Chapter 1: On hotels and high-pitched voices

*Two years earlier*

I took a deep breath and tried to ease the nerves in my stomach. Come on, Jemima. You can do this. Or at least that's what I tried to tell myself.

As I finished applying yet another coat of lip gloss (I love the shininess a little too much), I stepped back and took a look at myself in the mirror. I was wearing a plain black t-shirt (my usual go-to colour), a black cardigan and jeans. It all fitted me well and I'd actually made an effort for once to make my lifeless blonde hair look presentable. I'd even made an effort with my makeup, and it paid off. It might sound a little vain, but, hey, I can look good when I try.

To be honest, it had been a long time since I'd last bothered. I used to be one of those people that would spend hours in front of the mirror, making sure I looked perfect for school. Weird how long ago that felt. I was so different back then. Now I didn't give a damn about makeup or looks or any of the crap I'd viewed as really important then. I'd stopped caring when I realised how much more important the inside is than the outside. Although I'll be honest, I can't say I'm very good at the whole 'inner beauty' thing.

But today I cared. Today first impressions mattered. Today it was a new town, a new start, and no one knew who I was. And more importantly, no one knew what I'd done.

That thought brought up the guilt that always came with it. I knew deep down that they should know what I'd done. They should know who I was.

Don't get me wrong, part of me knew I should move on. It had been three years after all, and part of me really believed that I couldn't live the rest of my life feeling guilty for something I hadn't even meant to do. But then the other part of me felt like that view that was so wrong, like how could I even think about moving on? It's not exactly like he could move on, so maybe neither should I. It's not like you have the right to just damage someone permanently and then move on with your life like nothing ever happened.

I'd give anything to take it all back. I wish so much that I could just change everything and redo it all so differently. But it's not like you just get a second chance. Life has no do-overs.

But today was a fresh start. Today was different. Maybe I couldn't take it back, but maybe I could do something.

I took a look around the small hotel room I'd stayed in the night before. As I'd walked into this town it was the first place I'd seen. The room was incredibly basic and kind of run down, and everything was covered in a thin layer of dust. All the room had in it was a small bed with a bedside table and an attached room with a small toilet and shower, which I found out that morning only ran cold water. But, hey, nothing like a cold shower to wake you up. Hot water's so over-rated. Who doesn't love pretending they still live in the 19th century?

And on the good side, the room was fairly cheap, though probably not worth the amount I was paying, and to be honest I'd been so tired when I arrived the night before that I'd collapsed on the bed and fallen straight to sleep anyway.

I checked my watch, which was a gold one I'd had for years. I can still remember my mum giving it to me on my 15th birthday. It was like the last thing I'd wanted because I was desperate for a new phone, and when I think of my reaction now it makes me cringe.

"What the hell is this?" I'd said as I opened the packaging. I'd actually been angry. It had just looked so plain and boring and I never wore a watch. It's not like I'd even need it if she'd bought me a phone. "I said I wanted a phone!"

My mum had just looked so sad. "Honey," was all she'd said. She'd been so happy to give me the gift and now she just sounded so deflated.

Like the lovely 15 year old I was, I'd said, "Don't even bother! You never listen to me," as I stormed out the room. I'd thrown the watch in a bedside drawer and hadn't even looked at it until I'd been sorting my stuff out to leave home. My mum had come into the room later that day to talk to me about it, try and explain why she'd got me a watch, and I'd just ignored her.

Man, I was so ungrateful then. Looking at the watch now, it must have been expensive and I just didn't appreciate it. I didn't appreciate anything back then. Again, I just wished so much that I could go back to who I was back then and just change everything. I'd do it all differently if I could.

Anyway, I couldn't, and as I stopped daydreaming about the ungrateful cow I'd been then and actually took in what the watch was saying, I realised it was time to check out. I took one last look around the room to make sure I had everything, although I hadn't unpacked anything much and it's not like I even had much with me to begin with. I picked up my simple rucksack and walked out the room and through to reception. Time to face the new town.

I shot a smile towards the plump middle-aged lady sitting behind reception. She looked kind of like the hotel: okay, but in need of some work. She had grey hair dyed brown which really needed redoing and she was wearing a blue dress which would have been in fashion about 20 years ago, which is probably about when it fit her, seeing as it was now a fair few sizes too small.

"Hi! Can I help you?" the receptionist asked with a big smile. Man, did her teeth need some work. Not to mention the fact that her voice was squeaky and quite annoying.

"Hi! I need to check out please." As I spoke I noticed how soft my voice had gone. For some reason, whenever I met someone new, my voice was always so much softer than it was when I'd been speaking to someone for a while. It's like I wanted them to view me as sweet or something. I guess to make a good first impression. Not that impressing strangers is something I care too much about anymore.

"Sure thing! What's your name?" she asked in that high-pitched voice. Maybe she should soften her voice when she was meeting someone new.

"May Jacobs," I replied.

By the way, my actual name is Jemima May Ainsworth. No one's ever called me May and Jacobs is my mother's maiden name, but after what happened at the last town I tried settling into, I realised I didn't want to be called Jemima Ainsworth anymore. For one thing, people can find you way too easily. You never know when someone knows someone you know and the last thing I wanted was a repeat of the last town.

Also, I really wanted to be a different person. I mean, I know the whole 'a rose by any other name' stuff we learned about at school, so I guess a name doesn't really make a difference, and I did feel like a completely different person, but I figured maybe it would help with the whole fresh start thing. So from now on it was official. Jemima Ainsworth no longer existed.

I paid the receptionist the overcharged rate she requested for my stay in this delightful hotel.

"Have a lovely day!" Man, that voice felt likeit would give me a headache within about 10 minutes. And she looked like she was about to start asking me questions, none of which I felt like answering, so I smiled and left the hotel.