The Role Model: A shocking psychological thriller with several twists Daniel Hurst (moboreader txt) 📖

I haven’t seen it, but that’s not why I fail to answer her straight away. My hesitancy is down to the fact that while my daughter appears to be doing rather well considering what she went through this weekend, I am conscious that she could just be faking it. She may be in denial about what happened, or she could be in a state of shock, and the enormity of the events haven’t truly hit her yet. Either way, I need to find out because if she is bottling up her real emotions, that is not healthy, and it’s also not the best way of keeping what we did a secret.

Anything bottled up will eventually erupt out and cause way more damage than if it was just released at an earlier date.

‘Are you okay?’ I ask, stepping further into the bedroom as Chloe continues to hunt around for her missing textbook.

‘I’m fine,’ she replies with a cheery lilt to her voice, but that only makes me worry even more. It’s not that I was hoping to come in here and find her curled up in a ball on the bedroom floor crying her eyes out, but there should be a little more acknowledgement of the tragic events she experienced showing in her mood. Instead, she is treating this like it is just another day, which we are supposed to do, but only in the company of strangers. When we are alone, we are free to be ourselves, and that should mean we are both able to talk about what we are really going through right now.

‘Chloe, just stop a second,’ I say, reaching out for her arm and trying to get her to stop rushing around her bedroom for a moment.

‘I’ve got to go. I’m getting a coffee with Zara on the way.’

Her quick movement past me means my hand only brushes her arm, and I fail to get her to slow down and talk properly to me.

‘Found it!’ she cries, and I watch her pull a chunky textbook out from under her bed before stuffing it into her bag and heading for the door. But I can’t let her leave like this. I need to find out how much of a front she is putting on, and whether it is all going to come crumbling down the second she leaves this house and goes out into the real world.

‘Chloe, we need to talk,’ I say, stepping across her and blocking the doorway so that she can’t just rush out and leave me here.

‘Mum, I don’t have time,’ she tries, but I refuse to budge, and she has no choice but to slow down.

‘Please, just one minute. I need to make sure you’re okay.’

Chloe’s fairly happy facial expression falters a little, and she finally stops trying to get past me and accepts that she is going to have to give me a little more than just a breezy good morning and goodbye.

‘I’m fine,’ she says, though she doesn’t make eye contact as she says it.

‘It’s okay not to be,’ I remind her. ‘It would be weirder if it didn’t affect you.’

‘Okay, it’s affected me. I didn’t sleep all night again, and I’ve had to put eye drops in to cover my bloodshot eyes from all the crying I did. Is that what you want to hear?’

My heart breaks for my poor daughter standing in front of me. A couple of days ago, she was a happy, confident young woman, yet now she has just admitted to being up all night, anxious and upset.

Basically, she has turned into me.

‘Come here,’ I say, pulling her in for a hug, and she doesn’t resist as I give her a tight squeeze. ‘It’s going to get better, I promise.’

‘How do you know that?’ she asks me, and I have to be careful with how I answer that.

‘It just will. Time will make things easier. But you must be honest with me about how you’re feeling. Don’t bottle it up here when it’s just me. You can tell me anything.’

I feel Chloe nodding her head as she rests on my shoulder, and I let her stay there for a moment longer because she is almost giving me as much energy to carry on as I am hopefully giving to her. When she finally steps back from me, I see that her eyes are watering again, and while it wasn’t my intention to make her cry, I am at least glad that she is acknowledging her emotions more.

‘Today is going to be so hard,’ she says to me, carefully wiping her eyes so as not to disturb any of her mascara. ‘People will notice that Rupert isn’t there and wonder where he is.’

‘Just try to focus on your work,’ I say, knowing full well that is easier said than done. ‘And maybe don’t spend too much time in the common room over these next few days. Get outside and get some fresh air in between your lessons.’

Chloe nods her head and seems to have got her tears back under control again.

‘What about you?’ she asks me, looking up with concern on her face. ‘How are you feeling?’

I’m touched that my daughter can still think of me during what is easily the most difficult time of her life, and I decide that honesty is the best policy again here.

‘I’m shattered,’ I admit, rubbing one of my weary eyes. ‘Didn’t sleep a wink either. Work’s going to be fun.’

I try to make that last part sound like a joke and smile, but Chloe doesn’t return it.

‘I really should get going,’ she says, checking the time on her phone.

‘Okay, but before you go, remember the story. People will be talking about the party but only join in if anybody asks you about it directly. You got sick and went home. Otherwise, say nothing and carry on as normal.’

Chloe nods her head as I step aside to let her leave.

‘And call me if you need to talk,’