I felt like my brain was on two percent battery. There was a heaviness to my eyelids, making it feel as if I fastened anchors to them. All I wanted to do was hop into bed and snooze the rest of the day away. Christian also kept me awake on the nights that I spent in his room. He showed me sensitive parts of my body that I didn't even know existed.

Sometimes I felt bad, like I was using him. When it came to sexual encounters, I was inexperienced, but I knew that a woman could please a man too. I just didn't know how to. Christian assured me that my pleasure was his. I believed him, truly, but I was still going to research more on pleasuring a man.

A shriek alerted me abruptly, causing me to open my eyes. When I apprehended that one of my teammates merely tumbled over the ball, I drooped against the wall, bringing my feet onto the bench.

It was so scorching outside and I couldn't fathom how these girls weren't yet passed out. I, on the other hand, felt like I was about to slip into a coma. Closing my eyes, I let a sigh of contentment leave my lips as I felt my mind floating towards unconsciousness.

"Well, aren't you adorable?"

A groan escaped, and I peeked through half-lidded eyes to stare at Kenzie, who slumped onto the ground in front of me. Her uniform was caked with dirt and her face was damp with the water she just splattered herself with. "How are you still functioning?" I murmured, closing my eyes again. "That practice was absolute torture."

Kenzie chuckled at my rejoinder before saying, "you haven't even experienced the worst of it yet. These were just group practices. Wait till you have a session with Coach Finn. Your bones will sweat and you'll be plotting his murder in your head."

I stiffened at the mention of Liam, utterly dreading practice with him. So far, practice had simply been some stretches, and we usually worked in groups. But with Liam, it would only be us, and I felt my anxiety peak at the mere thought of it. He would definitely figure out something was up with me. I usually only played the sport with my family, but now I was surrounded by strangers.

Another pained groan left me, prompting Kenzie to snort before poking my knee. "I'm so tired," I moaned, feeling as if I was about to fall comatose. Weirdly, Kenzie didn't ridicule me for my complaints. I opened one eye and caught the awkward glance she tossed me. "What?"

There was pity in her eyes and I hated it, immediately wanting back the usual mischievous glint she had. She could barely make eye contact with me and I recognised her behaviour immediately. I had once witnessed Mary behave this same way, but I hoped my inkling was wrong. Frowning slightly, she asked, "you really don't remember, huh?"

Suddenly, I was no longer tired; I sat up straight, setting my converse clad feet onto the ground. I choked down the bile that was threatening to crawl up my throat, clenching my fists and feeling my nails dig into my palms. "What are you talking about?"

Kenzie looked like she was internally battling herself. Eventually, she said, "well, last night you had a nightmare." My blood ran cold, but she persevered. "You were crying, begging me not to leave. Spent half of the night comforting you until you eventually went back to sleep." She sent me a tender smile. "That's why you're so tired."

I cleared my throat awkwardly, feeling my eyes glisten. For a split second, I allowed years of grief to reflect in my eyes before I quickly blinked, glancing away from her. She probably thought I was a freak. I'd been in California for around three weeks, and it made me wonder how frequent the nightmares were. Honestly, I thought they'd been getting better.

Peeping towards the field where some girls were messing around, I urged, "does that happen often?" I didn't want to be a burden anymore. I'd feel absolutely dreadful if I kept her up every night, and she was just too kind to let me know. Mary said that sometimes I didn't remember waking up and crying. I pleaded for my eldest sister to let me know whenever it happened, but she never did, not wanting me to stress myself out.

Kenzie shook her head, and I let out the sigh of relief I didn't even know I was holding. "Nope. Usually, you just twist and turn in your sleep, but last night was the first time you were semi-conscious." She scooted closer, placing a hand on my knee. Her eyes were filled with questioning and sympathy. "Are you okay? Do you wanna talk about it or something?"

"Not really," I mumbled, fidgeting with the daisy pendant around my neck. It was a constant loop, these nightmares. For some time, I thought that I'd escape them, but I never did. It was like black smoke, swallowing me every second it got. Finally, mustering up the courage, I inquired, "have you told anyone about this?"

She heaved a brow, her mouth dropped open in shock. "Dude, are you kidding?" I looked away, and she sighed. "Eden. I wouldn't do that to you. However," she caught my attention speedily. "Chris has asked me to monitor you, ya know, tell him if anything goes wrong. The dude really cares for you."

Kenzie had this soft look in her eyes, one that my mum always had whenever she spoke to me. I found myself being comforted by Kenzie's words and by how she said them than the actual words. I allowed a small smile to form and Kenzie laughed, poking fun at my blush. "I know. But don't tell him about this nightmare. I'll speak to him myself, okay?" She nodded. Rigidly, I questioned, "did I say anything in my sleep?"

For the first time, I watched the bold Kenzie become uncomfortable. She scratched at her arms, becoming distracted. "You mentioned something about blood." My veins felt like ice and my tongue went paralysed. She noticed and forced a laugh. "But hey, periods can be fucking scary, right?" I cracked a smile. For her sake more than mine. She was downplaying what happened, and I didn't blame her. My nightmares weren't exactly pretty.

Suddenly, my phone began buzzing from its spot in my bag. For a second I was confused because I wasn't expecting any of my family members to call today. When I stretched over and clutched it, I saw the unknown number. "I'll be right back," I whispered to Kenzie, and she sent me a thumbs up.

With a last glimpse to the girls that were kicking a ball around on the field, I slipped into the locker rooms. "Hello," I spoke after answering the call, sagging against the wall.

"Good afternoon. I'm calling regarding the email you sent inquiring about the late tickets."

A light bulb went off in my head. "Ah, yes, yes. Thanks for getting back to me so quickly." I'd forgotten that I emailed the committee in charge of The Book Brain festival. A few days ago, I messaged Mum to ask if my tickets had arrived by mail yet.

When she said no, it disconcerted me. Before Christian and I left London, I secured our tickets, and we expected them to have arrived already. Since Mum verified there were no tickets in the mailbox, I chose to email them. There was no way I was going to miss out on this festival. It was the only thing I was looking forward to at the end of the training camp.

"Your email stated that you were yet to receive your tickets, is that correct?" I stammered a reply. "And how long ago did you order them?"

I pondered for a second. "Um, about three weeks ago." The lady on the other end of the line hummed before she began furiously typing.

"Okay, so there's been a few delayed deliveries," she vocalised after a while and I imagined her scrolling through a list. "But don't worry, it can be readily resolved. May I please have your name?" Her accent was delightful, and I contained a laugh. I'd gotten used to the Americans I was circled by, and I forgot how much I missed people who spoke like me.

"Denara Orlov," I answered, grateful that my tickets weren't lost or anything. That would just have made my day even worse. First, practice took place in the sweltering heat, and then Kenzie told me about my nightmares still being an occurrence after I thought it'd been getting better. No tickets would have just been the cherry on top. It took me a second to apprehend that the woman stopped typing and went silent. "Um, are you still there?"

A throat cleared before she chortled ineptly. "Of course. Sorry about that, but did you just say your name was Denara Orlov?" Trepidation slinked up my spine. This woman spoke as if she knew me.

Clumsily, I floundered over my words. "Yes, that's correct." I pleaded that the only reason she recognised my name was that I was a grand prize winner of sorts. A voucher for free books would do just fine.

This time, a genuine laugh came from the woman. "Lord, what a coincidence," she chuckled heartily, whereas I still stood with uncertainty manifest on my features. "Eden?" I froze at the use of my nickname. "It's me, Marlene Meyers."

The clock on the wall opposite me ticked like a time bomb. Any second, I was awaiting the room to blow up and for the ceiling to pulverise me. Any of that would've been better than what was actually happening. I felt like a sheep being taken to be slaughtered. Except, that sheep didn't know what was happening, but I did. Marlene Meyers.

Best-selling author of many crime novels. Of course, she'd be on the committee for the festival. People all over the world loved her. Especially those in her hometown of London. She started off as a news reporter for local tv which led to her discovering her penchant for unravelling mysteries. The woman reminded me of the Scooby-Doo gang. Wherever there was drama, crime or mystery - you could bet she'd be there.

"Hi," I choked out after apprehending I hadn't yet answered her. "It's been a long time since we last spoke-"

"Too long!" she cut me off and I could hear the enthusiasm in her voice. "How have you been, sweetheart? And your Papa, still yelling at people that he's Russian?"

I snickered at that. "Yes, he still is. And I'm doing alright. How are you? I saw you released another book."

"Oh, life has just been hectic. I had a whole fight with Amazon because they wouldn't allow me to release my book in Canada, but it's all sorted now. Gosh, I still can't believe I'm talking to you." I reciprocated the feeling. As nice of a person as she was, I could've gone without speaking to her for a while longer. I wondered if this was another sign. "I'm giving a speech at the festival and I'm also lending a hand. I didn't think you'd be attending though."

"Yeah, but I've been wanting to for a while," I told her, finding myself calming down. I'd forgotten about the motherly vibes Marlene always gave off. "I guess now's the time. You say you're giving a speech?"

Marlene groaned. "Yes, people have been bugging me about writing a sequel to The Man In The Library." Whenever I heard about her books, I couldn't help but get uncomfortable. She wrote about horrible crimes and personally, I thought she could very well work up to be like Stephen King. However, her first book would always remain the scariest to me.

"Why don't you write a sequel?" I proposed innocently.

She chuckled. "You know why, sweetheart. There's no story to tell. The book ended."

"It was an open ending though," I spoke up. If there was one thing that pestered me, it was open endings so I could see why her readers would be upset. I'd want a book to have a definite ending.

Marlene gasped. "You read the final draft?"

A small smile tugged at my lips. "Of course I did, Marlene. I bought it a while back." A few weeks ago, to be exact, just before Christian arrived in London.

"You really are the sweetest," she cooed, and I giggled, my mood becoming brighter. I guess her sudden appearance in my life again wasn't too bad. I was being paranoid, again. "But what the readers really want to know is what happened to Penelope at the end of the book. I might have to write an epilogue and then publish alternative versions that include it."

And there it was, my reason for being paranoid. Instinctively, my hand went to the necklace I wore. The daisy that hung from it provided me with some comfort. "Then why don't you just tell them what was in your original draft? You planned to kill her off, didn't you?" Memories of Marlene and I sitting in her study and discussing her first book hit me.

"As a lover of books, you know characters are their own people. Being a writer is like having your imaginary friends whispering in your ear, and right now, Penelope is telling me she's not dead. So I don't really think her story is over. But, we'll see," Marlene spoke in a cheerful voice. "Look at me getting carried away. Anyway, your tickets will be sorted out. And don't worry about payment, we're family. You'll get your money back."

I grinned to myself despite the sudden heaviness in my chest. "Thanks, Mars."

"And about the festival," she began dubiously. "I'm sure my readers are sick of me talking about it already, so I'm positive they'd enjoy an unfamiliar voice. They asked me to talk about it, and I'm hoping you'd join me." I stifled a gasp. "You're one of the few people who helped nurture this book in its early stages. I know how uncomfortable you get around many people, so I'd understand if you refused."

At that moment, my team wandered into the shower rooms. Ashley and Harper barely glanced my way, but everyone else sent me grins. The twins and fullbacks on the team, Ximena and Gabriella, flicked their towels at me. Kenzie winked at me before hopping into the shower. Jisoo slapped my arse and then laughed as I reddened. That might have been the reason I responded to Marlene with my next words.

"You'd be surprised how comfortable I've gotten around other people." Marlene squealed at my acceptance. "So I'd love to talk about your book, Mars."

I was gradually feeling like my old self again. I no longer felt like a foreigner in my body. Christian was right, I needed to grab life by the horns. Life didn't halt just because I was frightened to move forward. It moved on and I didn't want to be left behind. I bid Marlene goodbye before travelling towards my friends with a grin.