The door flung open, making Ruby jump up in shock, automatically gripping the shotgun, scared. Raised against her shoulder the way she had seen her father use it, the gun seemed to grow suddenly much heavier. One finger was on the trigger, the other steadied the barrel, which was wavering.

Her mum’s eyes looked like they were about to bug out of her head in shock. Hands up in surrender.

‘Ruby, what on earth…? Put that down right now.’

That familiar, imperious tone. Ruby had had enough of being ordered around.

‘Shut up, and sit down. From now on, I’m in control. I mean it; it’s loaded.’

Her mum blinked rapidly several times. The sight made Ruby feel stronger.

‘Okay.’ Her mum spoke slowly, and moved even slower. ‘Shall I sit on the bed?’

Ruby nodded. Adrenaline had well and truly kicked in. She had the shakes; the length of the shotgun bouncing around. It was so bloody heavy.

‘You’re in control, Ruby. But I’d really like you to tell me what’s brought all this on.’

She snorted her reply. Hilarious. ‘You really are as utterly clueless as I suspected. You’ve no idea, have you? Here, read this, maybe it will give you a clue.’

With nothing to hide any more, Ruby shoved her diary at her mum, whose eyes ran over the black lettering.

‘The “Book of Hate”?’

Ruby thought she could hear amusement in her tone. With some effort, she managed to balance the shotgun one-handed against her shoulder, leaning back slightly to hold it steady, while with the other she thumbed through to the entry she wanted.

‘Careful,’ her mum begged, but Ruby continued anyway.

‘There.’ She pointed at the underlined words screaming from the page.

‘Today’s the day. I’m going to kill them all. I hate them. I hate them. I hate them.’

Dominique’s hand trembled as she held it over her mouth, as if trying to force back a scream.

Not so funny now, is it, Mother?

‘Why?’ The question was little more than an exhalation.

‘Because my life is a living hell, and you haven’t even noticed. This,’ she tapped her finger on the page, sending the barrel of the shotgun jerking around again, ‘is what I’ve been pushed to. I can’t take any more.’

Her mother’s eyebrows drew together sharply. Confused. ‘Because of Harry?’

‘No. For fuck’s sake, keep up, Mum. Harry is the only decent thing in my life. He saved me.’

‘Saved you? What…? I don’t understand.’

‘Saved me from this.’ Ruby pushed the shoebox of printouts towards her mother with her foot.

Dominique lay the ‘Book of Hate’ down on the bedside cabinet again, open at the page she had been reading, then bent down. Ruby watched her leafing through bits of paper. Lingering at first. Then faster, faster, faster, shuffling them in disbelief, eyes growing wide.

Finally, she looked up. Ruby recoiled. Tears made a mirror of her mother’s eyes, reflecting Ruby’s own pain. Her mum cared? She hadn’t expected that. Hadn’t expected her mum’s agony to open her own soul’s wounds again, weakening her as her hurt bled out.

Ruby wouldn’t allow herself to be taken in, though. Her mum was surely pretending, to save her skin. Wasn’t she? Anger began to slide away, replaced by equally familiar companions: confusion, hurt and hopelessness.

Dom shook a handful of papers at her.

‘I didn’t know. I’m so sorry… How long? How long have you been dealing with this?’

She didn’t wait for an answer, delved into the shoebox, searching for a date. She missed Ruby’s shrug. Didn’t notice her daughter sinking to the ground to sit cross-legged, the rifle still standing to attention against her shoulder. It was starting to sag, though. A wave of exhaustion washed over Ruby.

‘It started years ago.’

‘When you went to boarding school? You changed then…’

‘No one would have anything to do with me. I thought it would stop if I moved schools. But then Harry and me were beaten up and one of the people filmed it – a girl from my old school, called Poppy.’

Dom’s eyes narrowed. ‘I remember Poppy.’

Ruby’s laugh was short and wry. ‘Yes, she’s the sort of girl everyone remembers. Little Miss Popular.’

‘Hang on, why did she beat you up? And when? I’d have noticed if you were wandering around with a fat lip.’

‘You didn’t. Most of my bruises were on my body; I wore long sleeves. A bruise on my cheek was hidden under make-up.’

A hand flew up. ‘Wait – that’s why you and Harry started wearing all that gothic stuff? Eyeliner and,’ the hand waved, as her mother tried to think of a phrase, ‘and everything.’

It must have been the only polite word she could think of. Ruby knew how her mother and father felt about her make-up. They had never bothered talking to her about it, though, just nagged and shouted.

‘That’s right; I didn’t want anyone to see the bruises. It was something to hide behind.’

There was no point in trying to disguise the truth any more. Not now, when Ruby was so committed to death. And she was, she reminded herself. There was too much at stake for her to change her mind and choose cowardice. Let her mum know everything. It made no difference.

Mum gazed at her. ‘I thought it was Harry leading you astray with the music and the weird make-up. I’m so sorry.’

There was that word again. Ruby’s anger sparked and sputtered.

‘You’re only sorry now it’s too late; now I have a gun.’

Her mum didn’t even glance at the shotgun, continued to hold her daughter’s eyes. Ruby looked away first.

‘Why did you keep all of this? Was it to show me and your father? To give to the police?’

Ruby sighed, a huge sigh that shook her whole body. The shotgun’s barrel sank to the carpet.

‘At first, it was evidence compiled against everyone. I thought if I got enough to prove who was behind the comments, texts, calls, then I could show you and Dad, and it would stop. They’d be punished… But as time passed… well, it became evidence of something else.’ She shook her head, trying to see through the tears. ‘It’s absolute proof that I’m a hateful, awful person. I must be, because everyone thinks it.’

‘Love—’

‘No, Mum; the constant insults from everyone would only happen if they were true. Every time someone new meets me, I let myself hope, but every time, they end up agreeing with the bullies. The printouts, they’re to help me work out why I’m so awful. But I can’t figure out what’s wrong with me, Mum. I’m broken and I – I can’t be fixed. I’ve tried, but I can’t do it.’

Ruby caught a movement. Jerked away as her mum tried to come towards her, arms open for a hug. She couldn’t deal with that. With someone’s fake sympathy.

Mum got the hint, settling back onto the bed but leaning forward as if trying to close the physical distance between them. That wouldn’t change the emotional gap, though.

‘Is it that Poppy girl? We can go to the police; they can find the proof to prosecute her.’

‘No, Mum. It’s everyone. Everyone hates me. What’s the point of prosecuting Poppy or anyone else when they are always replaced by someone else who hates me just as much? For a few wonderful weeks, when I changed school, I was happy. Then people at my new school saw Poppy’s video; she didn’t need to do anything else. Someone else took over – a girl called Jayne is the worst. She made sure everyone at school saw the video. Now, she sends me texts and even set up a vile website about me. She doesn’t use her proper phone, she uses a different one when she sends me texts. They’re constant. I can’t sleep because they’re all night—’

‘Jayne’s the one you hit? Well, turn your phone off. Come off social media.’

‘You don’t understand.’ Ruby’s head and heart pounded. The shotgun snapped up with her temper. Hard and unforgiving, like she should be. ‘I knew you wouldn’t get it. Ignoring the messages doesn’t make them go away, Mum. Ignoring it just means everyone is still slagging me off, but I have no idea what they’re saying. It doesn’t change the truth. I’m a freak – why deny it?’

‘And so you… you want to kill us all? Really, Ruby? I know you don’t mean that.’

‘Keep reading the “Book of Hate”, Mum. Read the last thing I wrote.’