Her mental health issues had reverberations through the whole case, really. When she first went missing, I think the authorities just assumed she was having an “episode” or something, but as well, it really put a glass ceiling on how invested the press ever got. She was damaged goods—too working class, probably too old to fit the missing blond girl archetype （at 19!）
I know that sounds cynical, but when you look at stories like this that have blown up in our lifetime, you get the sense that people prefer their missing girls to be virgins, which is some sad shit. （And yes, before you say it, I know that means no one would come looking for me. XXXX XXXXX XXXXX XXXXX XXXXXX XXX）。
The next chapter is Zoe’s actual disappearance, so let me know what you think. I’ve taken your advice and unplugged the phone for the night—so if you were gonna call me you’re OFF THE HOOK.
Ex
9.
“Nowhere Girl”
On their last night in Manchester before the Christmas break, the occupants of the tower’s fifteenth floor throw a party doomed to live in infamy. But the release of an illicit tape and a building-wide evacuation are only the start of their problems.
ANDREW FLOWERS:
Not my finest hour.
JAI MAHMOOD:
One of the worst nights of my life, man, and given how my life’s actually gone since, that’s saying something.
LIU WAI:
I don’t know whose idea the party was, but not stopping it’s obviously one of the greatest regrets of my life. I’m sure everyone feels roughly the same, though. Imagine the average stupid student night, just covered in cheap tinsel. Everyone far too lubricated, the music far too loud. The girls all dressed beautifully and the boys wearing their best Family Guy T-shirts.
KIMBERLY NOLAN:
Well, there were six other apartments on fifteenth, and the idea was that all the doors would be open between them so the party could spread across the whole floor. I can’t say it was what I would have chosen to do on our last night, but there was no escape. Christmas songs and girls dressed as slutty elves. Shit music, shit people, a series of shit events, and the last night I saw my sister.
FINTAN MURPHY:
I suppose in that case, I must be one of the “shit people” she’s describing. It was the first time I met most of them, not quite the best circumstances. I think, given the way that Zoe and I interacted, discussing what might seem like quite juvenile concepts of nervousness and not fitting in, she was a bit embarrassed to have me around her standoffish boyfriend and hard-drinking sister. She knew I didn’t drink at all, of course, so when she brought me up there, I could see she was hesitant. I remember saying, “Hey, I’m not my family, you’re not your friends.”
We got separated almost immediately, which is when I met Kimberly. I could just about see the resemblance to Zoe through all her black clothes and makeup, but she seemed in so many senses her opposite. She struck me at the time as kind of out of control, and I can’t say as I liked her image. I’ve spent much more time around the gay community now—I understand burlesque, glam, punk and leather these days—but I think back then, I could be quite judgmental. At the time, I just thought, why would you do this to your appearance when you started out looking like Zoe? It was like drawing a moustache on the Mona Lisa.
KIMBERLY NOLAN:
I never really hit it off with Fintan. I think he came over to me talking about Zoe. What an amazing voice she had, her incredible stage presence. I thought he was weird, all wiry and pale. And I was hurt that Zoe hadn’t introduced us. It was like when we were kids again. She clearly had this whole other life I didn’t even know about. And I could sense this veiled criticism in what he was saying. He was making it clear that he loved all these things that I wasn’t, and that he disapproved of the way I looked. I mean, he was probably drunk—I could smell the booze pouring off him.
FINTAN MURPHY:
I think Kim might be misremembering one crucial detail about the way that I was looking at her, and about the way I smelled. She’d just poured more or less an entire glass of wine all over me. She was turning around and I’m not sure she even noticed. I was trying to talk to her, but the music was so loud, and she was so, so wasted.
ANDREW FLOWERS:
I had to keep putting Jai out that night, as in extinguishing him. He was so out of it he kept putting lit cigarettes in his pockets. Everyone was throwing their coats into a pile on the landing and when his went down I saw it smoldering.
JAI MAHMOOD:
Well, never let it be said that Andrew Flowers isn’t a world-class prick, but I was as much to blame for the bust-up as him. I was swallowing Oxys like they were spit, man. I’d climbed the ladder from Xans, which are just benzos, to opiates quite quickly, so sometimes he’d be talking to me while I was almost basically in orbit. When we got to the party, there was some argument—I’d left a joint lit in my jacket or something. Yeah, I was a mess, I agree, but there was more to it than that. He was spoiling for a fight.
ANDREW FLOWERS:
Look, we fell out. We both said things we shouldn’t have. We were kids and we were drunk. Jai had God knows what in his system. In any other circumstances, we would have made up the following day and never thought of it again. We were just never afforded that chance—none of us got to return to our real lives or even to progress as people afterward. Call me a cunt, a racist, a sexist, whatever, but don’t print that I didn’t care about my friend, because I did. And I say that in spite of how I might have acted. I say it in spite of whatever he’ll say back about me.
JAI MAHMOOD:
Suddenly, we’re in this fight about his fucking watch again. Andrew saw me taking a pill. I guess he remembered I was supposed to be broke and started doing the math. It kicked off with him saying something like, “If you’ve got it, I won’t mind,” then rose up into him asking if I’d sold it, then shouting, “Fucking give it to me!” Next thing I know, he’s got me by the throat up against a wall.
ANDREW FLOWERS:
He denied having it, so I said, “Let’s see what you’ve got on you, then?” Obviously, I regret that now. I let go of him and saw I’d ripped his collar. That should have been it right there, the warning sign that I’d lost all perspective, but of course I’d committed myself by then, so I pressed on. If I could have talked to him, I could have just told him I’d watched my mother destroy herself with drugs…