I deserve every message she's sent.

Instead, I switch my phone back off, place it on the bedside table, and leave the room.