I put my pencil down and look at my sketch.

It's the attic.

I quickly flip the page, looking at Aunt out of the corner of my eye. She can't see that, ever. There's a knock on the door and I sigh.

She is here.

My psychiatrist, Linda.

She walks in and smiles at me, showing off her set of pearly white teeth. She pushes her strawberry locks of hair back and purses her lips at me. "Come on, Nikki. I thought we were going to try to make things better."

I sigh and look up towards the ceiling Linda sits down beside me, "Dreams?"

"No difference."

"Replay?"

"None... so far." I reply. This is our routine. Linda makes some notes and then looks at me head-on.

"So? Do you want to tell me something? Anything?"

"I haven't got anything to say." I reply, "Apart from one thing. Will you take me back to Santa Monica - back to my home - with you?"

Linda looks at Aunt, who sighs audibly.

Linda puts her hand on my shoulder, "This is your home now, Nikki. The sooner you accept that, the better it is for everyone."

"This is not home. There are no memories here, I feel like I'm some sort of permanent guest. I... I don't belong here Linda." I say and then get up, "I'd hoped that you'd help me. But I can see now that you don't have any intention of doing that at all. You just want your damn money."

"My whole job is about helping you, Nikki. But I can't do that unless you're willing to help yourself first. Nikki, I know what you're going through is hard, but you can't keep going on like this."

"Going on like what?" I snap, "No matter what anyone says, I know what I saw. I felt it. You need evidence? Look at my leg. It's evidence enough, Linda!"

"Nikki..." Linda sighs, "I haven't come here to argue with you. It's my job as your psychiatrist to listen to your troubles. But this is a little too far-fetched, don't you think?"

I make a disgusted sound, "Linda, I trusted you. I believed in you. I stuck all of my hopes on you, Linda. That was obviously for no good reason. If you don't want to believe me, fine. Just go back to Santa Monica and delete my file and bin your notes and everything."

"Nikki, please. Can we talk about something else that doesn't get you so over worked up?" Linda pats the sofa.

"No! No, Linda, you don't understand! I just have to get out of here. Why are you treating me like I'm going crazy?"

"Because you're acting crazy, Nikki! Don't you realise what you're saying?"

"Yes, I do because it happened to me. Why did I even trust you? You're obviously going to join hands with my so-called family and tell me I'm just an idiot who would hurt myself." I burst, clenching my fists.

"You're not an idiot, Nikki." Linda shakes her head.

"Yeah, you're probably correct. I'm just deluded, right? The kid whose parents got killed in a crash, not so unscathed after all."

"Nikki, why are you saying that? You know it's not true." Linda looks tired.

"It is true!" I insist, "How can you not believe me? Do you want to see my leg? Do you need proof?"

"Nikki, please can we continue with the session?"

"No, we cannot because I don't need a psychiatrist. Not if the person can't trust me to say what the truth is and what is made up. I thought that you, out of all the people in this God-forsaken world, understood me!"

"Nikki, why are you taking it in such an offensive manner? I'm just here to make sure you're at the best mental health you can be at."

"Yes, and we all know how hard that is!" I snap and spin on my heel, storming up to my room. I look at the window, a sudden idea popping into my head. I bite my lip, looking towards the door. A mischievous smile plants itself on my face and I find myself drawn to the window.

A few short moments later, I drop from the kitchen roof on to the ground. Before Aunt and Uncle can notice, I run. Sprinting down the hill, I bump slap-bang into someone. I look up to see Shaun.

"What are you doing here?" We both say at the same time.

I sigh, "Whatever. Just don't tell my Aunt and Uncle you saw me down here."

"Running away?" Shaun grins sardonically.

"Running away?" I mimic, "No! I'm going for a walk... Aunt and Uncle don't need to know that. Got it, Shaun?"

"Ooh, bite me!" Shaun chuckles, "Don't worry, I won't tell. I will add to the drama instead."

I nod and then roll my eyes tiredly in a submissive manner, "I don't even care. Do what you want. I'm out."

I manoeuvre past him rapidly and continue on my way down. I only stop sprinting when I get to the arts and crafts shop, out of breath. I walk in and smell the familiar musty smell settling on the air. "Mrs Rolleston-Jones?" I look towards the hunched figure at the back. Mrs Rolleston-Jones turns to look at me.

"Hello, dear! Are you okay? I heard about what went down at Bellman Tower last night. It's all very unfortunate."

"I'm fine, thank you for asking, Mrs Rolleston-Jones." I nod gravely, or at least try to, "Erm, I actually came to ask you a favour. Do you know if anyone called Trevor used to live or still lives in Bellman Tower, where I live?"

"Trevor?" Mrs Rolleston-Jones looks apprehensive and a little shady, "My dear, why are you suddenly curious?"

"So there is somebody called Trevor who lives in Bellman Tower?"

"No, of course not!" Mrs Rolleston-Jones turns her back on me, laughing a little too hysterically, "It's just you and your Aunt and Uncle. Why would there be anyone else living there?"

Her response seems a little weird to me. Her reaction was nervous and even a little frightened. What is Trevor's story?

"Okay, erm, I was wondering if I could do a bit of painting here. I was feeling a bit... uncomfortable up at the Towers."

After painting a little, I leave it to Mrs Rolleston-Jones and head out again, looking around cautiously for any sign of Aunt and Uncle. I spot a bench and trudge over, sitting down, staring at my hands.

The wind whips my hair back but I pay no attention to it.

"Hey, I know who you are."

I look up to see a boy with sea-blue eyes, brown dishevelled hair, a straight nose and a chiselled jaw line standing in front of me. "Do you now?" I respond, rolling my eyes.

"Very welcoming." The boy says and sits down beside me, "I'm Jay. Jay Flint."

"Good to know." I say, picking at my jeans.

Jay raises an unbelieving eyebrow, "So? Your name?"

"Does it matter what my name is? You all think I'm crazy anyway." I say.

Jay frowns, "I don't. Come on, your name. Spit it out."

"Nikki Seville. There. You happy?" I roll my eyes, "Honestly."

That's more like it." Jay smiles approvingly, "I'm sure you can be very charming when you try, Nikki."

I snort and shake my head, "You really don't know me."

"I don't right now." Jay agrees, "But I think I can get to know you. Starting with a few questions. First question, why are you sitting on your own?"

"I am sitting here alone because I wanted to get away from the house."

"Yeah, that place is depressing." Jay nods.

I run a hand through my hair, "Understatement of the century."

Jay chuckles, a deep throaty sound that rumbles through his chest.

I sigh, "So. Mind telling me why you just decided to sit and talk to me?"

"Because you seem interesting." Jay says, "And because when I tell my sisters, they'll die of jealousy." He tacks on and I almost laugh at that.

"You have sisters?"

"I have two. Which is way way more than enough, by the way. I like the way you gracefully dodged the second part of my sentence." Jay nudges me knowingly.

I have to smile then, "Which part of your sentence?"

"The dying of jealousy part. It was very eloquently manoeuvred away from." Jay repeats.

I nod slowly, pressing my lips together in an effort not to laugh out loud and then say, "Okay. Why would your sisters die of jealousy because you're spending time with me? I'm not exactly anything special."

"You are to the villagers." Jay declares, "To the villagers, you're practically some sort of local celebrity.My sisters will be green with envy. And I mean it literally."

"That sounds interesting." I bite my lip, "Should we go and meet them? I want to see how they react to me, the big-time celebrity in front of their faces."

"At my house?" Jay looks incredulous. I shrug nonchalantly. Jay looks at me, then at the gravel at our feet and then stands up.