livredebelle

[livredebelle]

Twenty-nine.

"EEEEEK!"

The first sound I heard when I met up with my accomplice was a shrill squeal like no other. I outwardly cringed, which didn't deter her a bit as she squeezed the life out of me with a hug as a greeting.

"Hey girl! Thanks for inviting me." Rue smiled widely, not knowing a thing. It made me almost feel guilty.

Almost.

"Hey," I greeted her back. The last time I'd seen her, I'd left her alone in front of a restaurant--drunk, confused, and probably a little bit angry. She deserved an explanation, sure, but she'd also been a little forceful when I'd said I didn't want to drink; kept pushing me to go with her for a second round of drinks. Even though she was so drunk that the tiniest spark from a lighter would probably light her breath on fire. And even though I kept telling her no. Her insistence I go with her everywhere, her sudden closeness to me... all of it was weird, but against my better judgment I ignored the red flags. I needed her help right now, and she owed me one.

I gave her a brief rundown of what was going down--not the whole truth, of course; I left out the parts about my psychotic, abusive stepfather and emotionally manipulative sister. I simply told her that I was having a fight with my family and had run away from home, and that I needed her to stay at the motel disguised as me while I snuck out.

"Wait, you're running away from here? But didn't you run away from home so you could be here?" Her look of puzzlement was almost adorable, but I had no time to entertain her right now.

"Yes, Rue, for reasons I can't quite explain right now. Look, I listened to your favor last time--do you think you could help me do this? Pretty please?"

"You really can't tell me?" Rue pouted. I mean, how does one say to a friend, 'Oh yeah, nothing much, it's just that I suspect my boyfriend went AWOL to murder my sister'?

Instead, I just smiled, trying to appear as apologetic as possible.

"Fine. But seriously, at least explain what was up with you last time. You just left without... Without..."

She trailed off as I started changing clothes in an attempt to be less noticeable in case Heath had anyone patrolling me or spying on me. Rue's eyes wandered around my body, and I started feeling uncomfortable with her gaze--and this would not be the first time.

"Um... without what?" I said, trying to do something to thwart the awkwardness.

"Oh, sorry. I got distracted by your thighs. Your luscious thighs!" she exclaimed, as if she thought that helped.

"Oh," I said, not knowing what else to say. I didn't mind if she swung that way; it was just... very evident that I was not, so her forwardness was really rubbing me off the wrong way. I wrung my hands. Also, this was totally the wrong time and place to talk about such trivial things. Rose's life could be on the line and yet...!

"Seriously girl, you have a gorgeous body. Never let anyone make you feel otherwise!" She plopped onto the bed, sighing happily. "Go take care of your business; I'll be waiting for you here."

"Hmm," was all I could say in response as I avoided looking into her eyes as naturally as possible. Secretly, I hoped that I wouldn't have to deal with her at all afterward, and have Heath take care of it instead.

That is, of course, assuming he forgives me for this.

***

I had no doubt where Rosalie would be at this time of day--her sanctuary, the dance studio. My mouth became dry as I ran the possibility of running into either her or Pete in my head. What would I say? No, should I act first--whether it be to run, or punch them in the face, damn it all?

I was dressed in all black and topped with a black baseball cap, walking briskly with my eyes glued to the floor. I had left my phone with Rue because I wasn't stupid; clearly, knowing him, he would have been tracking it since ages ago. It was the wiser choice, but that also meant I was without a way to communicate or connect with the world, and I had to somehow think of a clever way to reach and warn Rose before anyone else.

But why, though? What's the point of helping a jealous little cunt like her? my subconscious hissed. It was obviously not a pleasant task, but after having a dream like the one I'd had while I was knocked out, I figured salvaging my would-be guilt was probably the better idea... as opposed to not, especially because I had a lot of demons in the guilt category already.

Maybe a part of me was still punishing myself for that desertion years ago--that summer when I turned fifteen. I hadn't known how to break the news to her; besides, I knew Rose would never agree to leave. She would see it as the equivalent of a betrayal--abandoning Mother the same way Father had, when we promised her we would never do that to her. Ever.

Even though promises are just meant to be broken...

It took awhile before Rosalie came out from the studio--around thirty minutes of bumming stoges from unwilling middle-aged men. (I had to threaten most of them into sharing, as most of them tried hitting on me once the conversation started and I tricked them into thinking I was a minor.) She looked sweaty, pale, and tired; without a doubt she had been slaving away at practice. Her weak appearance was almost enough to make me feel sympathy for her.

Almost.

"Hey," I greeted her loudly, startling her so much that she jumped. Her eyes widened as recognition, then resentment, settled in them.

"Rina? What--"

"Don't bother asking me why I'm here. You know the answer to that already, don't you?"

Wait. This wasn't why I'd come here. I came to warn her that her life was in danger, so what was I saying?

Her face was grim, but she didn't budge. I had to admit, I was surprised by her resolve. It was so unlike her to be this stubborn, especially against me.

"There's nothing you can do to change my mind."

"Change your mind about what, exactly?"

"Please go back; I don't want to hurt you."

"A little too late for that, don'tcha think?"

She flinched. "There's nothing more for me to say. If you won't leave, then I will."

"I can't believe this. It's really true, then, what Mother always used to say. Blood truly is thicker than water."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"In the end, you chose to side with your father. Even if I was only your half-sister, I thought I meant more than that to you. Clearly, I was very wrong."

"Don't play victim here. You know I have no choice but to obey what Mother tells me to do!"

"That may be, but I also know the way you look at my boyfriend. It's clear to me that only I was the fool, this whole time regarding you as my top priority, just wanting to make you happy... And here you are, doing just fine without me, and in fact screwing me over..."

I shrugged somewhat dramatically, intentionally trying to make her feel bad at this point.

It was working; Rosalie looked like she was barely holding back her tears. See, she had never been as good at being vindictive like I was. For me, it came almost naturally--I am Mother's child, after all, whether I like it or not.

"I'm not like you, though. I don't revel in making others feel pain for no reason. But now that you've poked the bear, there's no stopping what I can do now." I took a step closer. "You really shouldn't have tried stealing what is mine. You shouldn't have crossed that line."

"Me? You're the one that's stepping out of line," she countered, her fists clenched tightly. "You... you don't even know anything. You act like you're so in control of your life, but that couldn't be the farthest thing from the truth."

"It's cute how you're trying to act tough. You were always a coward and it was so obvious when you would try to copy me, it wasn't even funny."

"Ha!" Rose shook her head. "It's pointless trying to get through to you. Never mind; there's no point trying to communicate with a wall. I really wish you hadn't come here today, though, and that's the truth."

I had another smart-ass comment ready to fire at her, but before I could formulate the words I felt a sharp pain on the right side of my neck, and the subsequent sensation of my entire body going numb.

What the fuck?

I struggled to keep my eyes open to no avail as Rosalie squatted in front of me and caressed my cheek.

"But then again, I knew you'd come--you've always been such a masochist, unable to keep away from what's bad for you, you whore."

[livredebelle]

Twenty-eight.

"WELL, I DIDN'T THINK IT'D BE OVER THAT QUICKLY," I huffed, as if that offered any explanation.

He slid in the seat right beside me, shooting me an incredulous look. "I caught you spying on me, and that's your best excuse?"

"What excuse? I'm not making one. I'm genuinely surprised here." I stuck out my tongue and puffed my cheeks, upset that he was right yet again.

"Cute." He reached over to pinch them, but I dodged him with my quick cat-like senses.

"Don't you dare." I paused. "So what did she say?" I could no longer hold back my curiosity. I leaned my head against his shoulder, trying my best not to pout or sound whiny.

"What do you think? She begged me to stay with her. Even if that meant leaving you."

I could feel his eyes on me--searching, seeking any sign that I would break. But I held fast. I was no longer naive enough to believe that my sister truly cared for me, even if it was still a tough pill to swallow.

"And you told her to go to hell, I presume?" I said as calmly as I could.

He smiled angelically. "I told her the mere idea of leaving you for anyone else was absurd because you're perfect, and there could be no one else in the world worthy to stand beside me."

I couldn't help but smile back. It was sweet of him to know my insecurities and do his best to protect them--in his own weird, twisted way.

"She won't be contacting us anymore. I had your number deleted from her phone, and from this point onward all communications will go to Melanie and/or Richard."

"What communications?"

"Well, we have to make our own demands, don't we? Especially with what we know now."

"And that would be...?"

His eyes hardened. "We were right. Your sister, your mother, Richard--they were all in on it. Melanie consorted with Pete to scare you into doing her bidding; they thought they could twist your arm if your sister was on the line."

I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. That bitch.

"But that doesn't make any sense--Mother and I already made a deal when I moved in."

Heath snorted. "Did you really think she would uphold her end of the bargain? When has she ever been honest with you?"

"There were times she was honest." A flashback of Mother yelling at me that she wish I'd been aborted came across my mind.

"When it matters?"

"No."

"Good. Then you'll agree that after we take care of Pete, it would be best to take care of them too."

I swallowed hard. It seemed like Heath was set on his plan, no matter how morally decrepit taking someone's life may be. The fucked up thing was, it wasn't out of my morality that I opposed his idea.

It was the thought that he may have always been like this, and not just doing it for me. Which would be more meaningful?

Obviously the latter. But did that mean I was okay with him killing people, so long as he was doing it specifically for me?

I'm going to hell when I die for sure.

"I can't deal with this right now," I said honestly, rubbing my temples. It had been one hell of a day, and I could use some smokes and a deep sleep. Which I knew I could look forward to, knowing Heath would be warm and cuddled up by my side. ... Hm?

My eyelids were drooping more than they should--I was instantaneously drowsy, and before my suspicion had the chance to flare, I was knocked out cold.

Before my consciousness completely faded, however, I heard his gentle whisper in my ear.

"I know, angel. Sleep tight--I promise I'll take care of it before you awake."

***

I had to be dreaming.

There was no other way to explain the scenery before my very eyes--me, my sister, and my parents all huddled around a campfire, acting all cozy and wholesome-like. Which was so unlike us.

"What are you doing, Melanie? You'll burn the marshmallows," a man with a blurred out face was saying. I knew in my gut that he was my father, but I legitimately could not remember what the man looked like in good conscience.

"Wait, what? I'm only following the instructions!"

"You don't need to Google instructions for how to make marshmallows. Christ!" I found myself saying. I gasped--my lips moved on their own.

"Language, Irina." My scary-looking father scolded me too. Ah, that's right--he was a super religious fellow, wasn't he?

"I wonder who she gets that from," Mother said coyly, barely hiding her smile. Now, that was a sight. I could honestly not remember the last time I saw her smiling so genuinely like that.

Someone's hand squeezed mine tight. Rose, of course. Was this my subconscious dealing with the weight of her recent betrayal? A part of me still found it hard to believe my little sister, who had always been so pure and weak, would be capable of such a thing.

What if Heath is wrong? After all, look at where you are now. He deliberately blocked you out from his plans--again.

I--I shook my head. No, I had simply fallen asleep because I was tired. And now I was having this shitty dream because I cannot live with the guilt of betraying my sister.

Is that really true?

Shut up. I didn't know to whom I was talking to, but I was already fed up with talking inwardly to myself. The ghosts of my family looked on at me, smiling peacefully as if they had all the time in the world for me to gather my thoughts, to get my shit together.

I squinted at my father's face in rage. How dare he intrude upon my mind like this! He had no right to occupy any space there. I tried to will him out of the picture, but was unsuccessful.

"It's the first time Father's had the time for us like this, isn't it wonderful?" Rose said, putting her head delicately on my shoulder. "I wish this moment would last forever and ever."

I smiled wistfully at the poor thing. "Don't you realize this is just a dream; it's not real? You were too young when he left us. There's no way a memory like this could exist."

"All the same, if you wish it hard enough..." She sighed. "If you had the power to make it come true... you'd take it, wouldn't you? Or is that just me?"

"I don't understand."

"You don't have to. But really, sis... is it worth having me erased from the picture? Solely to get what you want?" She sat up straight and stared into my deadpan eyes. "Your boyfriend is on his way right now to kill me, in the real world. Are you just going to lie idly by and wait for it to happen? Does my so-called 'betrayal' justify or warrant such an action?"

"What--"

"Only you can decide and change the direction of destiny. Think long and hard..."

Her hand reached out and gave me a light push, which sent me flying off of a cliff I had not known was there. My feet started flailing in the air of the anti-gravity void as I desperately attempted to grab hold of anything I could to stay--I had so many questions, and I hadn't solved the mystery of what Father had looked like...

"Farewell."

***

Rosalie's last words from the dream lingered heavily in my mind as I jolted awake.

What time was it? I could feel my heartbeat vibrating within my skull; the migraine I woke up with was a beast that could not be tamed. I needed coffee or water very badly to dispel it. But more importantly...

I glanced at the window outside, which told me it was evening. But how could I be sure it was even still the same day? Maybe I had been out for longer--after all, I had been drugged somehow. I gnashed my teeth in anger. How dare he do that to me! When had he even had the chance? I knew he was trying to protect me, but this was really too far off the mark, even for him...

Sighing, I got up from the motel bed and shrugged on a cardigan before grabbing my phone. I headed for the front door of the room and turned, but the knob wouldn't budge.

What the shit?

Of course, it wouldn't be that easy. Heath had accounted for the possibility that the drugs would wear off faster than he planned, so he somehow figured out a way to keep me locked in. I felt like a little bluebird trapped in her pretty, adorned gold cage.

I wasn't even surprised. Rather, I would have to focus all my energy into figuring out a way to out-maneuver him, to beat him. Wasn't there another way out that he couldn't have possibly thought of?

The fire escape.

The answer hit me like a bolt of lightning. I rushed to the window, where I saw a brittle pole leading to the fire escape. A potential getaway, but it would be dangerous, especially for clumsy ol' me.

And what of it? I was no longer afraid to look Death in the eye. I had to act if I wanted to change the results of my fate, and I had no time to hesitate because I feared getting physically hurt.

It was so frustrating. I knew the easier route would be to just stay in the motel room like Heath had intended, and wait for him to take care of everything. His methods may be twisted, but I wasn't sure I believed they were wrong, per se. If there was any sense of justice left in the world, maybe letting Heath get what he wanted was that justice, because I failed to see it anywhere else.

But at the same time, could I live with the guilt afterward? Would I be able to wrest myself free of the 'what ifs' that would torment me for the rest of my life?

And no matter how much I hated her at the moment, Rosalie was still family. She was my blood. The thought of me adhering to my family's ancient principle was sickening, but I must have believed in it after all, because I always cared more for my sister than I did for myself.

It was a hard dirty habit to kick--one I certainly wasn't prepared to kick now.

I didn't want to admit it, but to outsmart Heath, I probably needed another person's help. It had to be someone unexpected, someone who had nothing to do with this matter and someone who could thwart Heath's crafty counterattacks if the need should arise. My first pick was Maria, but to be honest I didn't think she had the time; she was an art prodigy, after all. Plus, she lived a town away, so my second pick would have to do.

As if she read my mind, my phone screen lit up with her caller ID--a person I didn't completely trust yet, but who had shown me she was capable of being trusted. Maybe, just maybe, I could take that chance with her.

"Hello?"

[livredebelle]

Twenty-seven.

I WAS STUNNED--I HAD NEVER IMAGINED he would get on his knees for me, let alone be physically capable of it at all. The man was all about his pride, I knew all too well. Too much between us was changing, too fast, all of a sudden. I started feeling uncomfortable.

"First off, you have to know that you mean everything to me. I care only for you. That means no matter what bullshit comes our way, promise me that if your feelings are true, you won't ever try to leave me."

"What?"

"I don't want us to start off on the wrong foot. You want me to be completely candid and honest--so here I am." He took my hands gingerly in his. "I'm saying your sister has no hold on me whatsoever. So let us drop that issue between us, here and now."

I found that incredibly hard to believe--all my life, people in my family had preferred Rosalie over me. She was prettier, kinder, softer--everything a proper lady should be. Me? I was the degenerate daughter who they were ashamed of, someone who had let down their hopes from the very beginning.

What was I so afraid of? Heath was confessing his love to me, and promising me that he had no feelings for her. If I loved him too, I should believe him. Shouldn't I?

'You can never trust what men say. They may promise you the world, but what they really mean is you'll only ever be a fraction of the world to him.'

Mother's education had encompassed many topics, her favorite of them all being relationships and men. Because of her own failures in her love life, she felt the need to impart her 'wisdom' to her daughters, mostly me because I was the eldest and therefore carried the higher burden of expectations.

Maybe I had subconsciously pushed away dating potentials all my life because of that. At least in part. I figured from the very beginning, I shouldn't get into relationships if it only meant getting burned. I was too prideful for that; I didn't want to feel inferior to anybody, nor give anyone the right to make me feel that way.

More so than I already felt.

So I hesitated. And Heath noticed.

"I'm different, and you know it deep in your heart. I'm not the kind of foolish lad to believe in silly things like fate. But the way our paths are intertwined--I would say at this point, it would almost be silly not to believe in it, with you before my eyes."

God, he had such a way with words. It almost made me want to cave, but I held my tongue to his evident dismay.

"What more can I do to prove my loyalty to you?" he asked with a twinge of pain in his voice. I flinched. Hurting him had not been my intent, but I also had no intention of apologizing for it, because I was prioritizing myself over him.

"I don't think there's anything you can do," I confessed. "I just... need more time to process things between us. But... I'll do my best." I paused, then blurted, "So what did Rosalie's text say?" I wanted to change the subject to a less serious one, true, but he hadn't answered that part of the question yet.

"She wants to meet," Heath said carefully, probably not wanting to antagonize me. He knew my sister was a sensitive subject, especially right now. When had the axis on my world become so tilted? "For what reason, I can guess: she knows that I met with Pete. And she's probably going to ask about it--which will confirm whether she's helping her father or not--while also trying to act weak in front of me so I feel sorry for her." The steel coldness in his eyes told me her plan would not work, which made me feel relieved.

"Where?"

"Does it matter? I'm not meeting her," he said, one of his eyebrows rising. "I'm not leaving you alone when things are so risky as it is."

"What does Pete want with me, do you think...?"

That was the real question, wasn't it? I was confused as to what he'd want to see me for--we hadn't spoken in years; besides that, we had never had a good relationship for the brief moment in history we'd been acquainted under the title of 'family.' I could understand him wanting to meet with Rose, but...

Seeing Heath's expression harden made me realize instantly that no matter what the reason, it was definitely sinister.

But why? I hadn't done anything to him! I wanted to scream it, but would it change anything? No. So what was the point of throwing a tantrum like a child? I bit my lip in frustration.

"Don't worry. I'll take care of it," Heath promised, squeezing my hands tighter in his. "You are not alone in this."

My heart warmed at his words. How desperately I wanted to believe him wholeheartedly. But there was always that 1% that would doubt. It was simply in my nature.

"Maybe I should meet him after all," I suggested after thinking for a bit. "You know, use me as bait and set up a trap."

"Hell no. Do you seriously think I'd consider that option for even a moment?" His tone dripped with disapproval. "I'm perfectly capable of cleaning up someone like him."

"Wait, what do you mean, 'clean up'? Don't tell me you--"

"What, surely you can't seriously expect me to let him live?" Heath's baby blue eyes twinkled with malice. "He is a risk otherwise. He'll keep coming back, and we'll forever be running away or hiding in the shadows. Why in the nine hells would I allow that?"

"But... but that would be--" I stammered.

"Murder?" It was like he was really saying, "So?" He couldn't be serious.

"You're talking about killing somebody. It's a crime!"

"What solution would you suggest, then?"

"I don't know... but... There must be something else. I don't want to think of that as our first option."

"You wouldn't have to be involved in anything; I'll take care of it all."

"You've already implicated me by telling me! How could I let you go on when I know...?"

He was really going to drive me crazy. I mean, it made sense. I had always known that Heath Ashford was a crazy, fucked up guy. I had fallen in love with him regardless, and now I was going to have to pay the price.

How to make him see reason?

"I would do anything to protect you, Rina," he said solemnly. "It doesn't matter who or what they are. I'll make sure it can't be traced back to us. Just... don't ask me to change myself for the sake of someone as grotesque as Pete. Don't I mean more to you?"

"..."

"Trust me on this. This problem won't go away until and unless I nip it in the bud. It would also send a message to the real mastermind behind the plan, whoever that is--"

That thought made me feel ill. The mastermind contenders were either my mother, or my sister. Maybe, just maybe, Richard too--but he was less likely. It didn't matter; they were all from the same circle--my family. What a sick joke. I closed my eyes, almost willing myself to be okay with the fact, and then to just completely forget it had ever happened. I wanted to reset everything in my life--go back to a better time. But when would that be? My childhood? I had no memory of ever being really happy. My life was an empty shell; it was so plain and unremarkable that I wanted to scream. Had I been born as anybody else, maybe my life would have meant more.

"Okay, fine, whatever--I don't want to talk about this anymore," I sighed, plopping backwards on the bed. "I want to rest."

"You should. In the meantime, I'll go meet your sister and scope her out. Report back to you soon." He leaned forward to leave me a kiss on the forehead, and I felt my cheeks flush in response. I was seriously going to have to get used to his affectionate side--my heart drummed excitedly in my chest.

As I heard him leave the room, I sat up abruptly. Maybe this was a chance to witness things for myself instead of merely leaving it up to someone else--not that it meant I didn't trust Heath, I assured myself quickly. But because I had to see it with my own eyes if it was true that my sister had been wearing a mask in front of me all our lives. The possibility made my hands sweat, and I almost decided against it, but I powered through. No more inactive Irina. No more complaining when things don't go my way. No, I was going to take action. I had nothing to lose, now that I had a partner in crime by my side.

Maybe almost too literally.

***

I had followed behind Heath carefully, instructing the taxi driver to trail his Audi as inconspicuously as possible. Thankfully, the driver didn't ask any questions, so long as I paid the cab fare. His Audi had parked in the lot in front of a small mom-and-pop cafe near the university; it was obvious Heath had picked the place, not wanting to alert Rose to the location of my whereabouts. The sincerity reflected in his actions made me hopeful that maybe, just maybe, Mother had been wrong. Maybe she was just shitty at finding love, and I shouldn't take her words too seriously.

But again, old habits die hard.

I had a dilemma: how was I going to trail him further than this? It wasn't like I was wearing a disguise or anything; if I entered the cafe to eavesdrop, I would be found out immediately by the both of them. So I decided against that plan, deciding instead to stay put in the taxi and pay the meter while it was running. Again, the driver was happy to oblige so long as the fare was taken care of. I wished the window glass was tinted to allow myself better cover, but this would have to do; it was the best I was going to get.

Rosalie was inside and waiting already--she was clearly visible, as she was sitting on a table right next to the cafe window. As Heath entered the cafe, I could see her beaming. Like she was really in love with him. It was hard to see, but I forced myself to watch. I wanted to verify everything with my eyes, even if I couldn't hear what was being said.

He sat across from her, and she pushed the menu across the table to him, which he refused. When she insisted, he tossed the menu to the floor, and I nearly laughed. I loved his attitude towards her--if he kept this up, he was going to get rewarded well for it later. She smiled sadly, then he barked a question, or an accusation, at her. Her face crumpled, but she maintained her calm demeanor for the most part and her hands moved about as she explained her side of the story. Heath didn't look pleased, but I couldn't read anything but sternness from his body language. Then, Rosalie reached across the table and grasped his hand in hers.

I almost bolted out of the taxi, ran across the lot, and punched her in the face. The audacity of her to be doing this, when she clearly knew... Wait, did she? Had I ever confessed to her--or anybody for that matter--how I had felt? No. So then, this was my fault once again. I sank back in my seat, dejected. I should have been more honest; then it wouldn't have come back to bite me in the ass later like this.

He shrugged her off, and said something with a blank expression on his face. She flinched at his words and reclined in her seat as well, her doe eyes fixated on his face. It was painful to watch. Even with this weird conflict between us, I found it hard to suppress the feelings of wanting to protect my little sister--it was automatic at this point, embedded in my body as if second nature.

How pathetic this whole situation was. It was like I was the worst protagonist in the story, idly waiting to be rescued while not doing anything to better the situation herself. I had always despised fairy tales because I hated the weak portrayal of women in them; but perhaps all this time, I had been jealous of their ability to skirt responsibilities and get away with it, all because they were beautiful. And because they were princesses. Why should those automatically grant you a license to be a nuisance to others?

After a couple more exchanges, Heath stood, and I saw Rose burst into tears--it was clear she was begging him to stay, or begging him for... something. My breath caught in my throat. Even in my eyes, my crying sister was too beautiful to ignore. If I were a guy, or Heath even, I would find her difficult, if not impossible, to resist. This was the moment of truth. I held my breath, resolved to release it only when it was safe to do so.

But Heath left the table after all. I let out my breath, relief flooding over me. But that relief was so shortlived as I realized he was sauntering over confidently towards me. In the taxi. I cowered, trying my best to disappear or assimilate into the car seats. But no dice.

Knock, knock.

"Hello, love. Missed me already?"

[livredebelle]

Twenty-six.

THE MEMORIES SLOWLY RETURNED, FLOWING effortlessly and with an unstoppable force into my brain. Our argumentative nature since we were kids. His piercing baby blue eyes which captivated my interest even way back then. My sister and I, holding hands with a weird but kind man who introduced us into his home. His sulky wife, who thought our arrival was suspicious. The library tour. My temples started to ache, but I was somewhat relieved that the gaps in my memory film were recoverable. Sometimes, I couldn't remember my past no matter how hard I tried, and it made me afraid that I was living in denial, a fake life. It made me uneasy.

More importantly, I needed a smoke. Badly. I shoved a stoge in my mouth and lit up the poison as Heath's eyes wandered over me. I recognized that look.

Lust.

It made me both excited and afraid. To thwart the distraction, I did the best thing I could--initiate an argument with him.

I crossed my arms. "Why didn't you say anything about the fact that we knew each other? You acted like we were total strangers the first time we met. Isn't that lying?"

"Not really. I didn't want to overwhelm you when we first met, and I knew you wouldn't react well if I approached you too directly."

"Still, you had plenty of opportunities to be forthcoming. But you never said anything."

He sighed, clearly exasperated. "Look, I figured we had bigger fish to fry. Things have progressed quickly since we reunited--"

"Reunited?"

"Yes, because I've been looking for you all this time. You have no idea how long it took. More than a decade's worth of effort."

"Am I supposed to feel flattered? That's stalker-ish." I blew smoke in his face in disapproval. I was half-joking, but half-serious--the minuscule amount of trust I had placed in him recently dissipated ever so quickly. Now, I was always going to wonder what else he was hiding from me.

"You're lucky I didn't get us a smoke-free room. I considered it."

"Don't change the subject."

He slinked towards me, sitting next to me on the bed with a smirk. "I know you want me to."

Asshole. I rolled my eyes and did my best to thwart the seductive effect of his words. "I'm serious. How do you expect me to believe anything you say again?"

His eyebrows raised incredulously. "Well, for one, because I rescued you today. Again. Doesn't that prove I have good intentions and care about you?"

Oh right, that. "What are we going to do about Pete? Do I have no other option but to wait out here?"

"Just for tonight, until I find a more secure place for us. I doubt Pete is sophisticated enough to figure out our location, but it's still better to be careful. Obviously, we can't go back to the penthouse for the time being."

I sighed, vexed. What could my stepfather possibly want with me? If anything, wouldn't that time be better served trying to reconnect with his actual daughter? No matter what, I couldn't think of any non-sinister reason Pete would have for returning to our lives in such a manner, like a completely unanticipated tornado.

"Can I still go to school?"

"I'll admit it's ill-advised... But what else would you do? The university will not be so understanding of your circumstances... and it's not like we can afford to be completely honest, either."

That was true. And it didn't make sense for me to stop everything, to drastically alter my life just to avoid a maniac. Even if he was a well-fledged maniac.

"Don't worry, I have a few eyes on Pete as of last night. He won't get anywhere near you, I promise."

His arm was still snaked around me, I realized. His fingers were starting to stray up and down my spine, like he was playing a delicate melody on the piano, with each sensation giving me goosebumps. When some of his fingers strayed up my shirt, I smacked his arm.

"Pervert."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize." But his face said otherwise.

"That's what you're focused on right now, when we should be figuring out what to do in this fucking mess? Men." I tsk-ed.

"A complete accident, I assure you." But his nimble fingers didn't stop.

"What if we get caught?" I insisted, shoving him away.

His face crumpled with a puzzled expression. "By whom?"

"..."

I had been about to say 'Rose,' but that sounded a bit ridiculous even to me. Why should I care about how this would affect her? She had basically declared war when she told me she loved him--I could see it in her eyes; that she knew of my complicated feelings for Heath, and she had wanted to antagonize me about it. Who knew whether she was telling the truth anyway?

I was so tired of prioritizing other people's opinions and feelings over mine, the way I had a habit of denying myself happiness if that meant someone I loved could be happy instead. Where had that gotten me in life? Absolutely nowhere.

Instead of replying, I leaned in closer to his face to tantalize him.

He sucked in a deep breath, closed his eyes for a second; then when he reopened them, he gazed deeply into my eyes, unwavering resolve reflecting in them.

"Have you finally decided to trust me?" he whispered gently.

Not exactly. Maybe. I thought it, but I didn't say it--I didn't want to ruin the mood.

I bit my bottom lip intentionally to drive him insane. His eyes gleamed, wicked. I tilted my head in question, inviting him to be as daring as he wanted to be. He clenched his fist.

"Don't start anything you're going to regret, now." A soft warning hidden behind the meaning of those words.

Yet I nodded.

He dove in for the kiss, and I could tell how hungry he was. How long he'd restrained himself, I would probably never know--but God, all the pent-up sexual tension exploded at once, and I responded to his passion in kind.

"Mmnh--"

His lips mashed urgently against mine, and his fingers deftly unbuttoned my bra. I could feel my head spinning, stars flying out of my vision as he crushed my body so close to his that there was no space between us. This was it, I thought to myself in satisfaction as I caved to my desire. This is what I've been waiting for.

It made no sense, that we had known each other in childhood and I had completely forgotten about it. That suggested that my mind was so broken, it was incapable of resurrecting my memories correctly, and that was definitely concerning. But right now, I couldn't care less what that meant. I just wanted to give all of myself to this man, to my newfound companion, one who I hoped would last longer than the others.

Because he was mine. And he had always meant to have been mine, I could feel it.

His tongue lashed inside my mouth, hot and greedy to explore all the crevices within. I blushed, and he could feel the rising temperature of my body. The same way I could feel his.

It was folly. We were in no position to be enjoying ourselves like this, in the midst of such turmoil and distress. We needed to be smarter and more rational than this.

But who the hell cared when you were kissing Heath Ashford?

***

My body was so goddamn sore.

I took a good look at his face as he slept peacefully. After our rigorous 'workout,' we had both passed out--for God knows how long. It appeared I had awoken first. Even now, I couldn't help but admire his beauty; his unfairly long lashes, the curvy wisps of his hair falling over his forehead and perpetuating the image of perfect innocence... He looked like a cherub nestling in the embrace of someone he was comfortable with.

That someone was me. My lips curved into a smile at the realization.

It was so easy to forget all of the problems weighing on my shoulders when we were together like this. It was even easier to believe that we would be fine, just as he promised. Because there was no way he would make me an empty promise. So far, he had come through more than most people in my life... An oddly cheery thought.

Then the moment ended when my phone buzzed.

Annoyed, I checked it. Wait, not mine--so it must be Heath's. Where did he leave his phone? He was dead asleep, and there was no way I'd be able to wake him. So it was probably a good idea for me to go check myself. Just in case there was some important information he needed to know right away concerning our current situation.

Which is what I kept telling myself as I discreetly lifted Heath's finger to unlock his phone, which I had retrieved from his pants pocket on the floor.

Who knows what I expected to find in there, that Pandora's box. I guess I was just trying to assuage a part of me inside that still worried he was hiding something, that he was lying about something. It wasn't easy to let go of a lifelong habit, after all.

At the precise moment where I unlocked his phone screen and proceeded to browse through his notifications, I felt a cage ensnare my waist and yank me backwards into bed.

"Eep!"

"What in the hells do you think you're doing, sneaky?"

His tone was half-joking, half-serious. I couldn't see his facial expression due to the position we were in, but I could feel waves of mini-rage through his body. Body language?

"Wh-what? Your phone was buzzing so loudly, so I was just trying to make it stop. It woke me up."

Good thing he couldn't see my face either; if he could, he'd be able to tell immediately that I was lying.

"Hmm. I know that love tends to make an idiot out of you, but I'm not sure I should accept that pitiful excuse. Sure, this time I'll allow it." He nuzzled my neck and took in my scent. "It's hard to ruin my mood after that marathon we just ran."

"Shut up. What is it, a text message? Who's it from?"

"Minor work matter. Don't you worry your pretty head, and go back into bed with me, hmm? All you have to worry about is getting your rest."

His words were honey sweet, but I wasn't that naive. "Are you going out while I rest?"

"I do have other responsibilities."

"Such as?"

"..."

His hesitation was baffling. Why was it so difficult for him to tell me? It only added to my suspicions.

The truth was, in that brief moment when I had checked his phone's notifications pop-up, my eyes had quickly scanned the information, and I already knew the answer. I just wanted him to say it, so I could see if he would lie.

Inside, I was already fuming, barely containing my unjustified anger. The nerve of this girl, really. How ignorant I'd been all this time--I knew I was a poor judge of character, but to think how little I'd know about my own blood sister my whole life...

Well, half-blood.

"Tell me," I pressed. "Or else I'm not going to be able to sleep."

I steeled myself for the lie, almost positive that would be the outcome. If so, then I'd have a reason to walk away from this relationship right now.

Just give me that reason.

His arm-cage loosened from around me, and he got up from the bed to come and kneel in front of me.

And opened his mouth.

[livredebelle]

25.5: Death beckoning

I FOUND MYSELF IN AN EXTREMELY UNCOMFORTABLE SITUATION. Standing in front of the hospital room where my friend was staying with a bouquet of flowers in my hand, I wondered if I could form the right reassuring words that would need to be said to mend a person's broken spirit.

Last night, I had received a call from Maria with the terrible news that Abel had been in an accident. Without knowing further details, we had rushed to the hospital where he was reportedly getting surgery after having been run over by a car. The surgery had taken all night long, but it was a success, and he was now resting. When the surgeon had stepped out of the operating room to meet his family and friends who were waiting anxiously, he said with grim expression on his face, "I'm sorry. We did what we could to save his life, but..."

With a shaky breath, I bravely pushed the door open with a fake smile as I moved forward to approach my dear friend. 

"Hey. Happy birthday, Abel." 

Instead of responding, he was staring out the window, his body motionless and frozen as the anesthesia slowly wore away. His body was covered in bundles of bandages and casts, especially his legs. His mind was rattled and he was dazed because everything had changed and happened so quickly before he'd had time to react. What had the doctor said to his parents that he could hear their wailing out in the waiting area a couple hours ago? What could have been so painful to hear? 

"I know this is lame, bringing flowers for your birthday gift. I'm sorry, but I couldn't think of anything better, and then I ran out of time..." 

My voice trailed off as I struggled with the next thing to say. In front of me, I saw a soul that was suffering immensely. It was this inexplicable feeling I had, but I could practically hear the sound of Abel's heart breaking. 

How could I save him... 

I wished Maria were here with me, but it was understandable. Maria was too shocked and traumatized after what she'd heard what the doctor had to say post-surgery, and after everything that had happened. She had walked out of the waiting room in a trance-like state, much like Abel was in right this moment.

"What day of the week is it today?" he asked suddenly in a barely audible whisper. 

"Oh, um... it's Thursday." 

"I... have practice today... I need to tell Coach..." he trailed off. 

I said nothing, not having the heart to tell him the news. I bit her lip and clenched my fists. It just wasn't fair. Why did good people like him have to be punished? What wrong did he do that justified a punishment such as this? What could I even say to make it better? My thoughts were racing at the speed of light. 

The sound of drizzling rain could be heard from the outside, as neither of us spoke further, letting the silence wash over us like a deluge. 

***

It was spring all too sudden. Time waits for no one; in fact, it seems to always be in a hurry to move forward, even if one isn't ready to move on from one's pain. 

The three of us were hanging out on their school's rooftop eating lunch together as usual, except for the pin-drop silence. Things had been tense ever since the accident. Abel wasn't his usual cheery self; he had been like a zombie, always staring ahead at nothing, as if being in the present was too much for him to bear. In such a short amount of time, he had lost everything: his dreams, his ambitions, his scholarship to university, his ability to walk... He would never be able to swim again. That part of him was lost for good when that intoxicated driver had slammed his car into him and thereby crushed his legs, severing all their nerves. Every morning, Maria and I would come pick him up at his house, where his mom and brother lived with him, and we would wheel him to school and walk to school together as if it was any other day. But no matter how hard we tried to cheer him up, or just be there for him, Abel had shut himself out of our grasp, and he didn't respond to anything. He hardly talked for the past couple of months. 

"How's PT going?" I asked cheerfully, trying my best to fake a smile. "I heard from your mom that you're already showing so much improvement. I'm so proud of you, you know." 

Maria leaned her head against his wheelchair. "Are you going to the game tonight, by the way? Should I come pick you up?" 

Abel noticeably flinched, and anger flashed in his eyes. "No. You know I can't... anymore." 

"Chill. I meant we should watch the game together. It's the season playoffs, right? I'm sure your team would appreciate your support--"

"I said no! You... you don't understand anything. Both of you, stop trying to make it better. Because it isn't going to get better!"

We were startled. Abel never raised his voice, no matter how upset he was. He was just not that kind of person. He had changed so much since the accident, yet neither of us could say a word, because we were too afraid that the wrong step would cause our best friend to shatter; he was too fragile... Seeing the surprise in our eyes, he turned his face so they couldn't see, and started wheeling himself away. 

I frowned. The distance between us was widening. How had things become like this? I was determined to set things right. "Hold on," I said to Maria, "I'm going to go after him."

"And do what?" 

"Well, talk to him. This can't go on. He's wallowing in his depression and it's only going to get worse if he keeps shutting himself out." 

"We have no idea what is going through his head, or how he's really feeling right now," Maria said softly. "I think it'll be better to give him some space. He'll come back; I know he will." 

"Maria--"

"Please, just let him be. He'll get better." 

But Maria was wrong for what it seemed to be the first time. In fact, things kept getting worse; Abel's mood became darker with each passing day, and he hardly talked anymore, no matter who was talking to him. It was as if he genuinely couldn't hear them; his world had seemingly lost color and sound. Without swimming, he was no one. He was losing his sense of self, and no one could prevent that.

I kept trying to reconnect with him all the same. I had such a hard time connecting with people in general, so I didn't want to lose a friendship so precious. Determined to help Abel the way he had saved me those two years ago with a simple act of kindness, I never left him alone, and continued to treat him as normal. But I didn't know how. I felt like I had already repeated myself over and over like a robot: 'Everything will be fine. You'll definitely recover from this. Hang in there,' etc., etc. Was any of it enough, though? 

It was now the month of May; our junior year was ending. I wanted desperately to make things right again before the school year's end approached in June. 

My eyes kept darting back and forth from my test paper to the clock, which was positioned at the front of the class. Soon, it would be lunch, and I would go find wherever Abel was wallowing by himself and drag him to the rooftop to join us for our usual routine. It would be all right. As soon as the clock tolled twelve, I bolted from my seat, submitted the exam, and raced to his homeroom. As expected, he wasn't there; he had been actively avoiding us more recently. I scanned the room for a familiar face, and when I found one, I immediately went up to him and demanded, "Where the hell is Abel?"

The classmate who sat next to him choked on the rice ball he had been eating. "Uh--I dunno. I think he said something about seeing his coach or something." 

So he would most likely be at the pool. I rushed there, and sure enough, there he was, sitting in his wheelchair and staring placidly at the calm pool waters with an unfathomable expression. What was it about that expression that made me so damn nervous? I couldn't put a finger to it, but the way Abel had been behaving lately had made me feel increasingly on edge, like I needed to be on high alert for him. It was the least I could do, I thought. But when he turned his wheelchair around and grimaced at seeing me, my heart fell and I felt more discouraged than ever. 

But I couldn't give up on him now. He had been there for me--I would do the same. 

"Hey, there you are. I was just--"

"You can stop now, Irina. I'm tired." 

"...Huh?"

His eyes were dull and dead, devoid of any light as he slowly spoke, enunciating every word. 

"You are being a nuisance, you know that? Constantly following me everywhere like a stalker. Does my misery make you happy? Am I not allowed one goddamn minute to myself, now? I'm offended, honestly."

"Abel--you know that's not what I meant..."

"Well, have you considered how I would feel, constantly being watched all the time? I'm not a child; I don't need to be taken care of by someone else. You don't even know how I feel. You've never had this happen to you." 

It was a fact, but the way he distinguished himself from me made it feel like he was forcefully putting distance between us. 

"Our team didn't make it to the finals. I saw Coach and the team wrapping stuff up earlier, and I could only watch. If I had been able to swim, maybe I could've made a difference. Maybe not. But I'll never know for sure. Instead, I'll always feel this emptiness within me, knowing I made absolutely no fucking difference at all. For me, swimming was like breathing; it was my reason for existence, and it was taken away from me. Do you know what that feels like?" 

I didn't know how to respond to that. He was right; I would never know how he truly felt unless I had encountered the same ordeal. It would be dishonest of me to act like I could ever understand, and egotistical for me to assume that I could understand his pain just because I thought I knew pain. My shoulders drooped in shame. 

"I... I just wanted to make you feel better, because while I might not know exactly what you're going through, I wanted to be there for you... I wanted to comfort you."

"I don't need to be comforted."

"But you were so kind to me when we met, and I..."

Abel snorted, which shocked me. He found this to be humorous? How? "It's not a give-and-take kind of thing, Irina. I just genuinely wanted to help you back then."

"As do I now," I refuted. 

Pause. Then, "I know. But this... this isn't what I want. I know you mean well. And I'm sorry, but you can't help me. I need time to figure this shit out by myself." 

"You're probably right..." 

I had stepped over the line. Of course I couldn't comfort him--I didn't even know how. My sloppy approach at friendship had invariably made things worse. Although it pained me immensely to come to that realization, I realized that I would not be able to return his favor; I couldn't pretend to be someone I wasn't--and that was someone who knew how to make others feel better. 

Abel's face turned pale, and he looked so dejected. "Please. If you really care about me, or want to help me... just leave me alone already. Stop pitying me. I can see it in your eyes." 

And as he wheeled himself away, I felt like I had lost him for good. But what could I do? If I intervened, I would hurt him. And if I did nothing, I would hurt him. There was no good solution to the problem. 

Things turned for the worse when after lunch, upon hearing what had happened by the pool, Maria slammed her locker door in pure frustration. 

"Dammit, Irina. This is why I told you to leave him alone, didn't I? You went too far. Why did you have to go and pretend to be something you're not? Why didn't you listen to me? Watching him be like that was painful for me too, but don't you think when I said what I said, I had his intentions at heart too...?" 

When Maria walked away in her fit of anger, too, I felt like I had lost everything. Somehow, I had managed to anger my two only friends in a single day. It felt like I must have extremely bad luck or a bad personality (or maybe both) to be able to do this. 

"Hah..."

For the first time in two years, I felt completely and utterly alone.

[livredebelle]

Twenty-five.

I'M IN LOVE WITH HIM TOO... TOO... TOO...

Shit. This was NOT the time to be thinking about that.

I was standing, rather stiffly, by Maria and Adeline's side as we witnessed the wake for Abel's death anniversary. After some discussion, I had reluctantly agreed to attend, because Maria had been right--I couldn't avoid this forever.

I had a duty I'd been shirking for too long, to pay my past best friend my respects as I should have done the first time.

Nevertheless, the recent event regarding Rose's sudden confession was too much of a shock to my system to ignore. I hadn't been able to say anything in response, too stunned to register that Rose had said something before giving me a hug and leaving the penthouse.

What was it that she had said...?

First of all, her use of the word "too" implied that she was under the impression I was in love with Heath. Which couldn't be the farthest thing from the truth.

I think.

Second, what was her intention by confessing her love to me? What did she expect me to do or say? To give them my blessing? Did she just assume that Heath would pick her over me? Because of course he would; she was more beautiful. But if she assumed it out-right, that would sort of piss me off.

"I'm so glad you were able to come, Irina," Adeline murmured, her posture equally stiff, as though she felt immensely uncomfortable being with me. I didn't blame her one bit; I'd feel the same if I were in her shoes. "We were wondering when you would."

"I'm sorry," I said, trying to make my voice sound as emotionless as possible. Shit, I didn't need to be upsetting anyone unintentionally today. So I acted as though her words didn't wound me at all.

"She's here now," Maria said softly in my defense. I was thankful, but also worried that Adeline wouldn't like that.

Adeline was... the complete opposite of her brother. If Abel was like a ray of sunshine, she was like the raincloud that huddled over you right before a storm. I don't think I'd ever seen her smile. Then again, I barely knew her.

"Oh, I didn't mean anything by it," Adeline said, her eyes closed as she hummed to the tune of the organ playing in the background. "I'm glad to see you today, Irina--truly. I don't think my parents understand that it's no one's fault, what happened. I certainly don't intend to blame an adolescent for what was, simply, an unfortunate happenstance."

I stared at her in disbelief. She was fine? She didn't hate me?

"No, I don't hate you," she responded with a smile, as if she read my mind. "Why would I? Abel loved you guys. Hold on, I'm going to step aside for a lemonade break."

The sound of her clicking heels got farther and farther away.

"See, I told you it was in your head," Maria said as she maintained her usual bored expression. "Adeline's a nice and reasonable lady. No one who's reasonable would blame you for being MIA until now."

"But maybe they should," I whispered. "You were good at being there for his family and friends at the time."

"We were his best friends--not his sisters. It's not like it was on us to protect him, not like we pushed him into the pool ourselves. If anyone, shouldn't Adeline be blamed for not protecting her brother? She was the closest to him proximity-wise. Or what about his parents, who paid for his therapy sessions? Shouldn't they have intervened before things spiraled out of control?"

"I don't think it's so straightforward--"

"You need to stop making yourself out to be the villain in every story, Irina. Sometimes there is no villain. Sometimes life just sucks, and you have to be okay with that."

Maria was right, I knew. But it wasn't like I was trying to play villain, or victim... whatever. It was like my brain was wired to think that everything was automatically my fault. Probably because my parents always blamed me for their divorce or something.

It was pretty self-centered of me for sure, though.

"Death is unforeseeable. That's why so many religions exist--people have to get creative to try and make sense of what happens when they die."

I smirked a little at that. I used to enjoy having these philosophical religious talks with her in high school; we were so snooty back then, believing we were superior to society.

"Anyhoo," I said, wanting to change the subject, "it's not like I expected any better, but there's really no one from his swimming team here. Or anyone else from the school, for that matter."

"It's like his death is old news, when in fact it's only been a couple years. Maybe they're almost eager to forget. But I'll never forget." Her mouth twisted in pain, and I had to look away. It wasn't like I was completely in the dark about the special relationship she and Abel had back then. Nothing had blossomed--Abel hadn't been given the chance to live--but that didn't mean the relationship didn't exist.

My chest squeezed in pain.

"I'm going to get a drink, too," I muttered, fast-walking away. I didn't mean to leave Maria alone when she was feeling vulnerable, but I needed to not be sane right now. It was already becoming too much to handle. At least I had come, right? No one would expect more than this from me anyway.

I headed straight for the hard liquor table, grabbing a glass of bubbly champagne and discreetly slipping a pill of Xanax into it. As I watched the poison fizz in the drink, I remembered the first time I had ventured into Mother's pill stash, figuring that whatever helped her with her demons should help me with mine. I always only took small doses, not enough for her to catch anything was off. Plus, I saw her inhale these pills once, and it would be easy to shift the blame to her overuse instead of my petty theft.

When it had completely dissolved, I sipped the delicious golden honey drink slowly between my lips, almost immediately feeling the euphoric effects that followed. Eventually I felt giggly, even. It felt so silly that I had been freaked out about showing up today. I was a chameleon; nobody even noticed I was here. I could mourn in peace. I kept inadvertently avoiding Maria, because the gravity of her emotions was a big burden to me, and I was the queen of running away.

"Whoa, miss, are you okay?"

Crap. I had stumbled across a waiter and stepped on his foot. Was still stepping on his foot. I stepped back quickly, dazed. Where was my drink? My purse?

I shook my head at the waiter. "I need my phone."

"Hey, there you are," I heard Adeline say, her hand reaching out to me in slow motion. "Maria has been looking for you everywhere. Are you good, or do I need to call you a cab?" Was that a hint of amusement I heard in her voice?

"Sorry. I'm fine, I must've drunk that champagne way faster than I thought." I shook my head. "Have you seen my purse or my phone?"

"You're holding it in your right hand, sweetie."

"Oh..." Fucking hell, I was a goner. That was weird. I don't remember one pill having this big of an effect before. The buzzing in my head was getting louder. Maybe this was a sign from the universe that I needed to stop drinking alcohol. "I've got to go..."

I unlocked my phone screen, barely able to keep my eyes open. Why was I so goddamn sleepy? Gotta keep my shit together.

[Where the hell are you?]

Maria.

[You're in danger, stay where you are. Don't trust anyone.]

Heath...? What an odd message, especially coming from him. Of course I wouldn't trust anyone; that was a given. But what could he mean? It sounded like he was typing urgently; it was odd that he wasn't using proper grammar in his texts.

Like he was in a rush.

"There you are," Adeline crooned as she made her way towards me with her lemonade in hand. "My parents are looking for you; they'd like to say a few words if that's all right with you."

I sloshed the champagne in my mouth while I thought it over. Sure, why not? I was feeling quite good right now, and I was semi-confident I could make it through the ordeal without a hitch. Plus, Maria was right--my fear was unwarranted. It really wasn't our fault that Abel had died. I kept chanting it over and over in my head so I could believe it as I followed Adeline to where her parents awaited.

They were sitting in the study of their gigantic house, their eyes shifting to me once I entered the room. The Clemingtons were rich, but not like Richard was. Still, the impressive lavishness of the study's decorations dazzled me. The Clemingtons sat up straight, their hands primly put together as if they were attending a business meeting. It hadn't yet occurred to me how weird this situation was, that they wanted to see me alone and not Maria.

Mrs. Clemington's scrunched-up face scrunched even more, as if she smelled something foul. I would have been insulted if I wasn't buzzed out of my mind due to the drugs and alcohol.

"Irina. I can't say it's a pleasure to see you again."

Mrs. Clemington had always disapproved of Abel's friendship with me, for once not because of my shitty attitude, but because of the fact I had been a homeless runaway when he met me. Her disapproval only worsened after she found out who my mother was--the washed-out actress who changed husbands as often as she changed her jewelry.

My tongue itched to say something irritable back, but due to the circumstances, I felt the need to implement some self-control.

"Hi, Mrs. Clemington. Thank you for inviting me--I should have come sooner."

"Yes, you should have. That's a given. For the life of me, I will never be able to understand why my son insisted on being friends with the likes of you when he could have befriended his teammates on the swim team. Or anyone, really, who could have been there to save his life. Or witness it, at least."

"Now, Mom, we agreed that's not fair," Adeline interjected. "It was no one's fault; we couldn't have known..."

Mrs. Clemington's voice raised an octave. "What about that diary of his we found? He wrote that he was so lonely, Adeline. I understand that my failures as a parent contributed to that. But shouldn't others who made him feel that way be held accountable, too? Especially when we aren't even sure if it was really a suicide?"

My head began spinning.

Not a suicide?

Impossible. What, then? Homicide? That was crazy.

Adeline sighed heavily, her face in her palms. "Mom, we've been through this. Please. The investigators have told you over and over again... while there is no concrete evidence other than his diary, there's absolutely no suspicious circumstances or other hard evidence that suggests it was anything other than a suicide! Why don't you get that you're making it harder for all of us, including Abel, to move on peacefully?"

Mrs. Clemington only harrumph-ed and stormed out of the room. Mr. Clemington cleared his throat awkwardly and stepped in for his wife.

"I apologize, Irina. We... clearly still haven't quite figured out how to get through this. But we will. And like my wife said... Since there are no other leads... if you happen to hear or see anything that might point the police to some indication either confirming or rebutting the fact..." He couldn't finish. He didn't need to. I nodded solemnly, choosing to otherwise stay quiet as Adeline slinked into the couch where her mother had previously sat, tears glistening down her covered face.

I left the study with this new information tucked away in my brain--not that my brain was good for anything at the moment. The more time ticked, the more my brain felt like jello and I felt like giggling at everything. But that would be inappropriate. I wanted to get away from the vicinity of the wake before I had another meltdown.

I texted Maria that I was heading home, as well as processing the information the Clemingtons had provided me--again, why just me?--when I got the urge to text Rose too. Sometimes I needed a little booze to give me the courage to say what I wanted to say, without reservations. After tossing the idea back and forth in my bubbling brain, I decided to go for it.

[What did you mean yesterday? Why did you tell me that?]

Bzzzt. My phone buzzed right after I sent the text. Did she read my mind? No way.

It was Heath calling. I answered happily.

"Hey there."

"Did you see my text?" he demanded without a greeting. Normally, that would have irked me, but I only laughed.

"Yes, I did. What, is there a scary monster after me now?"

"There's no time to explain. Meet me at the motel around the corner of where you're at." Click. Okay, now I was annoyed. How dare he order me around like that? And what, to a motel? I could smell his intentions from a mile away. But like an idiot, my feet willed me to the exact location he told me to go, and within mere seconds a familiar hand had grabbed my waist, gently but urgently tugging me to a dingy, dusty motel with a shitty paint job that was peeling off the inner walls. He already had a room; we breezed past the hotel concierge and headed up--I don't know how many flights of stairs. When we finally arrived, I was so exhausted from the unexpected workout that I plopped onto the dusty white bed at once.

"Okay. Now you can explain," I insisted with my head down on the pillow. "Why did you bring me here?" Crazy as it was, I knew he must have a good reason; as nefarious as I knew him to be, I knew deep down that he cared about my safety, probably more than anyone else.

Heath closed the shutters and blinds for all the windows, then came to sit down next to me.

"All right. Don't be too alarmed, but--somebody's been following you, Rina."

That sobered me up instantly. I sat up. "What?!"

So my gut feeling had been right the day before. But why was Heath only telling me this now?

"Wait, so what happened yesterday when you told me to go up first?"

"You ran into Rosalie when you got up there, right?" A question for a question.

"Yes, but--"

"Then it's for certain. I don't know how to tell you this... but I have a theory that your mother is working with your stepfather to manipulate Rosalie."

The blood drained from my face. "Richard?"

"Sorry, I should clarify. Ex-stepfather. I meant Pete."

"Pete? That's... he's old news," I stammered in disbelief. "He was supposed to be out of the country. Mother promised..."

I stopped myself. But of course, Heath didn't need to point out the obvious--that it was a mistake, as usual, to rely on Mother's promises.

But then what had everything in the past half year been for? My efforts to protect my sister had all been in vain, who not only didn't appreciate those efforts (to be fair, because she didn't know)--but also was gearing herself to "compete" with me over the same guy.

Fuck.

"So Pete's the one who's been following me, then?" Everything was clicking into place now. I hated the ensuing anxiety that followed with all of this reveling information, but I had always preferred being in the know than remaining blissfully ignorant.

"I believe so, but he may not be the only one. That's why we need to stake it out from somewhere away from the penthouse for the time being. We'll move to another hotel tomorrow as soon as daylight breaks in."

"You'll protect me, then?" I said, sort of sarcastically.

"Yes," he responded earnestly, not an ounce of dishonesty I could sense from him. It warmed my heart, though I was loath to admit it.

"... What's Rosalie's role in all of this, then?" From her recent behavior, it became less difficult for me to believe my little sister could be capable of employing emotional manipulation herself. After all, my emotions were still reeling from her confession, and she hadn't responded to or read my text yet--a fact that had not escaped my notice.

Heath shrugged. "She could be willing, or unwilling... Either way, she is a participant and a threat. So I will need to eliminate her. What did she say to you, again?" He repeated his question from before, changing the course of the conversation so abruptly I wasn't able to respond to the 'eliminate' part.

How to break the news to him gently? There really wasn't a good way, so I decided on the most direct one.

"She told me she was in love with you." I left out the too part; my pride wouldn't allow me to be completely honest.

Heath snorted and cracked his neck. "Hilarious. Now why would she say that?"

"I dunno if it's true, but... One thing I know for sure is, she seemed really off. I have never seen her behave this way."

"I suppose it could happen." God, how conceited could he get? I almost rolled my eyes. "Our roots with each other run deep, you know."

He came closer to my body and snaked his arm around my waist ever so casually. I froze like a deer struck by shining headlights.

"We were technically childhood friends, you do realize."

I blinked at him.

"What?!" I shrieked for the umpteenth time that night.

[livredebelle]

Twenty-four.

"I TOLD YOU, I DON'T NEED A RIDE."

I wasn't going to lie--it was getting to be really annoying, not having my own driver's license and a car. It was getting tiresome that people would always offer me a ride, which I appreciated but genuinely found burdensome.

I frowned at Quinn, who was whirling the keys to his Harley around his finger looking at me quizzically.

"You used to love riding my bike. What made you change your mind about them?"

"We haven't talked in months." I didn't feel the need to explain further; he would get it. And he did, from immediate look of apology on his face.

"Look, I--"

"Besides, I have a ride with Rue," I lied, not allowing him to finish. I wasn't emotionally prepared to deal with him right now. Maybe it was selfish of me, but I was feeling bitter that he had pushed me away so easily, despite his promises that we'd be friends forever. Never mind that I was in the wrong. A part of me had thought he would never be the one to throw me away--but I had been clearly wrong about that.

Now, that wasn't fair, I knew. But I simply didn't care.

"Oh really."

"Yes."

Silence. I gnawed on my lower lip nervously, not looking his way. I had lost track of where Rue went after her eleventh shot of soju. I was hoping that I could nonchalantly scan the restaurant to look for her when my phone rang. I picked up without looking at caller ID.

"Hello."

"I'm here to get you," a voice purred at the other end, sending goosebumps down my spine. Ugh. Bastard.

"How did you--"

"It's like I have my own special Rina radar. I felt like you needed me. Just as much as I felt like I needed you."

Legs, don't turn into noodles now. I cleared my throat, willing myself to be unaffected. "I'll meet you outside by the entrance in a few." I didn't want to seem overly eager to leave, like I was.

"Did your real ride just get here?" Quinn asked dryly. He was struggling to keep his voice even.

"You don't get to ask me questions."

"I'm not trying to fight, Irina. I just wanted to talk and clear the air. I've been trying to get in contact with you for weeks." He probably didn't realize that I'd blocked him from everything. It was my method; a way of ensuring a clean break whenever relationships in my life went awry.

"There's nothing to talk about. Besides, nothing has changed since then." The falling out. "It would be pointless."

"But I--"

"I've got to go."

I hurried away, not wanting to continue the conversation. It was like someone had stabbed me in the stomach with a knife and was twisting it ever so slowly. I felt like I could vomit.

The wave of relief I felt when I spotted Heath's Audi parked by the curb was indescribable. I heaved a sigh and was about to basically sprint towards the car when a small hand stopped me.

"I finally found you!" Rue sang, her breath soaked in alcohol. I plugged my nose. "Come on, we're heading off to Round Two! There's a neat karaoke bar near downtown."

"I can't, Rue. I'm not feeling too good." I hoped my face could show how sincere I was being.

"Oh, nonsense! It's just the alcohol. Once we get some water in you, you'll be perfect. C'mon, we don't want to disappoint the seniors."

"But--"

"Yeesh, what is it with you? What part of 'no' do you not understand? I've witnessed your abrasive behavior so many times tonight--if she says no, it means no. Capiche?"

Quinn's angry voice. I hardly ever heard him use it, because he was generally too good-natured to get angry. It caught me by surprise.

Rue flushed red in embarrassment, but she let go of her hold on my arm. "I was just trying to encourage her to socialize more. You know, because she's always being so antisocial. I meant no harm." Her lips pressed tightly together, and her big googly eyes glistened as if she was going to cry.

Quinn turned away from her, unperturbed, and faced me. "Don't let anyone pressure you to do something you don't want to do. Not that I think you normally would; you're obviously not feeling too hot right now." He put his hand on my forehead and shook his head. "You have a fever. Get home, and rest. I'll text you later. Just... please... don't ignore me, okay? I'm really sorry."

I nodded, lacking the energy to do more than that. I would have to remember to unblock him later. I figured, I could at least hear the guy out. I didn't have to actually respond if I didn't feel like it.

God, I'm such a bitch.

Rue didn't mean to be annoying, I knew. Her interest in me was... sometimes misplaced, that I could admit. She seemed to always need me to accompany her everywhere, like I needed to be part of her life all day, every day. It was exhausting, being friends with someone who wouldn't really ever take 'no' for an answer. How do you persist in rejection, though, when she clearly doesn't mean any malice?

Still, annoying is annoying. It felt refreshing that Quinn had said what I had been wanting to say for awhile now.

Rue slowly walked away, and I made a mental note to text her later to console and reassure her that we were still friends. Otherwise, I'd be stuck with her sulky, pouty attitude for the following week during classes.

Sighing, I slid into the front seat of Heath's car out of habit. Heath looked at me, then his eyes darted to his side mirror where he was clearly assessing the situation I had just walked away from.

"Hmm. That boy is here," he murmured.

"That boy? We're practically the same age."

"Yes, I know what I said." Heath grinned. "Nevertheless... I had thought that boy was out of your life, the last time I checked. Is he back?"

"No. Yes? I don't have a clue. But that, sir, is my prerogative. Now take us home."

"Someone's feeling bossy today. Yes, ma'am." He was struggling to hide the smile in his voice.

I closed my eyes, about to drift off to sleep as I was tired from the alcohol and all the socializing. I hoped Rue wouldn't find the rest of the evening boring without me, and I secretly hoped Quinn wouldn't text me, so my brain wouldn't have to do somersaults as I analyzed whether or not to let him back in my life. Assuming he wanted to, of course--which he made it seem like.

"Did you have fun, though?"

My eyes fluttered open. Headache. "Sort of. I might have upset Rue, though. I don't think I was good company for her tonight."

"Since when have you cared whether you upset people or not?"

"I mean, we're friends."

"Hmm. I'd be careful of that girl if I were you." Heath clicked his tongue. "There's something off about her that I don't like."

"You say that about everybody."

"Fair. Everyone except you."

"You're terrible at flirting."

"I'm serious, though. Have you considered she might be in love with you?"

I laughed heartily at that. "What? Don't be insane. Does your jealousy know no bounds?"

He smiled. "I'm only saying--I've caught her glancing at you the same way I do. It's something you can't see because you're oblivious to affection. Like recognizes like, you see."

I rolled my eyes, not believing him for a second. "She has someone she likes." I cringed, remembering the senior.

He didn't miss that. "Something amiss?"

"Rue has terrible taste in men. Ugh. The guy she was with was so rude and annoying earlier. He kept butting in to me and Quinn's conversation."

"Oh? And what were you two conversing about?"

"Nothing in particular. He was asking why I was ignoring him, which is unfair because he's the one who ended the friendship first."

"You sound like a sullen child. I'm surprised at you. Although, I suppose I shouldn't complain about that." Heath paused, as if a new thought had occurred to him. "Has he ever confessed to you before?"

I bit my lip. Sure, Heath and I had gotten a lot closer to the point of disclosing certain secrets. Not that this was a secret or anything. I just got nervous whenever Heath's jealousy flared, because I was fully aware of how destructive it could be.

"No," I told him truthfully. After all, Quinn had only alluded to his interest in me in the past. And it had never been beyond suggestive--I was fairly convinced he was only interested in me sexually.

"Hmm." He left it at that. Ever so mysterious.

We sat in silence for the rest of the ride home, any thought of sleep forgotten. Suddenly, the alcohol was buzzing in my veins, and I was itching to kiss Heath again, this time on the lips. Jesus, what was wrong with me? Whenever it came to him, I couldn't get my impulses under control. But I was still mortified about my last slip-up when I kissed him on the cheek--something about his sleek leather car seats turned me on, I swear, it wasn't me--and I refused to allow room for mistakes. No, the next time either of us made a move, it would be on purpose.

Which would make it that much more meaningful.

When we arrived and I stepped out of the car, I felt chills run all over my back. The sensation that I was being watched arose once more. I whirled around and scanned the area, but there was nothing out of place that I could find. I stomped my foot in frustration. My paranoia was really getting out of control.

"What's the matter?" Heath came to my side, all serious as he also scanned our surroundings. I felt more at ease at that; his eyes would miss nothing.

"I dunno. I could've sworn I felt someone watching us... but I'm probably just being hypersensitive and paranoid again."

"Hm. Why don't you go inside first," Heath suggested, crossing his arms. "I suppose I should fulfill my bodyguard duties and thoroughly search the area. Make sure it's safe for my little princess."

"Wha--who the hell is your princess?" I scoffed, turning towards the building. "Fine, I'm going." Let him waste his time, I guess. When I got to the penthouse, the first thing I was going to do was throw off all my clothes and snuggle into my bed for a well-deserved nap. Fuck food.

Only when I got to the penthouse, instead of complete solace and peace, a guest was waiting for me in the kitchen.

"Hey, sis." Rosalie smiled. "Where have you been for so long?"

***

"Step out, you piece of shit. I can see your shadow from behind the telephone pole."

Heath cracked his knuckles and neck as his shifty eyes adjusted to the lighting. Of course, before Irina had even mentioned it, he had sensed that someone was tailing him, and while the perpetrator was pretty good at hiding his existence, he wasn't perfect like Heath was.

"Yeesh, you caught me."

An old man around his fifties stepped out from exactly where Heath had pinpointed. He had freckles like Rosalie, and his leery grin made Heath antsy.

"And you are?"

"I thought you and Melanie were a team, too," the man said, avoiding Heath's question. "Surely you can make a guess?"

"We're no longer working on the same terms."

"Interesting. Doesn't matter, though. I'm getting paid either way, all the same." The man stepped closer towards Heath and the building. "Mind letting me through? I came here to visit my daughters; I have no business with you."

"Daughter, you sick fuck--Irina's not yours," Heath hissed, his teeth grinding. He was furious. Her family was always declaring ownership over her and dehumanizing her that way. Now that he was here, over his dead body was that going to happen.

"From my understanding, you aren't such a knight in shining armor, yourself," the man laughed. "But fine--let's say she's not. What right do you have to deny me from seeing her anyway?" He grinned evilly. "You aren't her family or anything, kid. So stop being a shitty brat and let me through before somebody gets hurt."

"You're right about one thing, at least," Heath said with his signature Cheshire cat smile, stretching his arms before he went in for the kill.

***

"What are you doing here, Rose?" I said finally, no effort to hide the impatience in my tone. Hated it when my napping plans got ruined. Also, how had she gotten inside? So many questions.

"I've been feeling guilty about something for a long time, sis," she answered. Her cheeks were bright pink, and the look of ecstasy on her face somehow made my stomach churn. "I've been wanting to tell you all along, and now I finally can."

"What on earth are you talking about?"

She took a deep breath and smiled angelically, a little apologetically.

"Sis, I'm in love with Heath, too."

[livredebelle]

Twenty-three.

I FROZE RIGHT AWAY, waiting for his reaction--and was left spinning my wheels when it didn't come. Heath just smiled again and closed the car door, making no effort to make a comment about my act. Bewildered, I stared at him.

"What, is there something on my face?"

"You know damn well there isn't. Don't you have anything to say?"

"Why don't you tell me what you want to hear instead?" he asked sweetly.

"Fucker."

He chuckled, barely containing his sarcasm. "I didn't realize you were so ego-centric. Did you expect me to fall at your feet over a mere kiss on the cheek?"

"Ahhhh, shut up! I did no such thing." I covered my ears childishly. "It didn't happen. If I say it didn't happen, it didn't happen."

"Don't fight it. Our relationship would flourish faster if you would just give in and let it happen--be honest with yourself."

I scoffed and rolled my eyes, looking out the window. "Shut up and focus on driving. I need to get home so I can change and get ready to go out."

"If I can't persuade you otherwise, let me help you pick your outfit. You tend to have a poor taste in dress."

"What do you know about fashion?" I wasn't really offended; Maria had told me countless times in high school as such, but it wasn't like I could fix it if I didn't see the problem to begin with. At least in high school, Maria would dress me up like her own doll--and it was acceptable then considering how close we were--but now, I couldn't imagine having someone like that. "It's fine, anyway. It's not like I care about how others think I look."

Which was sort of true. I didn't care too much about my clothes because I figured it was pointless anyhow; my pudgy body was nowhere near perfect.

His lips curved up into a smile. "Even if you don't, I would love for the opportunity to dress you up. Haven't you watched Pretty Woman?"

"One of the most sexist movies of all time? What about it?"

"It's a classic romance."

"Is it, though? I seem to recall the male protagonist being a self-assuming pig and disrespecting the woman the whole time."

"Hm."

"Like the scene where he tells someone else that she's a prostitute. I mean, what is that? It's not his place to tell anyone that, yet he acts all high and mighty just because he's another corporate asshole who sees other people as objects reduced to an arbitrary monetary value."

"We should watch the film together again soon. I watched it a long time ago, but still, it is so refreshing to hear a different point of view."

"Why would I watch it with you?" I said grouchily. I was still feeling the sting of his rejection, loud and strong. What an idiotic thing to do--I had no idea why I had kissed him. Even if it was just on his cheek, the fact that I made the first move hurt my pride more than anything. That had never happened before. Ever since he saved me from that fainting spell, we had been acting closer, albeit without realizing.

I wanted to return to the time before, when there had been so much space in between us.

Before that space completely disappeared.

"I'll be waiting up for you with the popcorn."

"I might be late."

"Doesn't matter. I probably sleep later than you do, you realize."

"Hmph."

We drove the rest of the way in silence, and once we reached the building elevator I held my breath. Since that day, I hadn't seen or spoken with Mother at all. I didn't want to avoid her, but it was hard to even breathe properly around her front door, so I didn't want to push it.

Thinking of Mother always brought back bad memories. Maybe because my life is only full of bad memories--I dunno. What I do know for certain is, at an age where I should be fully independent and free of this monstrously tight chain on my neck called "familial responsibility," I'm neither of those things.

Why was I still bound? Was it because I was still too weak, too fragile to fight back?

When my mother was concerned, I felt reduced to an itty bitty infant. A vivid memory still haunts me:

***

"Of course, I'll bring the cake. How are your children doing?"

Mother stood by the home phone, smiling and chatting with a random lady from church.

In her right hand is the shiny kitchen knife.

A mere second ago, she had been hurling and pointing it at us. Just a little while ago, she had threatened to kill us and called us names no human being should ever know.

But in the face of religion, my mother was a prim and proper angel.

After her career started to sink, she dove deep into the catechism of Christianity, believing that a higher being would come save her. When salvation didn't come, Mother's fury could not be contained by any apostle or his teachings.

Shaking in fear, I remember staring into Mother's eyes then.

Her eyes that were full of hatred and malice.

No parent hates their child, the world exclaims.

What kind of an ignorant person do you have to be to believe that?

There are always exceptions. The world of parenting isn't so fulfilling and full of promises as one invariably would hope.

Sometimes, a child is nothing but the product of a parent's failures and disappointments.

A menace.

A demon.

'Not mine.'

Sometimes, that child grows up to be no better than her abuser.

***

As promised, Heath dropped me off in front of the restaurant where I had promised to meet Rue. She was waiting outside, beaming when I opened the car door and stepped outside. Before I walked away, however, Heath warned:

"Be careful and don't trust anyone. I'll be back to pick you up when you call."

Before I had the chance to ask him what the hell he was talking about, he drove off. Why would he say something so ominous? It wasn't like he had to say that anyhow--I rarely trusted people--but I shrugged it off. Heath just didn't like Rue for whatever reason--that must be why.

"You're here!" Rue chirped as she grabbed my hand. "Come on; everyone's waiting."

"I hope there's not a lot of people... you know how I get uncomfortable in big crowds."

"Not really. I called it a 'party,' but it's really an exaggeration. There's only, like, four of us and a couple senior boys." She giggled, and I rolled my eyes.

As we walked in, I halted in my tracks.

No fucking way. Quinn?

Despite watching my eyes widen, Rue--who was a bit dense in the head--happily announced: "We're hereeee! Sorry to keep you waiting!"

I blanched. God, this was going to be worse than I ever imagined. This was what I deserved for going out; Heath was right--I should have stayed the fuck home.

"Um, listen, I'm not feeling too hot--"

"What are you talking about?" she hissed. "They'll never invite us again if we leave now. Come on, don't be a chicken!"

I took a deep breath. She was somewhat right--Quinn had noticed me too (we made eye contact), and if I bailed now it would really be foolish of me. Besides, maybe things were awkward, but there was no reason necessarily to run away... right?

I had to really work harder at my persuasion skills, because I was having a hard time convincing even myself.

Reluctantly, I followed Rue as she trotted off and sat across from a senior she liked. As she batted her eyes at him and tried to show off her impressive cleavage, I swallowed hard and tried my best to keep my face neutral.

"Hey, Irina. It's been awhile."

Understatement of the year!

"Um, hi." I didn't know what else to say. My voice sounded weird to my ears, so I left it at that.

"I didn't think you'd be the type to come out to these things."

"I'm not."

"Then...?" Quinn raised his eyebrows, and my chest hurt a bit as I remembered the many past times I had witnessed that incredulous look. When we had still been friends.

"I came for my friend." I shrugged and glanced over at Rue to make my point. Thankfully, a waitress came to take our order at that time, so I didn't have to continue. I had more time to rack my brain for appropriate responses to anticipated conversation topics. Not just for Quinn, but in general, because people at the table had started talking to me--including the senior across from Rue.

"You're a new face," he drawled, and I did my best to not cringe away at his garlic breath that was permeating the room. "How come I've never seen you around before?"

"Her name is Irina. She's shy," Rue quickly explained, eager to move the conversation away from me. Good.

But the senior persisted. "I think you look pretty cute. Here, why don't you sit next to me for the rest of the night? I'll pour your drinks."

"She's not interested." Quinn's steely cold tone cut him off.

"Who are you, her boyfriend? If not, back off. Everyone has a fair shot at everybody here."

I squared my shoulders and gave him a glare. "Allow me, then. I'm not interested. I don't have an ideal type in men, but if I did, it would certainly not be anywhere near someone as burly and smelly as you."

Everyone at the table burst out laughing. The senior's face turned red, but he ran out of things to say because he huffed loudly and faced away from me. Later he would claim that he was never interested in someone as bare-chested as me in the first place. Both lies, because I know that I'm well-endowed in that area. Well, not well, but maybe okay.

The rest of the night, I felt a pair of eyes constantly watching me. I figured it was Quinn or that rude senior, and shrugged it off.

I was wrong.

[livredebelle]

Twenty-two.

"...I KNOW, BUT... wait a second. She's stirring."

The first thing I heard when I awoke was the shrill piercing ringing sound in my right ear. Dazed and disoriented, I tried to sit up in bed, only to be pushed back down by a familiar, warm hand.

"What do you think you're doing? Lie back down."

"What happened? How did I get here?"

I had no recollection of how I'd ended up in my room, in my bed. I knew that had been my full intention when I'd come "home," but I also remembered the sensation of falling.

"You fainted at the doorstep. Don't you remember? You were losing some blood and severely dehydrated; it was only natural that would happen."

"Are you a doctor or something, then?"

He chuckled. "No, but my mother was." As my brain tried to process this new bit of information, he snapped his phone shut. Who still used an old flip phone in this day and age? "Shall I take your temperature one more time?"

"No, thanks. I feel fine." No need to give this guy an excuse to touch me, when that was the least of my worries. As my memory came back to me slowly--the horridness of the evening drama with my so-called "family"--I shook my head, as if trying to deny it happened. Refusing to dwell on what could very well be the cause of an upcoming panic attack, I changed the subject. "What time is it?"

"3 AM." Heath cocked his head to the side slightly, his eyes darting back and forth every time my body made a movement.

"I'm sorry, you should be sleeping, not having to take care of me like this. I'll be fine now, so could you leave?"

"You don't sound sorry at all," he observed.

I clicked my tongue. "What else do you want to hear? It's not like I asked you to help me--you did it of your own accord. What, should I fall down on my knees and thank you for your sense of heroism?"

"One day, I'm going to do something about that poison-laden tongue of yours." His promise was sensual and dark, and I stared hard at my hands, barely holding back a shiver. He stood, and headed towards my bedroom door. "You're right though. I decided to help you on my own, so I suppose there's no one to blame but myself for your... lack of enthusiasm. And there's no need for you to be sorry towards me--not now, not ever." What was he saying now? He wasn't making sense, as was usual. "I'll let you rest--holler if you need anything." And with that, he made his graceful exit, leaving me angry and fussy and exasperated. What did I want? Wasn't it for him to leave? Yet why was I feeling so frustrated...

Sighing, I collapsed back onto my pillow and stared up at the ceiling, trying to empty my mind and failing miserably at it. Should I skip school when the sun comes up? No, it wouldn't be right--a waste of tuition money. I could never be so ungrateful. For now, though, I would sleep, and in my slumber fervently pray, once again, that I would not wake up and have to face the day.

***

I woke up.

I hate God.

As I trudged my ass to school, panting as it was difficult to breathe, I pondered briefly about who Heath had been on the phone with before I had awoken with him in the room. A secret girlfriend, perhaps? A bitter taste infiltrated my mouth.

I barely recalled how I made it to my seat for the first class. It happened to be the class Heath was assisting, too--hard to not think of the guy when I saw him more often than I did anyone else.

"Hi, is the seat next to you taken?"

A girl with short pixie hair and an overly sweet smile inquired, pointing to the one by my right. Immediately, I became uncomfortable. Why did people persist in talking to me when I had my beats in? Did that not give off the vibe, "Don't talk to me"? Maybe this person was just that dense.

I shook my head without saying more, hoping she would drop it. In my peripheral vision, I spotted Heath entering the lecture hall to hand the professor a stack of papers. He caught my eye, witnessing my discomfort and raising one of his eyebrows, as if he also couldn't believe what he was witnessing. Usually, nobody talked to me. But this annoying girl beamed and commenced to talk my ear off about how excited she was for the semester, and how she was hoping to make a lot of friends in college because she was a loner in high school... yadda yadda... I intensely focused on the blackboard in front of me, not because I found what the professor was writing was that interesting, but in an effort to dissuade her. But she could not be dissuaded so easily.

"Ooh, I like that anime character too!" She pointed to a sticker on my notebook. "The ending was such a plot twist, didn't you think so?"

"Do I know you?" I said, failing to hide my irritation.

"N-no, but I was hoping--"

"I hate spoilers."

I didn't let her finish and turned my attention back to the board. It didn't matter what she hoped for; I was not in the mood to make small talk--fuck what she wanted.

The chatty girl bit her lip but otherwise abided by my request for the remainder of class, to my relief. However, once class was over and I stood abruptly to leave for a smoke break, I noticed the girl tailing me, barely a step away.

Not wanting to cause a scene in the campus hallways, I pretended not to notice until we got outside to the outside smoking area. I crossed my arms and whirled to confront her, but she was no longer there. Huh. Maybe it was in my imagination...

"Hi! Do you need a lighter? Wanna use mine?"

The pixie-haired girl was here after all; still managing to smile somehow, she held out a rainbow-colored BIC lighter and held it out to me all innocently. What a complete paradox.

"I have my own. More importantly, what do you want?"

"Like I was trying to say earlier, I was hoping we could become friends. Is that too much to ask?" Her face crumpled in despair, which caused me to be taken by surprise--a rare accomplishment on her part.

"Why would you want to be friends with me?"

Truly, I was baffled. What made her think--no, what made her approach me to begin with? I knew I had a reputation for having one of the worst resting bitch faces on earth. This girl was bubbly and friendly--two characteristics I tended to avoid because I simply could not relate to those kinds of people.

She tilted her head. "What do you mean? I think you're really cool and pretty, and as soon as I saw you in the beginning of the semester I've wanted to be your friend. I only had the courage to talk to you now." She shrugged sheepishly and smiled brightly once more. "Is that too much?"

It was. It definitely was. And yet...

I couldn't shake her off, and that impressed me. It took a lot of patience to deal with me, I knew. It made my bitchiness melt away--albeit reluctantly.

I took out my own lighter and lit up a stoge without a word, unsure of what to say next. Luckily, she didn't stay quiet for long.

"I always thought it looked cooler when women smoked. Don't get me wrong, I don't smoke," the girl clarified as if I had asked, "but I do admire the women who do."

"What does that even mean?"

"I have a thing for tall women," she confessed, and winked at me. When I stared at her in puzzlement, she burst out laughing.

"I'm only teasing you, I'm teasing! God, you should've seen the look on your face."

Giving me another one of her wide smiles, she held out her hand for me to shake.

An offering.

"Nice to meetcha! I'm called Ruse, but I prefer Rue. I have a feeling we're going to be the best of friends."

Little did I know then that this would be the start of another human relationship full of bitter lies and disappointments.

But I supposed that, by this point in my life, I really should not continue to be disappointed by people.

So whose fault was it, really, if not mine--as always?

***

Rue followed me around all the time after that, whether I liked it or not. She was difficult to shake off, and I had grown tired of trying only to be faced with more of her optimism, which was even more annoying.

Truthfully, though, I was acting sulky on the outside, but I kind of liked the feeling of someone wanting my company again, for whatever weird reason. It was hard for me to accept the fact that there must've been a reason for her wanting to do so in the first place. After all, who would?

But if I could let myself live in this lie for just a little longer.

Just until I could feel like a normal human again.

"You should totally come to the party tonight, too, Irina," Rue sang as I closed my locker after shoving my books inside. "Only the hottest seniors are attending, and I heard their numbers are uneven and they need more girls."

"I told you, I'm not like that. I don't like going out."

"But you promised we'd hang out outside of your apartment sometime!"

"I did no such thing."

She pouted and linked her arms with mine. "C'mon. It'll be a nice change of pace. You said so yourself that you've felt stuffy lately--what better than to go out and enjoy the fresh air with new people at a beach bonfire? Doesn't that sound romantic?"

"No. I hate sand. And even if it did, that would be more of a reason for me not to go."

"Such a party pooper!"

I shrugged. "It's not like you didn't know."

It was new, this feeling, yet familiar at the same time. I hated to admit it, but spending time with Rue reminded me of Abel more often than not. Their personalities... they were so similar. It was like their happiness could never be dampened, even by my own exuding darkness. Of course, still different, but at this point in time I was craving familiarity because it gave me a sense of comfort.

Hanging out with Rue also made me nostalgic for Quinn, because my friendship with him had been so effortless, where I could wholly and unapologetically be myself--different from my friendship with Rue. Because she and I were so different, I felt the need to shield her from my toxicity, and I found myself prioritizing her emotions over mine in attempts to eradicate myself. If that made sense.

"True, but there'll be free drinks for freshmen! Isn't that alone good enough of a reason to go? Pretty please, for me?"

I rolled my eyes. Rue was a couple years younger than me; a nerd who graduated high school early with all her scholarships for college. It did strike me as odd that such a person would wind up coming to a local university like here, but I didn't ask--she probably had her own circumstances. Sometimes the age difference bothered me because it made me feel like the need to become an older sister figure, maybe because she and Rose were around the same age bucket.

"Pleaseeeee--"

"God, fine, I'll go! Just stop whining!" I snapped, unable to hide the irritation in my voice. I immediately regretted lashing out.

But Rue just clapped her hands and laughed giddily. "Okay, yay! I'll let them know. This is going to be so much fun! I'm so happy!"

I knew I was going to regret saying yes, but my head was thumping, and I felt the need to do whatever necessary to extract myself from her presence for a little while. Lest I lose my mind.

"See you later, then," I said dismissively, walking away. God, I needed a smoke very badly, but first--coffee. My headache was turning into a migraine, and I needed to appease it very badly; caffeine often helped. I headed towards my favorite vending machine (it was my favorite because it was old and wonky, and sometimes spat out my coin, giving me a free drink). I used to joke with Quinn that whether I'd be able to get a free drink from the machine depended on the amount of good karma I was harnessing on a particular day, and I needed some good karma right about now.

Turns out the world was against me--the machine would just keep spitting out my coin without giving me the canned coffee I wanted. Frustrated, I kicked the damn machine. Why was nothing going right today?

"Finally shook off the mongrel, I see," Heath's smooth voice interjected. He was standing behind me--I knew even without turning around based on the soapy aroma that was permeating from him, damn my sensitive nose.

"What do you want now. I told you before, I don't want people seeing us together and getting the wrong idea."

"Or the right idea." I could hear the hint of a smile in his voice. Sly bastard.

"Shut up. And isn't it kinda rude to call someone 'mongrel'? You don't even know Rue."

Heath shrugged and casually handed me a canned coffee that he pulled out from his work bag. I glared at him but took the drink as he said, "Was that her name?"

"She's in your class, too!"

"I don't recall. In fact, I don't keep tabs on anyone in that class other than you."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm honored." I took a swig of the coffee he gave me and felt immediate bliss and relief. Sighing, I closed my eyes. "Thanks for this, I guess. I desperately needed coffee."

He nodded and sipped his own. "I understand the crippling effects of caffeine dependency. Speaking of, your health is still not up to par since the night you passed out--are you sure you should be going out so late at night?"

It took me a moment to understand what he was referring to. "How did you know I'm going out? Were you eavesdropping on us? You creep."

"Not at all. I just happened to be nearby so I could give you the canned coffee... not my fault if neither of you noticed."

"Ugh. Look, I don't even want to go, okay? But I already gave Rue my word, and I'm going. One night out can't hurt. Plus, I'll take some Tylenol later before I head out."

"I still don't approve."

"You don't have the right to approve of my going out."

By this point, despite the tone of our conversation, we had naturally started walking towards his car together. Even though I made a fuss about people at school seeing us together, to be honest I had already given up--by now, people knew that we carpooled to and from school in recent days. I had eventually acquiesced to Heath's offers for a ride because riding public transportation or walking are both equally more tedious, and I needed to save my energy for homework and other bullshit.

"Hmm," was all Heath said as he casually leaned over to buckle me into the front seat.

"I'll be home before curfew," I commented mockingly.

He smirked. "Good girl. You better--unless you want me to punish you."

With those words I turned into a pool of liquid in my car seat. My desire for him flared hotter than ever. Must resist...

As he buckled me in, I felt his warm, addictive breath wash over my face, overwhelming my senses completely; and I couldn't hold it in anymore.

I leaned towards him to impose a peck on his cheek.

[livredebelle]

Twenty-one.

MIND-RACING, HEART THUMPING, ADRENALINE RUSHING...

I blinked three times rapidly in an effort to keep the tears from falling.

I hate this, I hate this, I HATE YOU!

"Not now, Mother," I managed to ground out, "I'm not feeling well." I rushed over to the elevator and pressed the button over and over, as if that would make it come sooner.

"What's the rush, love? If you're not feeling well, come inside and lie down for a bit, and I'll get Mrs. Young to make you some tea or congee."

"I'm busy."

"Well, make sure to join us for dinner this week. You know your presence is required as part of our bargain."

I pressed my lips tightly together in an effort not to scream at her. She was so insufferable--clearly she could see I was suffering, yet she chose to go ahead with what she wanted to say anyway, and throw a little bit of shade in it.

Truly the Mother of the Year.

"Great," was my response. "I'll try."

"You really shouldn't be so nonchalant, you know? What will you do if I decide to give Pete a ring, and ask him if he wants to come meet his daughter for once?"

I whirled around at that, seething.

"You're really going to do this now? Fine, why don't you say it louder--let your precious little daughter know about how you're selling her out to the devil. How can you be such a bitch?"

"What did you say--"

"Irina!"

Rosalie's chirpy voice came from the entrance. I smacked my lips and grinned at my mother.

"Well? Do you want to continue this conversation now, or what?"

Mother's face turned turnip red. Good--she deserved to feel like shit for what she was trying to do. This woman was shameless, but she had a buttload of pride; because I was the same, I knew exactly how to make her writhe. Of course, I also knew I'd regret it later, but God it felt so good--especially when I was already feeling like shit.

Rose's face fell when she came to encounter the confrontation in the hallway, her eyes darting back and forth between us, sensing the ominous mood.

"Um..."

As she fidgeted, Mother snapped out of her silent fury.

"Hurry up and get inside. If you're done with practice, you should head home immediately--where have you been until now?!"

As usual, taking her anger out on the wrong person. Still, Rose obeyed and, after giving me one parting glance, she hurriedly ran after Mother into their house.

I grimaced. I didn't want to get involved, and I definitely didn't have the capacity to interfere--but I still had to try. For my sister's sake. If anything, I was acting out of guilt, which in my opinion justified nothing.

I sucked in a deep breath before willingly stepping through the door; it felt like I was crossing the barrier into hell. I looked around the house, taking a long good look at the way Mother had arranged the furniture. She had always fussed about how decorating your home was critical, because it was an opportunity for people to appreciate your taste in art, culture, etc. Blech. What nonsense. I saw that to this day, she was abiding by that philosophy; there were numerous paintings on the walls that I could only recognize as being famous for something. I wished I could ask Maria about it.

"She was with me," I grunted, catching up to where Mother and Rose stood in the living room. "That's why I just got in too." It was a half-lie--I didn't know where Rose had been in between the time she had met me and now, but I figured it wouldn't appease Mother in the slightest, unless it was more dance practice.

"You stay out of this."

"But why? I'm the one you were originally angry at. You wanted to know where Rose had been, and I'm telling you. Now will you let the poor girl go so she can change into comfortable clothes and get started on homework?"

Mother crossed her arms spitefully. "Who's the mother--you or me?"

I resisted the temptation to roll my eyes--a miracle. "Do you expect me to answer seriously?"

She glowered. "Aren't you supposed to be sick? Why are you entering someone else's home and causing a ruckus?"

"I'm just trying to preserve the peace."

"Somehow I doubt that. You've always had a talent for stirring up trouble since you were young. What are you playing at?"

"Melanie."

A low, gruff voice interrupted us--all in good timing, too, because my stomach could no longer take the intense anxiety I was trying to bottle up. The container was full. I darted to the nearest kitchen sink and vomited everything I had eaten that day out of my system.

"It appears Irina is feeling unwell indeed," Richard said, his lanky self appearing from the shadows. His sharp features and indifferent expression scared the bejeezus out of me still. I wiped and rinsed my mouth. "We should allow her to get some rest in the guest room while Ms. Goodham prepares dinner."

"I'm not hungry, thanks."

Richard's eyes were steel cold. "It wasn't an invitation."

I openly rolled my eyes. "You have no authority over me."

At that precise moment, something crashed near my right ear. I blinked rapidly, only to realize that my stepfather had thrown a nearby glass cup towards me, which had shattered behind me on the kitchen wall, missing my ear by a few mere centimeters. It took me more than a moment to regain my composure.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, you old fuck?"

"Irina!" Mother hissed, at the same time Rose made a small whimpering sound.

"What? Oh, of course you're going to take the side of your new sugar daddy. God, you people make me sick."

"R-Rina, your ear..."

I touched the back of my right ear and winced; shards of the shattered glass cup had scratched it or something. I laughed at the awkwardness of the situation--how else was I supposed to react? My family, old and new, was always going to be crazy. This was why I had pried myself free years ago; I felt my sanity slipping away each and every second I was forced to weather their presence. I couldn't even look at Rosalie--a part of me secretly harbored resentment for the fact that she chose, time and time again, to be an "innocent" bystander, watching me suffer yet doing absolutely nothing about it.

I shrugged and squared my shoulders. "Richard, you may be my stepfather legally, but you have no actual hold over me. Although I haven't yet been able to break out of this vicious cycle of having to deal with shit people like you who call yourselves human beings, never doubt that I wouldn't hesitate to defend myself. I'll kill you with my hands if I have to."

And I meant it. At that very moment, I was seeing red in my vision--no rhyme or reason would break me out of my spell. A court of law would side with me on this and call it self-defense, right? Without thinking, I grabbed a kitchen knife from the counter and held it out towards him.

"Well? Shall we dance?"

Richard was breathing heavily, as if he had realized the absurdity of his action and needed a minute to compose himself. Well, I wasn't going to wait for that.

But I also didn't want to murder someone who wasn't worth my time for shit. We had barely begun to get acquainted with each other since the wedding, but already it was a mess, which was a gross understatement.

Sighing, I threw the knife onto the floor, acting bored.

"You're insane! You're an insane witch!" Mother screamed, rushing to Richard's side. Her look of concern for the man who had thrown a glass cup towards me made me actually gag.

"I'm insane? Hey Richard, guess where I learned this antic of threatening people with knives? That's right--from your dearly new wife. She probably never told you about the numerous times she threatened her own daughters with a knife, huh?"

"Shut the fuck up! Shut the fuck up!" she squawked, her eyes brimming with panic.

I grinned at that. Good, I was getting on her nerves. Richard said nothing but stare at the knife, at the shattered cup. As if he was assessing the situation like it was someone else's fucking problem.

"It never ceases to amaze me how age is just a number... since obviously I am the most mature one here, I'll excuse myself first, because I don't feel like bleeding anymore today."

With that, I left the house which was worse than hell, not having said another word.

The elevator took forever to get to the ground floor, and the ride up to the penthouse was excruciatingly slow. It had been so long since the last time I had blown up like that--Mother knew just how to get on my nerves to the point I could no longer hold back. But Richard was a new blow. Of course, I had never expected him to be a decent person, but still... Tears brimmed in my eyes, and my vision turned white as I seethed. Why did Mother always have to choose to entangle herself with people who hurt us? Hurt me?

A big motivator for my having agreed to this situation in the first place was for that very reason--I was afraid of Pete, of what he would do to Rose what he had done to me those years ago...

Of all her suitors, Pete was undoubtedly one of the worst. He was a raving lunatic whenever he got drunk, which was often, and he loved to lash out at me for whatever went wrong in his life. Got a crap hand at a lottery ticket? SLAP. Boss yell at him for doing work wrong? PUNCH. Mother fooling around with other guys at her work during those late nights at the bar? WHACK.

I could quite literally never do anything right per his standards, and the only reason he didn't extend his abuse to Rose at the time was because she was his blood, and the one principle he abided by was that "blood is thicker than water." I hate that phrase; it means horseshit. Why is our culture so dedicated to the idea that family equals protection, warmth, love and happiness? That's not universally true. People are just displacing their wants and desires on others because they refuse to live in a world where such cruelty happens on a daily basis.

Instinctively, my palm cupped my jaw, remembering the worst of Pete's tantrums--when he had kicked me in the face and my jaw had been fractured for two weeks. It had been so painful to endure, especially because Mother didn't want to let me to go to the doctor out of shame of what had happened. No, she was perfectly content to let me suffer in pain, so long as no one would blame her of being a terrible parent for failing to prevent this from happening in the first place.

My anger started to boil towards Rosalie now--where was she when that had occurred? She had been out with her friends. When she had returned and seen my face, her face had fallen and she had cried for me, but again what did she really do?

Absolutely nothing.

Why had I protected her this time? Why worry about what Pete, her father, could do--when he had never abused her to begin with? No, it was me who was abused and tortured; yet she never apologized, never told anyone, never went looking for help but utterly ignored me when I needed her for once...

It was hard to differentiate between the good memories with my sister and these memories that continued to haunt me, that I had completely forgotten until I was thrust back into this life. I hated living with them. I hated my family. And then I would feel guilty for thinking that way, for feeling resentment towards Rose when she was just a child at that time...

What about me? I was a child back then, too!

Stop victimizing yourself.

It's true. I've been through so much. Why do I only continue to suffer like this?

There's no good answer for that. If you want to blame anyone, blame God.

There is no God.

Then blame yourself.

Why? Why?

Rather than continue with that conversation in my head, I struggled to drag my ass into the penthouse unit at last--the destination was my bed. If I couldn't muster strength to get that far, then the couch. Hell, the floor would even do, if I could get some peace and quiet so I could think about nothing, nothing at all.

"Rina? Are you home?"

Great. In my current state, I definitely didn't have the capacity to deal with Heath right now.

Heath entered the living room, then his eyes widened when he saw me trying to take my shoes off at the doorway in my current state.

"What's happened to you? You look like shit."

I said nothing. My vision was going blurry, and the tension in my limbs was fading. I couldn't quite gather my surroundings, and eventually I crumpled to the floor--or fell? I couldn't tell. One second I was standing, albeit barely, then the next I wasn't anymore. Facing the black wooden floor, I felt my face fall down, down, until I was swallowed whole by the black hole that had opened up on the ground.

The last thing I heard was Heath shouting my name.

"Rina!"

[livredebelle]

20.5: Forever young

SHALLOW BREATHS SQUEEZED OUT OF MY lungs almost painfully as I fast-walked through the alley, a shortcut to my new home.

'Keep it together. It's okay. You're okay.'

God, I sucked at convincing even myself--I felt like a complete idiot as I desperately tucked a strand of hair behind my ear in an attempt to restore some order into my life.

"He's dead because of you"

My conscience? Or a ghost from my past? I couldn't tell, and my superstitious ass couldn't accept that there might be no real plausible answer.

Nevertheless, my guilt was rising up my throat in the form of bile, and I struggled to keep my breathing and pace even as my chest heaved harder and harder.

If I didn't want to back out of the promise I'd made Maria to attend his funeral this year, I was going to have to stop overthinking it--just ground my teeth and attend. Show up. That was the bare minimum, and I could do that, right? For my friend?

"You were never a friend to him"

My temples throbbing, head pounding, mind spinning--

***

*Two years earlier.*

Another dreary winter had arrived. I chewed on a piece of toast while mindlessly walking on the way to school. It was the month of January, and the falling snow upon my head incurred only bad memories that I wanted to avoid thinking about at all costs. I didn't care if I was late; this was normal for me, so much so that my homeroom teacher no longer commented or even acknowledged me when I trudged into class late everyday. I wasn't late because I had gotten up late or anything; on the contrary, I woke up extra early most days to make myself a packed lunch for the day, or I simply couldn't sleep and would pull an all-nighter. This was the brutal pattern I was used to due to my insomnia. On top of that, I worked part-time as a barista at a nearby coffee shop, while still maintaining life as a student. So I didn't feel too badly regarding the fact that I was a truant; rather, I was grateful that I was still getting decent grades and that the teacher didn't care, because I did want to be able to graduate. But most if not all mornings were extremely difficult. I couldn't bring myself to physically get up. There was an invisible weight on my chest that seemingly was crushing me, and every morning I struggled to get out of bed to start another day. The task always seemed so daunting--nearly impossible. 

How was I still moving forward? I felt like a robot--no, a corpse walking. Did I even have a will anymore? In fact, I barely felt alive.

Like a deadweight was shackled to my ankles. I was always exhausted, but every day I chanted a mantra to help motivate myself. 'It's not so bad,' I would think. 'I'm almost there. I'm gonna graduate and make it big, proving all of them wrong.'

It had been a year and a half since I had moved out--or, to be more specific, ran away from home. After years of torment, I couldn't take it anymore and just dropped everything. Although I had managed to convince myself that this was what was best for everyone, and that I was doing everyone including my family a favor by leaving, the guilt of abandonment wasn't lessened by that fact. I thought of how hurt Rose would be; we had been close, more like friends than siblings, and yet I had left her behind without saying a word, not even a letter to explain the reason why or where I had gone. I figured, the cleaner the break, the easier it would be to move on. It was selfish, but also an act necessary to save my own life, I had reasoned.

It had hurt like hell to do something that was so similar to something my father had done, so many years in the past. I clicked my tongue in agitation at the thought and immediately rejected it. No, that wasn't it; this wasn't the same thing. If I allowed herself to believe that, I'd really have no reason to keep living on... 

"Hey, what are you, deaf? Wait up." 

A great force of a human being named Abel charged into me, nearly toppling my balance and causing me to fall. 

"What the...!" 

"Earth to Irina. We were calling your name from the back to wait, but you kept walking as if you were in a trance. You should really watch where you're going, so you don't accidentally trip. You know how clumsy you are." He beamed: a perfect picture of innocence. Inwardly, this made me cringe; I wasn't used to this type of affection, and wasn't sure how to react to it. Thankfully, I wouldn't have to. 

"Excuse me," commented the girl next to him named Maria, as she blew a bubble into the air with her eyes glued to her phone, probably reading a visual novel. "I did no such thing; you did that on your own. Why do we always have to walk to school together, Abel? You cause too much of a disturbance. From now on, I'm walking on my own; it's too noisy." 

I rolled her eyes in agreement. "She's right. You're always too much, Abel." 

The two were my only close friends--in fact, the only friends I'd made since I'd chosen a life of independence. They were the same way: we had only each other for regular company. Only they knew who I was, and they were the most genuine and supportive friends I could have asked for. The three of us stuck together like glue, and the whole school knew about it. In truth, I was always appreciative to them for sticking by my side through thick and thin, but I was awkward with expressions of love and couldn't express it properly. Or, rather, I wasn't used to receiving love from others, and after years of verbal abuse and trauma from my mother, I had trained myself to automatically repel it and think that I wasn't worthy of it. 

Abel Clemington was a seventeen year-old boy of above-average muscle build, who was lean and roughly the same height as me. His fluffy, wavy hair, cute face, and wide goofy smile, paired with a general friendly personality and a swimmer's body, made him very popular, but contrary to the norm, he wasn't keen on spending much time with anyone other than Maria and myself. Not many others knew, but I knew this was because he was actually quite introverted, and he was extremely shy to the point of being incapable of talking to anyone.

Maria was almost the complete opposite type of Abel, a blatant recluse who gave off a creepy murderous vibe to others due to her gloomy persona and well-known hatred for people. Her hair was always very long and thick because she didn't like to cut it, having once commented that it felt like her "artistic powers were drained when she cut her hair," and so it contributed to her often looking like a young maiden ghost. Her hair was grey-ish silver, and her statute was small and short. She almost looked like a fairy or a doll, if not for her sullen looks. Contrary to her general vibe, her emerald green eyes were entrancing and beautiful, and she too was popular amongst boys--not that she ever gave them the time of day. From where I was standing, Maria only had eyes for Abel.

The three of us were an unlikely match for friendship, but fate had things in store for us a summer ago, when we had been summoned to the counselor's office to schedule our therapy sessions. The summer I turned fifteen, so many things had changed for me by my own hand, and I had been overwhelmed. As a result, my grades had dropped considerably, and I had been summoned to the counselor's office to discuss the impact it might have on my future for going to university. Panicked, I had sat restlessly in the waiting area by reception, twisting my fingers and trying to take steady breaths. If I couldn't go to college, I would never be able to prove my family wrong by becoming a person worthy of something, and neither would I be able to financially support myself. Was my newfound freedom coming to an end so quickly? I sighed in exasperation, afraid that the school was going to catch on to the fact that I didn't have a legal guardian. In a desperate attempt to get enrolled in a good school, I had forged some entry papers, having practiced my mother's signature numerous times before in my childhood when she was either not available or too drunk to do it herself. Had they caught on? Exceedingly growing more nervous as time went by, I started massaging my temples. 

"You've obviously never been in trouble before. Are you new? I don't recognize you." 

The boy next to me started casually talking, causing me to nearly jump out of my seat. I wasn't used to people approaching me and conversing with me out of the blue; I knew I gave off an unfriendly vibe, and I didn't necessarily feel the need to fix it, preferring to be alone anyway. Therefore, I was genuinely surprised. 

"...Yeah. I just moved to this town and transferred here a month ago." 

"Cool. So where are you from? What's your name?" 

"Um." I was growing increasingly uncomfortable with the situation. The boy put his hands up in the air, an easy surrender.

"Sorry. How 'bout I start? My name's Abel. I've lived in this town for as long as I can remember. How 'bout you?"

"...Irina. Nice to meet you," I'd said flatly, then turned my attention elsewhere. There was no point prolonging a conversation that I wasn't interested in. He was supposed to be just like everybody else--indifferent. But he was ever so curious, and kept talking to me, hoping to elicit some kind of reaction. 

I remember trying desperately to understand why anyone, lest of all somebody with such a bright aura illuminating his entire being--so bright I almost wanted to cover my eyes as a reflex--would keep trying. For somebody like me.

A nobody.

At the sound of Abel's continuous one-sided prattle, and my stoic silence, the girl who sat across from the two spoke up in a calm voice. 

"Can you shut the hell up already? I have a migraine. Don't make it worse. If you can't, then get the hell out of my sight." 

It was Maria. Even before that day, I'd heard of her--her Lolita-esque looks that made her quite popular with the boys in school; a wealthy family; and a talent and legacy to fulfill as an art prodigy like her parents, who were famous art collectors and philanthropists. They were loved by the media, the press, the town, the world--because they were wealthy people who were generous and kind enough to care about others less fortunate than them. A true rarity of purity. With such celebrities living in this town, it was impossible to reside here without hearing of the Fernsbys.

Or so it appeared from the outside. In reality, Maria's parents were amongst the most despicable human beings on Earth. Their charities were self-funded, meaning they donated large checks to establishments that seemed like orphanages or government agency properties on the outside and on legal documents, but really, those establishments were owned by the Fernsbys. They were perpetuating a cycle of donating money to themselves, in the end. And Maria was aware of her parents' true nature of wanting to impress others and becoming labelled as "good people," despite the contrary. As a result, she became disillusioned and constantly questioned the meaning of 'good and evil': did such concepts even exist? Suddenly, everything that she was supposed to be proud of sickened her; so much so, that she completely changed into a different person by the time she entered high school. She ceased caring about appearances, letting her long, thick hair cover about half her face, and trying to impress her parents. She excelled in and chose to pursue art, like her detestable parents, but art was the only way she knew how to cope with the disturbing world she had been born into. It was the only way she could make sense of any of it--the only contaminated thing that she couldn't give up. 

"Oops, sorry, you're right. I'm being a disturbance. Jeez, I was basically talking your ear off. Don't mind me; if you don't want to talk anymore, I'll leave it alone." 

Abel settled into the back of his chair, genuinely apologetic. When it should have been me who was sorry.

He was always like that--the first to apologize, even when he'd done nothing wrong. A peacekeeper and an over-sympathizer who would gladly give up his organs for a stranger. I had often made fun of him for it--I remember one time, I had taunted him that if someone ordered him to jump off of a bridge, would he do it?

"Maybe," had been his infuriating response. "That person probably has their own reason for asking me to do such a thing. If they appear desperate enough, I dunno, I might do it."

"You're an idiot!" Maria and I had scoffed at him, but if I had known what would happen to him in the end, I wouldn't have. I would have praised him for having a characteristic so unheard of in this bleak world, and tell him to never change a thing about himself, no matter what happened.

Over that summer, we met once a week at the counselor's office. And while we waited our turn to be berated for circumstances that were out of our control, we talked and laughed about insignificant things--that by no means felt insignificant to me. My heart treasured those times with them, because it was the only time I could be myself without facing criticism, without being told that I had to change if I wanted to become better.

Then one hot summer day, during another pointless session, my counselor confronted me with the fact that I would have to leave the school if I didn't get my guardian's permission.

"I'm not sure I understand--"

"Look, your mother called the principal this afternoon and made it clear that you aren't living with her at the moment, and that she would prefer if you were back home. Now I understand that you want to attend our school, but without your parent's consent we can't turn a blind eye to a minor living by herself when we know it's illegal."

I had stepped out of the office, my fury rendering my nerves numb. Why did Mother always have to ruin everything for me? Just when it was getting good too--

"...I'm at my wit's end." 

Abel looked alarmingly at me, only to find that my shoulders were trembling slightly, as if I was afraid. 

"I don't know if what I'm doing is the right thing. I can't help but feel like I made a mistake. Was it wrong for me to choose myself, to start a new life? Do I have that kind of right...?"

I wasn't sure what came over me--maybe it was because my anxiety had peaked, but I could hold it back no longer. I didn't really mean to bother my only friends with her problems and scare them away, but I really was desperate, clinging to a last strand of hope. 

What I thought would be a solution to my horrible life might end up amounting to nothing. When I thought that, my lungs felt as heavy as if they were filled with lead. My vision was getting blurry and my heart leapt into my throat; I was panicking. Again. In broad daylight, in front of other people. This was the worst. 

Witnessing my panic attack triggered a response. Abel instinctively shrugged out of his jacket and put it over my head to shield me from my embarrassment and to let me cry in private. Maria walked over to where we were sitting, and she placed her hand on my head and patted it. 

"It's okay," she said soothingly. "Breathe. You have the right to feel however you want. There's absolutely nothing wrong with choosing yourself."

Too stunned for a couple of seconds, my shallow breaths turning into hiccups as I struggled for air amidst my panic attack. It was as if I had been acknowledged for the first time in my life as who I really was. I had been granted permission to cry and blame the world. At that realization, I openly wept, genuinely comforted by their kindness: Abel, who was wordlessly protecting my dignity; and Maria, who understood my suffering on a level almost no one else could probably understand. 

As the panic seceded, my breathing returned to normal. After this day, I would gain the two most valuable people in my life--only to have one of them snatched away from me so soon, as if God was punishing me for my sins.

***

As the voices in my head screamed even louder, I finally reached my destination. But to get to the elevator, I'd have to pass by the front door of the unit where Mother, Richard and Rose lived. I was agitated, and I didn't want to run the risk of them seeing me have another... episode like this. Especially when I was criticized so harshly for it in the past.

I was still musing over my limited options when my fears to fathom came true.

"Hello, dearest."

[livredebelle]

Twenty.

TRY AS I MIGHT, IT WAS IMPOSSIBLE TO NOT OBSESS over Heath and his dark promises. During class, even though I kept forcing myself to try and listen to the professor and take notes, I would find myself wondering about what his mouth would feel like on my neck, my arms, my collarbone...

'What is the matter with me?! Ugh, I need to hurry up and get laid.'

Maybe it was because I hadn't had any romantic interests in a while (other than Quinn, but considering how short-lived that was I refused to consider it as such), but I was positive that the extent of my feelings was that my hormones were spinning out of control because I was horny. There was no other rational explanation for it, and I would accept none other regardless.

It didn't help that I was living in the same abode as the guy who was driving my hormones insanely wild in the first place.

That was it--I was going to have to put my foot down with Mother, and tell her that this arrangement was not going to work. Sure, I knew she wanted to keep him as a son-in-law candidate, but did she really want to risk me losing whatever... sense of purity I had left within me?

I cringed involuntarily. Never mind--the thought alone of having this kind of conversation with Mother made me squirm in my seat. She had never given me the sex ed talk before, so I had a hard time imagining how she'd react to my... inexperience with these matters.

Who could I even talk to, then? My sister?

No--that was probably worse! She was three years younger than me, for God's sake. How embarrassing it would be for the older sister to ask the younger about sex!

"Bah, this isn't any good, I'm driving myself mad like this."

"Excuse me, Miss Everly? Did you have something you'd like to say to the rest of the class?"

The professor, an older man in his fifties, crossed his arms and tapped his webbed foot impatiently. Oh hell, I'd done it again. I had a horrible habit of talking out loud to myself; it was a way of dealing with things I suppose? It didn't make sense to anyone, least of all me, and I usually failed to notice I'd done it unless someone pointed it out to me. Like now.

"Um... I'm so sorry, Professor. I guess I was sleep-talking or something..."

I stared down at my feet. God, my excuse sounded worse than the truth, didn't it? He was going to hate me and give mean F in the class, surely.

Surprisingly, the professor chose to ignore my shit of an excuse and instead opted to sigh dramatically before continuing with his lecture. I could tell just by looking at his face that he was hating his job right about now, and I felt bad about it, but what was done was done.

I texted Maria in my panicked horror because I had no one else I could think of to talk to.

[Oh my God, today just keeps getting worse and worse. Do you want to meet up and smoke some hookah later or something? I need to release some stress.]

[Sure. We needed to talk anyways.]

I raised my eyebrows in confusion. Huh--what could she be talking about? My curiosity piqued, I started typing a response but spotted the professor glaring at my blatant disregard for lecture. Embarrassed even further, I shoved my phone in my bag and tried to avert his eyes to the best of my ability.

I was grateful when class ended. I practically jumped from my seat, dying to escape the class. I had also noticed that one of the groupies from the bathroom incident earlier were in this class too, and I was hoping desperately that she hadn't noticed my presence the way I had hers. Not that I was scared of her or anything, but I didn't want to deal with more drama. At least, not today.

Come on, come on, let me get outta here unscathed...

I made it out as far as to the school gate when I heard a familiar, yet neither welcome nor unwelcome, voice.

"Hey, sis, I was hoping to run into you here!"

Rosalie smiled brightly, the way she always did--so prettily and daintily that I thought she was mocking me for a second. So typical of my evil brain to think that way. I blinked, as if doing so would undo the apparition before me.

"Hey, Rose. Uh--how did you know to find me here?"

"What? Silly, you sent me a screenshot of your schedule a long time ago. It's so like you to forget, but that makes sense because you're so busy." She kept smiling. "I was attending a dance rehearsal nearby, and I thought it would be nice to go grab a bite or something together. That is, if you weren't in a hurry or anything?"

I was at a crossroads--I wanted nothing more than to hurry home and take a hot shower, drink a warm chai latte, and scurry my ass off to bed for a nap. My favorite post-school routine. But Rose's face was so hopeful that I couldn't find the words to reject her offer.

"... Sure, Rose. Do you think we could make it quick, though? I do have homework to get done tonight." Not a lie, and boy was there a lot of homework. It was nothing compared to high school; welcome to the adult world, baby.

***

"Oh my God, I love taro lattes too. We're so alike it's crazy! Isn't it?"

I smiled, albeit wistfully, trying to stop my eyes from darting to the clock. We were at a cute little boba shop nearby campus, a popular hangout spot and possibly the last place on Earth that I wanted to be. But Rosalie wanted to try coming here, and I didn't have a particular preference anyway.

"How do you like the place? Worth the hype?"

"Sure! I just love that I'm here with you hanging out. It's crazy to think that this is possible now; I used to think the day would never come..."

Her voice trailed off, and she bit her lip. I averted my gaze as usual and pretended I didn't notice the awkward vibe that was going between us now. Of course I had apologized to her already for leaving her behind when I ran away at fifteen years-old, and we had made up, but some things would never feel quite the same as they once had. I knew Rose was trying hard to overcome it, but for me I wasn't sure that I would ever be able to overcome my guilt.

The worst part was, it wasn't either of our faults--the cards in our lives had been stacked against us, and in our circumstances there hadn't been much that could be done. Perhaps if we hadn't been born into an impoverished family, or an abusive one for that matter. But we couldn't change the way things were, and emotional intimacy was something I found unfathomable.

Could Rose feel any different? She had always been the polar opposite of me, so maybe she wasn't as traumatized or fragile as I was...

"Earth to Irina!"

"Oh... sorry. I'm just tired, I guess, from classes. You know how I've always had a low stamina."

"Oh no! Should we mention it to Mother, so she can get you some supplements perhaps? Mother is very good at taking care of things like that."

That's what it was--what unsettled me the most about her. Rose and I had gone through all kinds of crap together, and we had used to confide in each other, which usually meant that we vented about Mother. But ever since we had been reunited, Rose would hardly say anything bad about her, and when I made a comment of the sort she would pretend she hadn't heard me. I had thought it was in my head, but now I knew for sure.

It made me wary, to say the least. Like I couldn't trust my sister--my own flesh and blood.

I was officially the worst.

"No no, don't say anything. I wouldn't want to make her worry needlessly like that. No, I just need some rest--which I can get tonight."

"Okay, if you insist..."

Again, awkward silence. Ugh, this was unbearable.

"Do you have any boy interests at the moment?" I blurted out, the first thing that popped into my head. Also the worst thing I could have chosen as a conversation topic, as I had almost zero experience with it. So chances were likely that this conversation was bound to be a short one too.

She looked startled at my unexpected question. "I--er--no, not really. I don't suppose I have the time for such things; my schedule is way too busy. Plus, Mother would be upset with me if I chose to waste my time on such trivial matters."

"What? Rose, you're sixteen. At your age, I doubt anyone would think of this as trivial."

"Well, you know Mother--she's always raised us to be independent women and get successful jobs by ourselves. She's said time and time again that my only worth is dancing, so I must give it everything I've got until I can't dance anymore..."

"That's rich, coming from her," I snorted. But then I caught her eye and she gave me a weak smile, not saying anything in response to my insult.

It irked me. I decided to push a bit harder this time.

"I mean, think about it," I said casually but carefully. "She's the least independent person--she's gotten married so many times based off of superficial trysts and affairs. Don't you think it's hypocritical of her--even a little bit--to suggest you do what she herself freely indulged in?"

Rose wrung her hands and looked out the window. "I dunno, I always felt bad for Mother, I guess. She didn't deserve all the bad treatment from the bad men who came across her path in life. It isn't nice to victim-blame, now is it?"

"You think of her as a victim?" I could hardly believe my ears.

"Why wouldn't I?" Her puzzled look baffled me further. It almost made me doubt whether we had lived through the same childhood--I went through a full minute gaslighting myself before recomposing myself.

"I think there's a fine line between being a true victim and bringing trouble to yourself. I think Mother liked the attention, so she kept pursuing men who liked to take advantage of her. And she knew they were doing it, but she couldn't do a thing because that's the type of person she is. She'd already taken advantage of them first, so what defense would she have?"

Rosalie sighed. "Can we just agree to disagree and move on from this?"

"..."

I didn't want to concede, so I sipped my taro latte loudly instead, trying not to obsess over the fact that my own little sister didn't have my back. It made her feel more like a stranger than ever.

"I don't want to keep myself beholden to the past. I want us to be a happy family again, Irina. Mother's doing her best to give us a better future, and I'm going to try my hardest to please her because I want her to keep her promises to me."

"What promises--"

"Anyway, it's about time I head back to rehearsal," she said, standing up from her seat abruptly. "It was nice to grab some boba with you during your break, sis. I'll talk to you later?"

And before I could say another word, she was out the door and gone, almost fleeing from our conversation.

***

"Isn't that just too fucking weird? She's up to something. Mother, I mean."

As we had arranged, Maria and I were sitting in our own booth at a dimly lit, dusty hookah lounge in her city, far away from anyone I knew. I was venting to Maria, the one person who knew the messy nature of my family relationships.

Maria and I had been together since high school, and as my lone childhood friend, she had the misfortune of knowing every dark secret in my private family life. All those times I showed up with a fresh bruise or wound on my face, Maria was the only one who knew the true reason behind them while I would lie to the school and blame it on my clumsiness. Yet she didn't pity me or anything like that. She listened when I had a story to tell, and she offered me rational advice afterward, and would even shelter me when the need arose. Truly, one of a kind.

"Could be, but what's the point worrying about it?" She let out a big whoosh of scented air into my face, and I stuck my tongue out at her. "I wouldn't worry about anything that hasn't happened yet."

"I can't stay calm if I know that she's plotting something behind my back. I thought it was weird ever since she forced me to move into that penthouse unit with Heath. And now, if Rose is in it too somehow, if Mother's plan is to ruin us both for her gain--"

"You really think she'd go that far?"

"Yes." I had zero faith in my mother--she had never given me a reason to change that.

At least, none were good enough.

"If that's the case, then you should probably try and get Rose to tell you what it is. In the meantime, I have something to tell you, too."

Right, she'd said as much in her text. My curiosity was even greater now. "What is it?"

"It's coming up. Abel's death anniversary."

"... Ah."

So that's what it was: Maria wanted to know whether I was going to run away again this year.

Run away from facing the truth...

... that my other childhood best friend was really dead.

"His family... they're going to do a walk in remembrance of him at the old school. I wouldn't blame you if you chose to sit out on that part. But I think at least for the wake... you should be there this year."

"It's not so simple, Maria, you know that."

"True, but that can't stop you from visiting him forever. He's waiting for us. I can feel it."

"Not fair for you to guilt trip me like that."

"I'm not trying to. Look... don't you think it's been too long already? Besides, I know you've been hating yourself for it all this time. Shouldn't you let it go now?"

There was definitely truth to those words. I had been thinking for awhile now that I needed to change, that I needed to apologize for acting like a bystander when I wasn't the only one in pain. I wanted to be someone different than who I was, but nobody changes like that overnight.

I cleared my throat. "It's not so simple. You know that his family hates me. I'd make it worse for everyone to show up there without being invited..."

"I think this time, it's different. Here--" Maria took something out of her purse and put it on the table before us. It was a business card, and when I saw the name on the card I winced a little. "I think Adeline wanted you to make the first contact so as not to burden you by reaching out first. Why don't you just try calling her... see what she wants. This could be seen as something akin to an invite."

"... Okay."

Adeline wanted to talk to me? And she had gone seeking Maria to do that? Or was it that they had been keeping in regular contact this whole time, talking about me?

My paranoia heightening, I took the business card and put it in my bag, folding it. I'd have to face my demons eventually, whether I liked it or not. I had to stop behaving like a child.

I cleaned the hookah mouthpiece and took a drag of the strawberry-flavored haze. Maria scanned my face with her deadpan green eyes, but she otherwise said nothing further, probably not wanting to pressure me too much.

I knew what she wanted from me, though--that was loud and clear. She had needed me this whole time, for the past two years. It was only right that I accompany her to face him. Together.

Like we should've always been.

Not like anything would change from the sole act of me being active for once...

No. I couldn't let myself fall into this deep pit of despair again. I shook my head as if to dispel the illusion.

"I'll call her. Was there anything else you wanted to discuss?"

"Shit, this isn't a business meeting, Irina."

"I'm just making sure. I know it's been harder to keep in touch after you moved and we became two cities apart, so I want to prioritize our communication."

She raised her eyebrows. "You know, you're starting to sound more and more robotic over the years. Almost like a therapist. Maybe yours inspired you too much."

I smiled faintly, choosing not to respond to that. If she only knew. I had been through so many therapists over my childhood--there was nothing I hadn't heard before. I had gotten so good at feeding that crap back to them, my latest therapist had released me from her hold with a blessing.

"You're so grown up now! Honestly, Ms. Everly, the character development you've shown me over our sessions has been quite impressive. I daresay you don't need me anymore; there's nothing left to teach you. Rather, would you mind filling out a five-minute survey regarding our behavioral therapy services at the clinic?"

It had been so funny, because I had just gotten so good at hiding my pain that even professionals couldn't tell a lie from the truth.

My latest therapist, Mabel, had been assigned to me after Abel's passing. 'To help me come to terms with reality,' the school principal had said. The entire school knew that Abel, Maria, and I had been an close--an inseparable trio. The principal didn't want to risk incurring any liability in case either Maria or I would choose to sue them for not doing enough to protect the mental and emotional stability of their students.

Mabel had been a bullshit therapist, though, hired to help with the school's PR after Abel's tragic death on campus...

Again, my mind was drifting. I refused to space out like this--not here, not now. If I did, the risk of me crumbling to dust before Maria's very eyes was high.

"I should get going soon," I said evenly, hoping I wasn't coming off as cross in an attempt to keep myself calm. "I have a shit ton of homework piling up since it's the end of the semester. Thanks for inviting me out today, though."

Not looking convinced, Maria nodded, handing me the hookah one last time. "Take it easy; you work too much and far too hard. Also, talk to your sister--it sounds like you guys have a lot to smooth out, and that will obviously take some time."

The irony of the situation not lost on me, I took a deep drag then stood, shooting my friend one helluva convincing smile.

[livredebelle]

Act II: Nineteen: New seasons

FALL/WINTER.

IT WAS A WINDY NOVEMBER MORNING, AND WEATHER-WISE everything was perfect. I stared up at the sky in wonder. Had so much time really already passed? Once school had started, the months had flown without my consent or awareness. Having no time for anything but my studies, I delved into the life of a full-time university student. I had quit my barista job, because working with Johnny after knowing my mom was controlling him would feel too strange, to say the least. I was getting allowance--or "trust fund money," as my mother called it--from my new rich stepfather anyway, so it wasn't like I actually needed a job.

Stepfather. I shuddered for some odd reason. Over the past few months, my mother had gotten very lovey-dovey, and it felt so wrong to have to witness it--especially during meals. Richard had arranged one mandatory dinner together as a family per month, and so far they had been nothing but painful--like, physically painful--as I was forced to watch my mother gush at him with round eyes and butter him up, while Richard remained stoic and deadly silent. Why didn't he stop it? I didn't understand the man. 

Rosalie, oblivious to it all, would chirp through the meal and ask me 100 questions about what I had been doing the past few years in my independence. At first I thought, Of course she wants to know. I'd be curious, too! But then it became excessive. Had she always been this nosy? I still loved her, of course, but I was beginning to remember why I frequently wished when I was younger to have been an only child. 

Thankfully, with the fall semester coming to wraps in a couple of weeks, I had a legitimate excuse to not attend those mandatory dinners. I spent most nights in the library at the penthouse studying. If I wasn't studying, I liked to read, mainly classical romance--or horror, depending on my mood--novels, as well as books about ancient mythology. I was well-suited for the solitary life. 

Just one teensy problem: I wasn't living a solitary life. 

After the initial shocking encounter with Heath--a very close call--I had confronted Mother about it, furious, but she couldn't understand why. 

"What's the matter with that? You two get along alright, don't you? Just think of it as having a roommate. That young man's been living in the penthouse floor ever since Richard hired him as his assistant, so it would be unfair to kick him out now, don't you think?"

"Surely you don't think this is appropriate?! I mean--" I stammered. Did I have to make it that obvious for her to understand?

"Dearie, there's no problem with that. Mother will simply think of it as... a double-guarantee that we have some kind of small fortune in the future, worst case scenario."

She'd winked, and I remember feeling sick to my stomach. So this had been her plan all along. Either way, through her marriage or through me, she was going to become rich via this company.

"Rest assured, child, if he steps out of line of course we'll intervene. But if nothing has happened, it seems silly to make a problem out of something out of nothing, especially before it's even known to happen, now wouldn't it?"

And that was that.

Obviously, I didn't have a say in it. And I had already moved in and made the change, so it was too late now. I had looked into whether my old apartment was still available, and indeed it was not. 

'If Quinn and I had still been friends, I could've probably moved in with him...' 

I shoved away the thought. What was even the point of wondering what could have been? It was all in the past now. 

Whenever I ran into Quinn at school, it was always extremely awkward, at least for me. It happened more often than I had hoped; both of us being coffee enthusiasts, I often ran into him at the Starbucks near campus, or even in the hallways as we were in the same department (Humanities)--he was majoring in Philosophy, while I was majoring in Literature. My reaction whenever this happened was always the same: I would duck my head down, stare hard at the floor as if I was sorely interested in the tile patterns, and walk away as fast as I could in a hopefully not-too-obvious manner. 

I couldn't help it. I knew it was cowardly, but I didn't have the guts to face him or his wrath. Since our friendship was clearly over anyway, did it even matter? In fact, I thought it would naturally be that way. 

I just thanked the Lord that at least we weren't in the same classes as each other. With him one year above me, I was sure it would never happen. 

However, Quinn wasn't the only one I was trying desperately to run away from.

I had another problem, and his name was Heath. 

He was much more persistent, and whenever we made eye contact on campus, he would start beaming and head over to me, calling me by name in a rather loud voice. Flustered, I'd run away, but it wasn't long before we became the topic of gossip in our department. Since my major consisted of only a small number of students, they were close-knit and liked to pick on gossip prey. I rolled my eyes whenever I saw them. They were like a flock of pigeons, waiting for some delicious bread crumbs to be hurled their way. Truly, like those birds, they were brainless, too. The girls in particular were jealous of the attention I was getting from Heath, the "hot" TA of our Classics class. Lucky me.

Nevertheless, although I hated being the center of attention, I couldn't help but wonder what Heath made of it. Wouldn't it be a problem if he--as a faculty member of the school--got romantically involved with a student, by insinuation or otherwise?

Some of the undergraduate girls in his classes got the same idea, apparently, because one day I found myself cornered in the bathroom by a couple of them.

One had bushy, curly red hair--looking like a raggedy-ass Ronald McDonald--

"Hey, I've been hearing some things."

The girl next to her with glowing, golden skin kicked the nearby trash can with her combat boots, probably in an effort to intimidate me. But I stood my ground, keeping my chin high.

"'Sup?"

"I'm not done talking, you slut. I was saying, I've been hearing that you've been quite the social butterfly. Everybody seems to be talking about you."

"I fail to see how that's my problem."

"Oh, but it is. You see, there's sort of this unspoken rule here--things run differently, and you can't just waltz in here and steal someone else's prey. Otherwise you'll get thrashed."

I guffawed. Seriously--that was the best she could come up with? What were we, back in kindergarten?

"Are you laughing, you dumb bitch?"

"Aw, c'mon, Ronald!" I sighed dramatically, wiping a tear from my eye in an effort to antagonize her. It worked; I saw her buggy eyes get wider as I clicked my tongue. "You're not seriously about to tell me that you called dibs on our TA, and you want me to keep my claws off of him?"

"What did you--"

"I mean, I just can't do this. I mean, no offense, but I am physically incapable of dealing with people I have zero respect for. You can't even deal with your own ego contests by yourself."

The girl with the combat boots loomed over me. "Are you done talking, or can we start 'thrashing' you now, as you so delicately put it?"

Before I could blink, her hand was flying across my face, and I fell to the floor by the sheer force of it. It didn't hurt, just stung, yet I couldn't fight back with my weak ass body. I had always been born fragile. I could do nothing but try to shield myself while the group of four or five hovered over me and began stomping on me with their feet. All I could think was, thank goodness they weren't wearing heels.

I was aiming for an opportunity to bite someone's leg when a better idea crossed my head.

"Eeeeeek!"

One of the groupies screamed as I quickly whipped out my lighter in an effort to burn her leg that was hovering over my face. I didn't care what consequences might befall me--I had to protect myself, so it would be considered self-defense. I knew that, but they probably didn't.

"What the fuck! This bitch is crazy!"

I smirked at the comment.

They had no idea.

"Let's get outta here. People are starting to gather around the commotion."

The group started to disperse, leaving me on the ground. I breathed out a heavy sigh of relief, which faded just as soon as it came. The voice had been right; a crowd of strangers were blocking the entrance to the bathroom, and I had no way out without revealing my face. In other words, I wouldn't be able to avoid becoming a spectacle and the subject of idle gossip.

"Shit," I muttered in frustration. This was very much not what I needed--I was more than content being a loner, but I didn't want this kind of negative attention more than anything.

The thought of becoming a source of everyone's vain entertainment had my nerves spike to a whole new level.

"All right, everybody, let's get back to your usual business and to class. What are you guys all camping outside of the ladies' bathroom for? This is super weird, if I must say."

A familiar voice. My roommate. Immediately, a wave of relief washed over my body; but once I realized what was happening, my sense of ease vanished.

Why would Heath's voice make me relieved? We still barely knew each other or talked despite living together, despite the one-sided flirting on his part. I had no reason to believe he was on my side--I should know better and be careful, I chided myself.

"I'd be an idiot to trust him," I mumbled out loud, but I couldn't deny that he was doing me a huge favor right now with his TA authority to shoo people away. Whether he knew he was doing me a favor, I didn't know--but I also didn't care. I just wanted to leave the shitty scene already and get back to class myself to make good on my tuition.

I strained my ears but heard nothing. Convinced, I slowly crept up to the entrance door--

--and ran head smack into Heath's chest.

Eyes widening, he asked, "What are you doing here, Irina?" I could feel my face turning hot with humiliation.

As if he didn't know! He had to know and was making a fool out of me.

I shoved away at his chest and tried to move past him without a response, but he continued to block the way.

"I heard there was a... disturbance of sorts in the women's bathroom, but I didn't expect to see you here. Did anything happen? Are you hurt?" He sounded angry as he said the last part.

"Why do you care? Oh, if you're asking as a teacher, don't worry--I'm not gonna press charges against the school, or make a big deal about it or anything. I'll be quiet, so hey, no worries."

"What?"

"That's how things are usually handled, right?" I said coolly. God, I knew that my anger was being misdirected, but I felt so mortified to be in this situation that I didn't care what I said. I'd say whatever venom I had to in order to run away.

"Look, I have no fucking idea what you're talking about." Heath's voice matched my tone, and I shivered unwillingly. "If you don't feel like telling me, then fine, that's your prerogative. But I'm not your punch bag, Rina. If you keep treating me this unfairly, I'll have no choice but to punish you."

His voice fell to a low octave, almost as if he was purring. For a second I froze, unable to decipher what the hell was happening. But it was just another one of his ploys.

I couldn't explain the tingle that ran through my body, my veins, my blood at the insinuation in the last sentence. It almost made me whimper as I dared to imagine, for a moment of insanity, what kind of things he could do to me as punishment in the bedroom.

But as quickly as the bout of nonsense had come, I jolted out of it, too much of a seasoned warrior.

No. No. I won't. I won't fall for his tricks.

"Don't make me sick," I hissed instead, hoping he didn't catch how my voice nearly wavered at the end. I successfully pushed him to the side and nearly sprinted away from him to clear my head.

This guy was like a poison fog slowly seeping into my brain. Dangerous and lethal.

I had a gene for addiction and I knew it. I also knew I couldn't afford it--physically, mentally, emotionally and even spiritually--to fall under his spell.

Get your fucking shit together, Irina. You didn't go through hell and worse just for all your efforts to go to waste on a guy of all things.

Taking a deep breath, I strode off to my next class.

[livredebelle]

Eighteen: The memory of the blue anemone, part 2

***

The blue anemone had become a symbol of hope for me, a shred of naivete my childhood self had preserved in order to keep living and moving forward. Even though I told myself countless times as I grew older and older to not have hope, it persisted somewhere deep inside my ashen heart, just barely existing. 

The day it completely shriveled up was the day I decided to abandon everything. 

I was fifteen, and Rose had just turned thirteen. We were doing chores and doing homework on a school night like any other day; Mother hadn't been home in weeks, which wasn't unusual. She would often disappear like this after having an emotional outburst, but eventually she'd come crawling back to this tiny ass dingy apartment we called home. Sometimes, I wished she wouldn't return; as horrible as it was, I had become such an awful person already by this point that I didn't feel the slightest bit of remorse for being a child who wished her mother would disappear. 

This would also come to be the day I lost all salvation and doomed myself eternally to Hell.

As I'd anticipated, Mother drudged in late that night around 3 AM. Because she was so loud, stumbling in the entrance and cursing wildly, Rose and I instantly woke up. I felt Rose get out of bed to help Mother, while I didn't bother. It would be easier to pretend to be asleep. 

"Where's my--oh, there's one! Where's the other brat? Useless as a-always."

Mother was slurring, obviously drunk. I felt my rage build as I took a deep breath and closed my eyes in an effort to fall asleep and make this nightmare before me disappear. 

"I said, get the fuck over here now, Rina! Rose is here, so why aren't you?! I need help, goddammit!"

I could ignore her, but what good would it ultimately do? She'd just keep screeching like a seagull.

I reluctantly got up from bed and went over to the entrance. It was quite the shit show, yet again: despite being an adult, my mother couldn't get her shit together for two seconds to get a grip on her life. I didn't even expect her to be a decent parent at this point; I just wanted her to leave us the fuck alone. She must've read the contempt in my eyes, for something unsettled her; or it could be that it was always like this. Regardless the reason, she angrily shrieked, "What the hell are you looking at? You good-for-nothing kid. I wish I hadn't given birth to the likes of you; you're no help to me at all. I wish you had died in my womb back then."

"Is that supposed to hurt me?" My voice was deadly silent, but I knew I was enunciating my words clearly. "What are you doing to yourself? Take a good look in the mirror. This isn't what a middle-aged woman should be behaving like. Can't you see you're destroying yourself?"

"What the fuck do you care about my wellbeing? I'd be perfectly fine if you were dead...! You--you especially, Rina. You look like him so much, it makes me want to gouge my eyes out. Why do you look at me with those same resentful eyes? Why?!" 

"Mother, please calm down! The neighbors will rally to have us evicted again..." Rose looked terrified as she put herself deliberately in between us. She was right, but I had a hard time controlling my temper. My rage flared higher, and venomous words came spilling out of my mouth without warning. 

"Stop blaming everyone else for your problems. The problem is you, Mother. You're so weak. You disgust me."

And then I sealed my fate:

"Honestly, you should just go ahead and kill yourself." 

As I stared down at her slumped figure by the doorway, I felt no remorse. To this day, I can't recall what her face expression looked like then. It had felt so liberating to say those words; I regretted nothing at the moment. Rose's horrified expression would continue to haunt me in my dreams for time to come. She was looking at me like she was looking at a monster. And of course, she was right. Mother slapped me for revenge, but I felt nothing. I had become so accustomed to the pain that I was immune--or rather, numb--to it. I was frozen in time. I was frozen in my hidden imaginative world filled with blue anemones. 

I wondered why those pale blue, fragile flowers comforted me so. Was it the hue of the color? Or did the scenery not matter so much as the solace and escape I could find in that place--away from the real world? Most importantly, I suppose, it belonged to me. It was where no one could find me or hurt me, and I was content with that, I thought. 

That fateful melancholy night, undoubtedly driven to despair by my words, my mother attempted suicide by swallowing an entire capsule of sleeping pills. 

That fateful melancholy night, my blue anemone field withered away. 

***

The sound of sobbing. The blue and red lights shining all around us, blinding us. The muffled speaking. The world draining of color into a morose grey, and I couldn't hear or see anything, as if I were trapped in a bubble deep underwater in the darkest, bottomless pits of the seas. 

'What have I done...?'

I struggled with my chaotic emotions, which were wildly out of control that night. On the outside, appearance-wise, I may have betrayed no expression, but everything inside me was breaking. I was mortified, devastated, and unsure. I constantly had to try and stifle bile that had built up my stomach. As the police gathered around to ask questions, I stared blankly at them, unable to form the correct words. To verbalize what had happened would make it appear all too real. 

Someone, please save me from this drowning pit of misery--

It felt as though my lungs were on fire, my head was breaking, and my voice was gone. My heart despaired and refused to deal with the facts, leaving me an empty shell of a person. I felt as though I was sinking in quicksand, or a pit of tar, to be exact; nevertheless, I was sinking. My heart was screaming; my brain was dead; my soul was bereft of life... I was trapped in the void. The darkness had completely taken over me. There would be no pretty flower field to soothe me because of what I'd done this time. 

Was this the outcome I had hoped for? Had God decided to rain down my punishment for being a disobedient child, or was it that I was getting my dreadful wish--of my mother disappearing--fulfilled? 

I can't take this anymore--

If so, what kind of sick God was this. No, wait, did I even believe in God? Either way, it wasn't His fault. I was damned from the beginning. Did I believe in mercy, or salvation, or any of the good things that the church preached about that could qualify as redemption for a lost soul? 

At the very least, I knew I believed I could not be saved. My sin was too great. No matter what, I couldn't deny the truth that I had pushed someone to the brink of death, and I hadn't felt a goddamn thing while I had done it. I was turning into a monster like her before my very eyes. I wanted to scratch my eyes out so I would no longer have to see my reflection whenever I passed by a mirror. I wanted my heart to cease beating so I would cease to feel. I wanted to be nothing. As such, I forever launched myself into a hateful cycle of self-loathing, depression, panic and fear of condemnation. 

In reality, where time had laughingly refused to stop still, the situation was 'resolved' within a blur. Mother survived the act--while at the hospital, a nurse had indifferently explained to me in rushed, hushed tones that they had pumped her stomach and she had thrown up most of the pills she had ingested, which was good. She would need to remain hospitalized for several days due to the effects of alcohol poisoning--she had been drunk when she took the pills--so we would have to wait for her to be discharged. Was there an adult she could talk to, she asked inhumanely, regarding the matter of the hospital bills that were yet unpaid? It was evident that she didn't believe we could afford the hospital's services, and upon receiving no answer from me, the nurse walked away, leaving me to wallow in my misery. Indeed, who would pay the bills? In this world and society where you could not live if you didn't have money, what could a dirt-poor fifteen year-old possibly do? The answer was nothing. The world was cruel: if you didn't have money, status or power, then people would leave you alone to die. My stomach was in knots, and I had difficulty breathing. Everything--the blame, the responsibility--would be forced upon me to deal with on my own. I couldn't take it. I didn't want to be abandoned again, this time by the whole world. 

In turn, I decided I would rather do the abandoning before becoming abandoned yet again.

[livredebelle]

Seventeen: The memory of the blue anemone (part 1)

WHEN I WAS A CHILD, I OFTEN DREAMT OF sleeping in a flower patch flooded with blue anemones--blue, because blue was my favorite color then and now. The flowers were beautiful and probably my favorite type in the world. It was a lonely and sad dream; there was never any other soul present, and I found myself back in the same blue field whenever I felt depressed or lonely growing up, which was pretty frequent. Even now, when I close my eyes I can so vividly see the scenery that relaxes me--yet, paradoxically, makes me a bit anxious at the same time, for deep in my heart I knew that I only had this specific dream whenever I was troubled with my thoughts and feelings. This was my escape fantasy world whenever I didn't want to deal with whatever was happening in real life. 

When did this bad habit of escapism start?

The day I shed my naïveté and fully recognized the craziness of my family, I felt was the first time I was seeing things clearly. Up until that day, I never thought I had a harder life than others--just different, up until a certain point and age.

For example, on those occasions whenever Pete had lost his temper and marked my face, I had thought that I had perhaps deserved it; that it was natural for a parent to discipline his or her child, no matter how harsh the punishment. I hadn't questioned it, because it was far less worse than the verbal abuse Mother resorted to, which made my heart feel so hollow that I would wonder if I even had one. Believing that her children were the bane of her existence, she constantly found ways to criticize and belittle my own. Struggling to find jobs and tired of rejections from film executives and romance partners alike, she could find no source of happiness and found that it was easier to blame her failures on others, namely us. 

"Those goddamn geezers," she had cried out one morning, when I was in the fourth grade, as she poured herself a cup of coffee and mixed it with her favorite bourbon. "They'll regret casting me aside this time. Who the hell do they think I am?! I'm Melanie Everly! I used to make big bucks for their film company back in the day, and now they change their mind because I'm not a stable source of investment? What the hell is that supposed to mean?" She stared down hard at me as I continued to calmly eat my cereal. "God... could you chew any louder? Really. I can't stand you, even though you are my child."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry--that's all you ever fucking say. Don't you have a bigger vocabulary than that? But then again, maybe I shouldn't have expected anything from that man's child. Like father, like fucking daughter, annoying as shit." 

Truthfully, I didn't remember much about my birth father because he'd left us when I was far too young to understand its implications, so her comparison didn't sting too much. The timeline was a little foggy, because whenever I had questions about him Mother became so livid that I dared not to speak his name across my lips. He wasn't allowed to exist, and if we ever spoke of him it was when she wanted to lash out at the unfairness of her life and complain her ass off. 

I wondered if He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named knew what kind of life he had left behind--or escaped. Either way, I didn't care because I resented him. How could I not? He was the source of all my problems; the reason Mother became so unhappy and fucked up in the head, the reason I had to endure all this crap, because he was too much of a coward to deal with them himself. 

Lying down in the blue anemone field, I would wish that this were my reality instead. Reality was too painful. The constant ridicule and rebuke I had to endure had become too much. I began to question everything about myself, and every morning the first thought that crossed my mind was that it would have been convenient if I had simply not awoken again. How selfish of a request, to die comfortably in your sleep. That was probably an honor reserved for the best human beings on the planet, on the other side of the spectrum far from the damned, including me. 

"Mama," I mumbled hesitantly, "the teacher said we need to bring twenty dollars for our field trip fee by next week..."

"What? Don't talk nonsense; you're not going on some unsupervised trip. Twenty dollars? They're trying to rip kids off now! Unbelievable. You're staying home, and that's final."

"Okay."

"Where is your report card? Shouldn't it have come out by now?"

"Yes. I have it here for you to sign..." 

She snatched it from my hands as soon as I took it out of my backpack. She eyed it meticulously, then signed it and put it back down on the table. "Good. I expect nothing less than As, you understand? Keep it up and don't you dare slack off. Rosalie! Where's yours?"

Rose flinched in her seat at the table. She wasn't as studious as me, but she was definitely more athletic and pretty. But for our dear mother, nothing less than perfection would satisfy her. Which was precisely why she could never be satisfied with us. 

When Rose handed her report card over in silence, I steeled myself for the ensuing blow. Sure enough, Mother flew into a rage. 

"This is what you call a report card? Thank God you take after my looks at least, or you'd be utterly hopeless. Do you two know how harsh the real world is? You have no idea because you're just children. Well, you'll learn when you're older, and you'll understand. By then, no one will help you--certainly not me; I have my own life to live by then. You should be grateful that I didn't abandon you guys at the orphanage those years ago, when I should have..." 

As she trailed off, Rose and I both knew--no, were already aware, that she regretted that decision. She liked to remind us occasionally. 

"Do you think what she said is true?" Rose asked quietly as we walked to school together that day. "That I'm worthless because I don't get good grades...?" 

"No, don't listen to her. You know she's just saying those things because she's angry."

"But why is she always angry at us? Did we do something wrong?" 

"..."

Her questions were always too difficult to answer. She was only two years younger, yet she was pure and her heart was good. I wanted to protect that as long as I could; it was too late for me, who had already begun to see the ugliness of life and felt bitter about it. If I stared into a mirror at my reflection hard enough, I thought, on the other side of that glass would be my sister shining in light, whereas I'd be hidden in the shadows.

"How much lunch money do you have left?" I asked instead, changing the subject. 

"Not much... enough for a boiled egg and a sandwich, I think. What about you, sister?" 

"I'm fine," I lied. In fact, I had run out of lunch money and knew I would have to skip lunch again, but it didn't matter. I had been lucky enough to have had breakfast that day, and would have to persevere. I had slipped Rose some of my earned lunch money because I knew that she was still growing and needed more nourishment than I did; I could steal food from the cafeteria, after all--which I did from time to time--or I could share food with my classmate and friend, Gail, who came from a well-off family and was the only one in the class who was nice to me. 

After dropping Rose off in front of her classroom, I trudged towards mine, already feeling defeated for the day and out of energy but mainly feeling apathetic. Once I opened the classroom door, the students fell into a hush because the gloomy social outcast had arrived. Gail, unlike the others, was the only one who smiled at me and approached me at my desk.

"Good morning! Do you want to eat lunch together today, Irina? I have a couple of friends from other homeroom classes that will be joining, but it will be alright, since they're really nice."

"Sure. Thanks, Gail." Even though I was awkward and hardly smiled, Gail was the only one who treated me like a normal kid, and for that I was grateful. I gave her a sheepish smile before she beamed back and skipped over to a group of students who were complaining about an upcoming test. 

Later, before lunch break and during our free self-study period, I headed for the bathroom as I needed to pee. Once I was behind the safety of a stall, however, I heard the arrival of a couple more girls who were loud and giggly as soon as they entered, and I felt instantly annoyed. My peace was thereby ruined.

"Have you seen her hair? It's covering like half of her face! Doesn't she know how to get her bangs trimmed?" 

"Psh, what about her uniform? You can totally tell it's not washed; it smells like oily food and makes us all sick. I wish she weren't in our class. Why am I so unlucky?"

The voices belonged to a couple of girls I could identify from my class by face, but I couldn't recall their exact names. It didn't matter; this was nothing new. They didn't understand that both of those things were beyond my control. I couldn't get my hair cut because Mother didn't want to spend money on it. She would cut it for me now and then, but she would do it so bad that I preferred it, actually, when she didn't try to help. And as for the uniform, I couldn't really help that either. To do laundry, I needed coins, which Mother didn't provide because she was almost never home. I only had the one set of a blouse, skirt and tie, so it wasn't like I could wash it everyday. One time a kind old woman who lived above us felt pity at seeing our squalor conditions at home and offered to help by doing our laundry, but when Mother found out, she had been furious and made a scene, threatening the lady: 

"You think we're beggars? We don't need your pity; who asked for your help, old woman?! Do you want a lawsuit on your hands? I can make you pay!" 

Of course, the old woman--and the rest of our neighbors--became too afraid to intervene from then on. Fear of repercussions often outweighs kindness in any adult's heart, I realized. I had received lashings with a ruler that night for ruining her star image, and was starved for three days and three nights as punishment. I would hallucinate because of the hunger, pain, and fatigue, but what made me hold on was the hatred at the bottom of my heart--even if I never wanted to feel again, and eventually made me wish I would just die. 

But nothing had turned my heart quicker to stone than hearing Gail laugh loudly in the bathroom that day.

"I know, right?" she guffawed. "God... her stench... really makes me so sick, I want to puke. But my mama told me to be nice to her, because her family is ruined and she's done for. If you want to be a good person, you're supposed to have pity for the ones who are below you. And she's, like, totally at the bottom of the social ladder." 

So she had been spending time with me under false pretenses all this time--how many hours had I wasted on this rotten excuse for a human being? Talking all high and mighty because her family had more money than I did. I couldn't stand her scorn, especially after knowing it came from someone so fake and detestable. She had never once been my friend. Maybe it was better this way, because now I was able to know the truth in her heart, and she wouldn't be able to deceive me any longer. When I thought that, I became really calm in a manner of seconds. She couldn't hurt me anymore, but I could hurt her.

I flung open the bathroom stall door, making the three girls shriek and jump in surprise. When they saw me walk out of there confidently, Gail's face paled. As I wordlessly washed my hands, I could feel their stares on my back. Once I was done, I simply looked Gail straight in the eye and said:

"I don't want to be friends with a brainless slut like you, either. People like you who rely on their family's money and use their looks to advance up the so-called 'social ladder'... are nothing but leeches. I don't need your pity or friendship. Go rot in hell."

After that incident in the girls' bathroom, absolutely nobody would talk to me anymore. They were either afraid after learning the stuff I'd said, or they were more interested in full-out bullying me after my sole (fake) supporter abandoned me. Even though the girls would taunt me with nasty threats and the boys would pull at my hair, I didn't react. I wouldn't give them the satisfaction. Instead, as revenge, I stole a can of chicken noodle soup from the cafeteria and, during lunchtime, I poured the hot soup all over Gail's hair. 

"There. Now your hair's all smelly and greasy, too. Don't ever talk to me again or I'll hurt you. And this applies to all of you"--I gave a death stare to all my classmates--"don't talk to me or come near me, or I'll make sure you get what you deserve."

Gail said nothing and took the mistreatment. The whole class became afraid of me after that, calling me demented, and the rumor spread that I was crazy and that I should be left alone, which was what I'd preferred. The next week, Gail had transferred to a different school.

[livredebelle]

Sixteen.

I EXHALED DEEPLY. "LET ME MEET ROSE FIRST."

It was time; no more running away. I needed to meet her and make sure she was doing all right. No, that was a lie--I needed to know if she had forgiven me. If I was going to move back in with my family, I was going to have to face her sooner or later anyway. 

Mother clicked her tongue impatiently. "I don't know where she is. You can find her somewhere around here, but first give me your word that you're going to move in."

"...Irina?"

Now or never.

Under the dim lights, Rosalie sparkled like a true princess. Her long, dark brown curls reached her hips, and she was wearing a strapless navy blue gown that accentuated her hazel eyes. She looked graceful and truly gorgeous. Her big, round fawn eyes were open wide in shock. 

"..."

"So, do I have your word?" Mother broke the silence, demanding. 

I sighed. "Yes."

"Good. I'll need to go ahead and start with the preparations. I'll contact you later," she sang as she disappeared into the shadows, back towards the party.

Rose and I stood silently, neither of us knowing exactly what to say. It was too awkward.

I decided to be brave; I clenched my fists. "Um... you look really nice. It's been a while, sis."

Her eyes filled with tears and she pouted.

"It's been too long... where have you been all this time, Irina? And how could you not contact me, even once...?"

Her sadness enveloped over me. Guilt trip.

"...I'm really sorry. I was only thinking of myself at the time. Do you think you could ever forgive me?"

I wasn't the type to beat around the bush. I had to know. 

"There's nothing to forgive, silly. I just wish I'd been trustworthy enough for you back then... imagine how you'd felt when you left... I think about it all the time and regret it. If I had been more observant of your suffering, then maybe we could have talked it out and you would have stayed."

I shook my head adamantly. "No, that's wrong, Rose. I left because I was selfish. I didn't think about you at all, to be frank... I just wanted to escape. I had been plotting to run away from home for a while, but I couldn't tell anyone... again, I'm sorry."

She smiled weakly. "It's okay. Things will return to normal now that you're back. Mother told me you're moving back home?"

"... Yes, it seems that way." Of course Mother had already told Rose so that she could make it easier to guilt trip me to doing her bidding.

"I can't wait!" Rose squealed. "We'll make sure your room looks exactly like how it did before. There's so much to catch you up on! You can come watch my recitals, and we'll do everything together--"

She blabbed on and on, and I tried my best to hide the fact that my heart was heavy with burden--the burden of keeping secrets for the sake of others.

***

"Watching you with your family is like watching a soap opera," Quinn commented with a dramatic roll of his eyes. "So, are you ready to bounce? What happened back there, exactly?"

"Nothing..."

"Jesus, Irina. I thought we agreed to be more open and honest with each other now. Or was that just me, again?" 

He was sulking; he probably didn't know it, but his bottom lip had turned into a slight pout. He had the same expression as Rose had a couple minutes ago, except he looked like a puppy with its ears down. Oh no. Damn these people, knowing my weakness for the innocent Bambi eyes and sad puppy face. 

I smirked, amused that a bad boy like Quinn could make face expressions like this. It was uncanny. "I'm sorry, you're right. Well, long story short... I've decided to move back in with my family again. I'm not sure when exactly, but..."

I trailed off as Quinn's eyes got wider and wider with each word I'd said. 

"What? You're moving out? This is way too sudden."

He ran his hand through his neat hair, messing it up a little. "I thought you said you guys didn't get along. Now all of a sudden, everything's all fine and dandy?" 

His voice dripped with sarcasm. What was his deal? I knew he'd be upset, but I hadn't expected a reaction of this degree. I said carefully, "I know it's sudden, but my mom kind of gave me an offer I couldn't refuse..." I mumbled under my breath, continuing, "It wasn't easy for me either. I really don't want to do it, but I'm more afraid of the consequences of not doing it more."

"You realize this just gives your mom more leverage and power? You're gonna be trapped there." 

"Probably, but I've been promised some freedom, so it wouldn't be the worst thing. Besides, she was already stalking me and tracking every single thing I did; nothing would actually change, would it? No matter what, that woman was going out of her way to stay involved with me. I'm tired of running, and want to try confronting her head-on by myself. I'm not a child anymore."

I sounded a lot more confident than I actually felt, but it helped me calm down a little. Maybe I was right. I could definitely win, now that I was older and more experienced. I wasn't dumb enough to fall for her tricks like before; I knew better. Still, I had to make sure to stay on my guard; my mother was like an unpredictable snake, and I needed to be a fox in order to be her opponent.

"I don't approve of this. This is really, really stupid, Irina."

That was it. "What the hell is your problem?" I snapped. "This is my life, and I'm making a decision for myself. I've given it a lot of thought and I'm old enough to make my own decisions, so screw you. It has nothing to do with you."

I instantly regretted what I'd said, but it couldn't be revoked. 

"Nothing, huh..." His expression darkened. "You know, I'm always gonna be stuck in square one with you. I'm sick of seeing you self-destruct like this. You've made one thing clear tonight--you don't need me. I get it. God, I feel like such a damn idiot..." 

With a shrug and an acidic laugh, he put his hands in his pockets and started walking away from me and the motorcycle. 

"Where are you going? What are you going to do about the bike?!"

"You drive it back home. I'm gonna take a walk around the area to clear my head for a bit. See ya."

And then I was alone. 

I bit my lower lip. Fuck. I had screwed up again. I had made Quinn angry at me, and that wasn't an easy feat to do. Sighing, I rubbed my temples. I needed to be better about controlling my words when I was angry. I was going to have to do something about my goddamn temper.

Luckily, this wasn't my first time riding his Harley, so I made it back to my apartment just fine. The whole ride, the wind had felt great in my hair--I decided to go without a helmet because the riskier the feat, the more of an adrenaline rush I got, and I lived for those moments--so it gave me plenty of time to think of how I was going to apologize to Quinn later when he got home. 

Once home, I changed into my much more comfortable pajamas and I waited for quite a while late into the night, but Quinn didn't show up. I was waiting in my living room on my phone so I could hear if he tried to unlock his door; the walls weren't that soundproof, so in the late of the night when it was quiet, you could almost hear anything. I also periodically checked through the tiny peephole on my door to see if he came, and was constantly dismayed when he wasn't there. 

Finally, around 1 AM, I heard the sound of keys jingling next door. Wow, it was late. I had fallen half-asleep with Kona sleeping next to me on the couch. Rubbing my eyes sleepily and resolved to apologize as sincerely as I could, I stepped outside. "Quinn? You're so late... I have your keys for the--"

My half-closed eyes opened fully to reveal Quinn jamming his keys into the door--with a busty girl by his side. I blinked a couple times, making sure she wasn't a mirage before I realized the situation I had stumbled into.

"Oh--" I knitted my brows. I had intervened at a bad time. 

"Hey, that girl looks like something she has to say to you," the girl said, nudging Quinn. 

He stared at me coldly, and I stared back almost emotionlessly. "I don't have anything to say to her. Don't pay her any mind; she's just my neighbor." And with that, he gestured the girl into his apartment before shutting the door firmly in my face. 

I blinked sporadically once more, the gravity of the situation weighing in. Oh... of course he didn't want to see me yet. I had been rude and ungrateful to him earlier--no, the whole time I'd been friends with him. It was only natural that he would feel that way; I wouldn't want to see me either. It was wishful thinking to think he would forgive me so soon and so easily for such hate-spewing words. I sure had a lot of ego thinking he would pamper me and tell me everything was all right once he returned. 

Seeing him with a girl at this time of the night brought me back to a realistic perspective. There was no question--Quinn had realized what an awful girl I was, and his feelings for me had subsided, if not cooled considerably. I wouldn't be able to take back my past actions, nor could I atone for it. It was a consequence I was going to have to live with, and I could accept that. I mean, who did I think I was to deserve his friendship, anyway? I had been fooling myself. 

Things would be quieter and lonelier for a while in the near future, and I was okay with that. 

Probably.

***

"Hey, lady, where do you want this coffee table placed?"

I looked up from my phone and said, "Near the living room, please. Not too far from the kitchen."

Moving in to the penthouse floor of Richard's condo was thankfully not so difficult because I had planned ahead. Ever since my mother had texted me the move-in date, I had methodically planned out everything so the process would be a lot smoother and easier. 

It had only been a week since the night of the party, and Quinn was still not talking to me. In fact, every time we ran into each other, he would ignore me, and my heart squeezed a little in pain. However, I knew I had no right to complain, so I decided to suck it up and invest my time in planning instead. I enjoyed being meticulous and organized, after all--almost too much, with my behavior being borderline OCD. 

I recalled how last night when I was getting my last mail in the mailroom, we had run into each other and he pretended as though I didn't exist. He walked right past me towards his mailbox, swiftly opened it and took out its contents before disappearing back down the hallway and heading upstairs to his apartment. 

I hadn't seen the girl from that night since then, but I wondered if he was dating her now. If so, I just wanted him to be happy, because he definitely deserved to be happier. I couldn't do it, but maybe someone else could. Someone better. 

It was unfortunate that we couldn't patch things up before I left, but I lacked the courage to face him again. Quinn had never been this mad at me before, but worse, he was so indifferent now that I couldn't help but think he was completely over me. Which made sense. After all, what kind of person in their right mind would want to be with someone so exhausting and difficult? Even I wouldn't want to. 

I had contemplated leaving a letter under his door, but that was too outdated and cheesy. I could text him anytime if I stopped being a chicken, and I knew I would run into him at school. The fall semester was about to begin, and I was plenty anxious with that fact alone; I was overwhelmed at the thought that so many things were going to change in the span of the next couple weeks. 

Mother had kept her promise and backed off on the financial aid front; there were no longer any problems with registration. In fact, I was granted a full-ride scholarship (mysteriously) and I knew either she or Richard must have had something to do with it. It wasn't like it impacted me negatively, though, so I didn't plan on doing anything about it. Besides, I was dirt broke, so was I really in the place to argue? I wasn't so righteous as to refuse free money. Nothing came cheap. Of course, I didn't like being indebted to my parents--ugh--but there was nothing I could do about it right now. I only hoped Mother would keep her promise about my freedom, too, but I seriously doubted it. 

"I'm curious," Maria said suspiciously as she lifted up a box marked Books. "Why isn't Quinn here? I would have thought you'd take advantage of his muscles and make him help you move in." 

"Jeez, you make me sound like a tyrant."

"Well, you kinda are with him..." she said remotely as she disappeared upstairs towards the mini-library space. 

Ouch, an unexpected blow. It was true, though.

I groaned inwardly when I looked at how many more boxes and pieces of furniture we had left to sort and move. This was going to be an all nighter! What a disaster. Even with some movers helping me, just two girls of questionable strength weren't gonna be able to do much in terms of lifting, which required strength and speed--which both Maria and I sadly lacked. I flexed my arms to reveal nonexistent muscles. I really needed to hit the gym sometime.

My phone buzzed, and I answered immediately in a clipped tone. 

"Mother."

"How is it, how is it?" she asked brightly as soon as I picked up. "The penthouse is amazing, isn't it? It's so spacey and has a modern look. Richard knows so much about architecture that I think it's time I learned, too, so I could remodel our future house to suit his taste."

"Yes, it's fine. I need to get going if I want to unpack everything and move the furniture."

"Dear, you have plenty of time to do that! Why don't you just rest for tonight, and I'll send some people to take care of it tomorrow. You do know we have a housemaid and servants, right?" She sounded almost giddy. I rolled my eyes in exasperation.

"Okay. But I still need to go take care of personal matters, so I'll have to talk to you later." 

After a couple more failed attempts to invite me to join them for dinner, I finally succeeded in hanging up the phone. God, she talked too much. As if I'd eat dinner with them, especially on the first day! I cringed at the mere thought of it and the suffocation--me, Richard, Mother and Rose all seated together, all but strangers to one another. Mother had been trying to tell me something at the end of the call, but she was talking in riddles and being coy, so I had just hung up on her. You'll have a surprise coming your way later, she had said, or something similarly vague. It made no sense when she did that. Why couldn't she be more straightforward... how tiring. 

I thanked Maria and, after treating her to a drink at a nearby milk tea shop and waving goodbye to her as she got in a cab, I decided to tune in for the night after reviewing my syllabuses for my upcoming classes and figuring out what books I needed to buy to prepare. Back at my new place, after finishing my earl grey milk tea, I took a quick hot shower and felt refreshed and awake. Caffeine was such a wonderful drug; my mood was elevated and I felt a little jittery. Sighing in relief at feeling this relaxed for the first time in a while, I was comforted by the thought that I had such a huge luxurious place to myself where I could be alone and at peace. I wiped the foggy mirror in the bathroom and brushed my teeth, wrapping a bath towel around me. It was so warm and fluffy, perfect to my liking. I had to give Mother credit--she knew my preferences and had fixed up the place to meet my standards. 

I walked out of the bathroom absentmindedly to clear up the steam that had built up as a result of my shower; I liked to use nearly scalding hot water when I showered. I had nothing but the towel wrapped around me, as I was guaranteed solace and thought nothing of it; it was what I usually did back at my other apartment, too. I was tying my wet hair up into a messy bun and turning on the tv in the living room when I saw a shadow move from the corner of my eye. 

What the...?

There was something shifting and moving in the dark vacant room on the side opposite of my new bedroom. I couldn't see it exactly, but I could hear it shuffling about. Mother had told me that was an old study room that Richard had used, and it wasn't being used by him now. I had wondered what to do with the extra room--perhaps make it a guest room or something--but I hadn't inspected the whole penthouse yet, as it was too large. I had deemed it a task worthy of exploring tomorrow, but I regretted that now. 

'What the hell is moving in that room...?' I wondered. Crap, I should have turned on more lights around the area. I decided to venture into the room; maybe it was a rat... if so, I'd just need to smack it with a broom, which I grabbed on the way. I took a steady breath to calm myself and braced to whack at whatever was moving, opening the door quickly and flipping on the lights. 

"Gotcha! ... Huh?"

I yelled and had prepared to whack at the thing like crazy until I was confronted with a figure much, much bigger than a rat. It was a person. Frozen in fear, I was about to let out a scream when he turned around and placed his hand firmly on my mouth. 

"Shh. It's just me." 

Dumbfounded, I lost my voice as I struggled to say something in this ridiculous predicament. 

A sly smile crept upon Heath's lips, and they parted ever so slightly as his eyes roamed up and down my body.

"Really... it's going to be like this, huh? I'm going to like having a roommate." His voice was low and primal. He took a step closer to weave a strand of my wet hair around his finger with his free hand, and lifted it up to his face and sniffed it. My face flushed red in embarrassment and shock. 

"H-Heath? What the...?!"

"Shh. It's already so late in the night; we wouldn't want to disturb anyone with our noise. Although, I suppose that shouldn't matter, as this unit is soundproof." He smirked, clearly entertained by my discomfort. He refused to move his hand that was covering my mouth, so I was tempted to lick it or bite it or something to get it off, but I remembered my memory involving Quinn in a similar scenario and blushed even brighter red, deciding against that action. Dear Lord. What a pervert I was turning out to be. 

It made no sense. What was Heath doing here?! So many questions, but I couldn't even ask. Like a prey cornered by its predator, I felt that I was in danger of some kind, and couldn't dare move a muscle. Suddenly, I became painfully aware of the fact that I was wearing nothing but my bath towel--and he had apparently been changing out of his work clothes, because most of his shirt buttons were undone, revealing his lean but muscular chest. My temperature kept rising; I felt as though I had a fever. I just wanted to escape from this mortifying situation, but I was trapped. 

At the same time, I couldn't help but appreciate the scent that was radiating from his neck, and my eyes were quick to devour the sight of Heath in an unbuttoned shirt--it was incredibly sexy. I swallowed hard. Control yourself, control... I chanted in my head, like a protective mantra.

He didn't seem as affected, which slightly wounded my pride. He was such a playboy, and I hated him. 

"Hmm... Yes, I'm really going to like this. Aren't you cold? I can't believe you came out of the shower wearing nothing but that." 

Heath burst into laughter wholeheartedly at my bewildered expression as he gradually removed his hand from my mouth. As soon as I was free from his clenches, I was relieved, but when he moved farther away from me to give me space, I felt a little disappointed. I detested myself for being so weak like this. Unable to deal with my shame, I was quick to accuse. 

"What the hell are you doing here? Don't tell me you live here." 

My heart sank. Was this part of Mother's plan somehow? But why? I found it hard to believe that she would know Heath was staying here and neglect to tell me. Which meant it was likely on purpose, which must have a reason.

"That's right. You didn't know?" He resumed unbuttoning his shirt with an amused expression. I turned my body away from him, unwilling to watch and become a true pervert. 

"No." I was dying to eject myself from this situation, but I was still in shock and couldn't process my next course of action. There was no way I could maintain eye contact with him for long--ever--due to his intense gaze, but in this current moment, there was nowhere else that was safe to look. It was far too late, though--the image of Heath with his shirt open, revealing his firm and sculpted muscles on his chest and abs--was already branded into my brain. 

"Enjoying the view, Miss Everly?" he breathed behind me in a low voice. The sound of the unbuckling of his belt ensued, and I blushed redder. No doubt, I'd be an idiot to assume he didn't feel the same electric current running between us as I did. I inhaled deeply, which was a mistake as I ended up smelling more of his natural soapy scent, which never failed to mess with my rationality. I sighed, exasperated due to feelings I couldn't comprehend. 

"...I'm leaving. Idiot." 

"Hmph."

He shifted closer towards me and pulled my hair free of my bun. I stiffened as he swirled a strand of my wet hair in his finger and he leaned in closer to whisper in my ear. 

"I'm certainly enjoying my view. Tell me, do you normally dress in nothing but a bath towel whenever you're home? If so... I, of course, approve." 

He was torturing me! It was like I was dealing with the devil whenever I was with him.

"How about you? Like what you see?" I could practically hear the smirk in his voice. My eyes narrowed at his arrogance. 

"No."

"Hmm. Well then, why don't we put it to the test?" 

With one swift, firm tug, he pulled and spun me onto his wide white bed in a matter of seconds, caging me with his arms and using the weight of his body against me to hold me down. I protested and shoved against him, but it was no use; the more I struggled, the more force he used to pin me down. The weight of his body on mine was nearly crushing. Breathless, I glared up at him in defiance, and he grinned. 

"That's it--that's what I'm looking for." 

Before I could stop him, his mouth had found mine in an instant, and my unwillingness dissolved like a pile of sugar on a hot summer day. Like before, he kissed me passionately and urgently, as if he was afraid I would disappear. He suckled on my lips before thrusting in his tongue; I felt dizzy and out of breath. I felt my arms wrap around his neck helplessly and he shivered, our tongues messily intertwined as he put one of his hands in my hair and gently tugged. After a couple of minutes spent like that, we finally came up for air, and his tongue traced my ear all the way down to my collarbone, and I shuddered in undeniable pleasure. When he started kissing the side of my neck and I felt a subtle but stinging pain, I snapped back to reality and realized what he was doing, but it was far too late. 

"What the fuck--"

"There, I've brandished you with my mark. Now you can no longer deny that you feel something for me. Congratulations, you've passed the test." 

He let out a low chuckle and rolled off of me, seductively licking his lips. 

"I'm sorry I had to get so rough with you, but I was beyond frustrated by your lies."

"...You asshole."

That was the second time he had stolen my lips, which felt swollen and bruised now. Again. Even after I hastily left his room with tears in my eyes, I couldn't forget the feeling. I remember looking into the mirror and becoming wide-eyed when I saw the purple bruise that was starting to form on the side of my neck.

"Shit," I grumbled as I threw myself onto my own bed, wallowing in my shame.

I was in trouble; this was the absolute last thing I needed. I wanted to get away from Heath, but it seemed the harder I tried, the more futile it all seemed. I admitted defeat--I'd gladly wave my white flag of surrender. As ridiculous as it was, I couldn't keep pretending any longer; I was already susceptible to him, and he had become my weakness. I couldn't fight against the intense gaze he gave me every time we met. Whenever his blue eyes were upon me, wherever his gaze touched, my body felt hot as if I were on fire. This attraction would be lethal, but I no longer cared. 

Whatever would happen, would happen... like a lamb made for slaughter, I had walked myself right into the wolf's den. 

[livredebelle]

15.5: The fated encounter changes all

HIS HAWK EYES MISSED NOTHING. He had quickly located her via Melanie, because Melanie stood out too much with her overly flamboyant outfit. Once his eyes shifted to her figure, he fell into a trance-like state.

'Utterly ridiculous.'

Those were the only words he could use to describe how he felt at the moment. Nothing tonight had gone according to his plan, and he was very annoyed. 

He had underestimated her; she was truly no ordinary girl. As cliche as that sounded, he was genuinely puzzled at this girl's ability to thwart his expectations. Granted, he had performed rigorous research on her even before he first met her, so he should know everything there was to know about her by now. 

Irina Everly. She was eighteen and the eldest daughter of Melanie Everly, the beautiful but devious woman who would soon have a minor claim to the company. She had just graduated high school and had spent the summer working a measly part-time cafe job while preparing for college. She was pretty, but he was not impressed at first. She was petite and thin, and her pale face accentuated her winning features--mainly, her lavender eyes and her rosy cheeks and lips. He could tell when a woman was wearing makeup, but she didn't and could easily be considered a natural beauty. More than anything, her intense and cutthroat gaze threw him off his game. 

'She is totally unexpected.'

The more time he had spent observing her, the more he started to realize that she was beautiful.

It was a troublesome feeling, especially considering how much he detested women. His past was fraught with misfortune, and it had all been because of one stupid woman: his mother. He still couldn't forgive her transgressions against his family. Obsessed with his father's fortune and good looks, she had driven herself mad and had brought nothing but tragedy, which ultimately led to his father's demise. 

Heath gnashed his teeth bitterly. If only it hadn't been for that woman, his father would not have lost control of his business empire so pitifully. He would not have had to suffer and lose the days of his childhood slaving to his studies in a last effort to maintain his hold on the company.

Lexington Analytics. It was a terrible joke of a name. His father and Richard Lexington had been friends since their college days and had come up with a plan to be business partners in their start-up company. The original idea for the company name had been Ashford, Lexington & Co., but of course after his father's passing, Richard was free to do what he wanted with it. The company had become his sole plaything overnight. Heath didn't doubt that Richard was more than satisfied with the way things had turned out. 

He shook his head firmly, breaking out of his flashback. He could not afford to lose time now by remembering such trivial personal matters. He could not reverse time; he wasn't God. He had to focus on his next line of attack to lower Richard's defenses, so that his revenge against him and his domination of the company would be successful. And the main vantage point of his revenge plan was seducing his to-be stepdaughter.

He knew that he was attractive; he had been the center of women's attention since he was young. He was an almost exact replica of his handsome, gentle father. He was disgusted with his looks, because that was what had been the focus of his mother's obsession. Afraid that he would abandon her for another, she was always insecure, and was driven mad by the thought that she wasn't good enough for her husband in terms of looks and money value. She had obsessed over him until she could tolerate the torture no more and killed herself. The day Heath and his father had discovered her hanging in their attic, everything had changed. His father fell gravely ill after discovering her mental illness and the source of her troubles: himself. He couldn't forgive himself and in the end passed away soon after his beloved wife. 

Heath despised his looks because of this reason. He developed an intense hatred of women, especially those who fawned over attractive men or their wealth. He vowed he would quash these women's vanity; at times, he thoroughly enjoyed playing with a woman's feelings and then discarding them carelessly, watching her despair. Whenever a woman showed interest in him or tried to touch him, something inside him activated, like a switch had turned on. He had a Jekyll-and-Hyde type of personality, where he was generally kind and gentle, but would turn into a vicious villain if a woman were to do either of the above things. When the switch turned on, he was consumed with evil thoughts and wanted to do nothing but trample on women's feelings and was drunk with the pleasure he attained from watching others cower in their misery. When he returned to normal, he would feel guilty for a second but then resume life the way it was. He had been incredibly smart since he was a boy, and he used that brain of his to scheme and manipulate others to his convenience in order to achieve his goal: the downfall and acquisition of Lexington Analytics. 

He was Richard's assistant--for now. It was a war between the two in a struggle to remain at the top. Richard wanted to defend his newly obtained empire, while Heath wanted to crush it and take it for himself. The two were fully aware of each other's intentions and kept the other at close bay; it was as the saying goes... Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer. 

He recalled the events of the party earlier in the evening. An older woman whose name he couldn't recall had come up to him and introduced herself, obviously trying to appeal to his good side. Instantly, he became Mr. Hyde. He had lured her up to the rooftop just so he could crush her spirit and snap her back to reality. She was old, ugly and insignificant. It was bizarre that she could even dream of being on his level. After watching her humiliated expresion and her dejected face as she left, he had felt good but it wasn't as satisfactory. 

'Why won't that girl act the same...?'

All the times he had devised to 'coincidentally' bump into Irina and become her acquaintance that way, her reaction had been drastically different from any other--it was one he had never encountered before. She wasn't immune to his charms, but she rejected him outright and made it clear that she didn't like being alone with him. She had berated him and cursed at him openly. It was refreshing but frustrating at the same time, for this would slow down the progression of his revenge.

'Perhaps her heart already belongs to another.'

But that wasn't it, either. He had investigated Quinn, as he had noticed the two spent frequent time together; but it was clear from their body language that while he was very interested in her, she was just as uncomfortable with him as when she was with Heath. 

Could it be that she had a fear of men? Heath wanted to find out, but more than anything, he had been relieved when he learned that the two were just friends. 

Relief was the last emotion he had expected to come across, so he was disturbed, but didn't think too much of it. 

'This is entertaining. It'll feel much more rewarding once I'm able to obtain her heart and interest.'

And thus the love game had started without either Quinn or Irina noticing. 

Subconsciously, Heath licked his lips. He could still taste her honey lips on his; it was intoxicating, and something vibrated inside of his chest. When he had kissed her on the rooftop, it hadn't been intentional; he had originally schemed to drag out their first kiss as much as possible, so that the anticipation would kill her and she would be easier to consume that way. He had only wanted to mildly intimidate her because she had witnessed his dark side, and he wanted to rectify his slip-up. But he had lost control, quite impossibly. Seeing her lavender eyes sparkle under the moonlight, while she fiercely looked up at him without an ounce of fear, he could sense her hostility--which was impeccably attractive. He wanted to do nothing but antagonize her, so that she would feel more for him. Those unrelenting eyes would belong to him and to him alone. 

He lost sense of himself as he recalled every detail of their kiss. At first, the kiss had started rough and coarse, but gradually became more refined as they grew more passionate and desperate. When he felt her body go limp in his arms, he felt tremendously victorious, and he couldn't satiate his desire for her. When he had inserted his tongue into her mouth, the rewarding taste of sweet honey from her tongue drove him crazy. He wanted nothing more than to taste all of her, to own her and have her belong to nobody else but him. They had breathed each other in and at that precise moment, it had felt as though their dark souls had intertwined. When she let out a soft moan, the thought of revenge and anything else vanished from his mind. 

It was only when she had finally pushed him away, both of them breathless and still famished, that Heath realized how reckless he had been. 

'I've never lost self-control that way...'

That wasn't the only time, either. When they had returned to the party and Quinn started acting territorial, he felt his control slip through the cracks once more, and he couldn't stop himself from provoking Quinn. The nerve... he is not worthy of her, Heath thought. He was a better match for Rina. He understood her darkness better than anyone else possibly could. When she had stopped the ensuing fight and glared at him before dragging Quinn away, Heath was overcome with a conviction stronger than any he'd had before.

'I must have her.'

It was just the beginning.