by Selina Marie
Betrayal burns so deep and torturously. The urge to run, scream and break down gnaws at me but I refuse to show any weakness.
I don’t know what I’m feeling; there are too many emotions to keep track. The sting of betrayal is potent, but I will not falter.
I think subconsciously, I’ve been preparing for this moment my whole life. I’m an expert at burying my feelings until I am entirely numb, and this is one of the times that I need to do that.
I won’t show them how I’m falling apart on the inside, how my chest is cracked into a million pieces. I refuse to give them the satisfaction, they will not have that power.
Focusing on my breath, I inhale, exhale and repeat as I slowly walk toward my sister—not my sister.
Her self-righteous smirk still sits on her face and that’s when I realize her words are true, I really am nothing to her.
In the next second, my fist connects with her face for the second time in twenty-four hours, blood spraying across the floor, my hand throbbing.
I turn around, without making any eye contact with anyone, even Nate, who I didn’t know was here until he whistled low after I smacked Alexis. I keep my eyes on one spot just outside the door as I pick up my pace and I leave.
I’m done.
◆◆◆
Lukas
The second Emilia is out of the door, my legs kick into action and I fucking chase her.
“Fuck! Emilia, stop!” I yell as she stomps her little ass down the track, her hair swishing side to side. She stops abruptly, spins around and flips me off screaming, “Fuck you, asshole!” then she turns and runs.
She runs away, from me.
I’ve never been so conflicted. I want to chase her down but there’s no way she will listen right now. The other issue being that Alexis is finally in my grasp, and I’ve waited too long for this moment to find out what really happened to my brother. My heart feels like it’s being ripped out of my chest and dragged along the gravel, as if it’s tethered to Emilia, following her wherever. My brain, though—it wants back through those doors so that I can force the answers I need from her fucking mouth. I know she was there the night Elijah died; she was involved and until I know exactly what happened, I won’t waste this opportunity because I know I won’t get it again.
Turning my back on Emilia’s figure that escapes further away from me as she races down the track causes pain I didn’t know I could feel.
She’s mine. She will be mine whether she wants to face it or not. She can fight me tooth and nail and deny us all she likes but I will come for her.
When I’m done with Alexis, Emilia will be mine, I’ll be hers—fuck, I already am—and she will know everything, no more secrets.
They’ve been necessary up to this point; but look at how they’ve fucking served me.
Striding back into the warehouse, Nate is in the far corner, where he’s been fucking leaning back, feet up watching the show. Amusement is written all over his face and there are rarely times I want to knock the look off his face, but this is one of those moments.
“You fucking knew she was there the whole time, dick!” My teeth clench already knowing the answer. Of course, he did.
“Follow her, make sure she gets back ok.” I bark at Nate still feeling the rage burn through my veins. I’m so fucking pissed at him. We’ll deal with it later, most likely with our fists. But for right now, I have a blonde, worthless piece of shit responsible for my brother’s death to deal with.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Emilia
The ache in my legs is dull but it’s definitely there prodding at me, reminding me that everything has turned to shit. How could they do this to me—all of them. I feel like I’m back at square one, totally fucking oblivious to everything going on around me. I thought I knew so much but really, Alexis was right.
I am naïve… so damn naïve to have taken everything—everyone at face value. I should know better. I do know better, and I’m so frustrated and angry at myself for being back in such a shitty position. The fact that I now have nowhere to go weighs heavy on my mind. I know Mel will have me, but I don’t want to burden her with all of my shit, and there’s so fucking much of it now. I can’t even begin to think about what just happened in there. The revelations are too much right now, and all I want is to drink myself into a coma and sleep for a decade. Exhaustion makes my legs tingle a little more when I reach the main road, closer to the center of town. I’ve been walking for over an hour, surely I can’t be far… I swear the drive only took thirty minutes.
My legs protest as I push through and continue walking toward Mel’s house, no longer able to run. I know my bearings now. It’s also not lost on me that there is a black SUV stalking me and has been for the majority of my journey. It’s either Lukas or Nate and I couldn’t give a shit. Fuck them.
Lukas can suck a dick if he thinks for one second that I will be going back to his house—yeah, fuck that. I would rather go back to Robert’s house and sleep on the pile of ash, and that’s saying something.
This part of town is the rich part. Mel’s house is only a few minutes' walk away, and the flashy cars and mansions that look like I’ve ended up in Beverly Hills taunt me, boasting their wealth and class, shoving it in my face of where I come from. The woman who raised me and my sister—or so I thought—has even abandoned me for this life that promised them opportunity, freedom and material things. Those are the things that they feed on—power and money—and it’s becoming so apparent how blind I’ve been my entire life.
I would soak up any moment of affection or attention from my mother and Alexis, desperate for it, like it could fill the gaping hole that I craved to be filled. The need to be loved by my own family. I guess I was asking too much of them.
I scoff to myself, though nothing is at all amusing or funny about this, but if I don’t laugh, I will break.
Everything has been a lie; the life I’ve led from the day I was born into this fucked up world, was nothing but deception. The rare times my mother had given me an ounce of her attention prodded at me, attempting to infiltrate my head and push me over the edge I teetered on. I remember the half assed praise she gave me once or twice, I can’t even remember what for anymore, but I ate it up taking anything she gave me. I needed love and all I got were lies.
I shuffle toward the gates guarding Mel’s parents’ property, which open as I approach, as if she knows I’m here. My legs are so close to giving out, the adrenaline wearing off as I walk up toward the door, past the obnoxious water fountain that sits on the center of the enormous driveway, if you can call it that. It’s so big it can easily fit about thirty vehicles, at least. The grand white door swings open and Mel stands there, her phone in her hands, looking at me curiously, concern sweeping across her face as she takes me in.
“What the fuck, Em? Are you okay? You look like you’re about to pass out.” She jogs over to me and pulls my arm over her shoulder, wrapping her arm around my waist, supporting me. The sound of an engine cutting off catches my attention, and glancing over my shoulder I see the SUV—the same one that was following me—park outside the gates. Now that it’s stopped, I can see Nate in the driver’s seat, his gloomy glare fixated on Melody.
Mel’s house is the most modern, decked out place I have ever been; everything is white, glossy and utterly pristine. Her family’s staff scutters around carrying obscenely large vases that burst with variations of flowers. I hear noise in the kitchen as we walk past the entry that curves around to the right after walking approximately a mile –okay, kidding—but seriously it’s a trek to get from the door to the staircase, that mirrors the one on the right, and I don’t have much energy left to carry me.
“What’s going on? Why are all those people here?” I ask her as strangers dart around us with purpose carrying various boxes and other fancy, rich people shit.
“The parents are throwing a fundraiser.” Mel rolls her eyes making a gagging motion, causing me to laugh. She hates all the materialistic cr
ap, the charity events that are only thrown so that people with money can flaunt their privilege in a silent competition of who has more, and who’s more perfect. Mel is just like me, and I don’t know how she puts up with it all.
I nod in understanding as we reach her bedroom door, she closes it behind us, and I can’t hold myself together anymore. I fall to my knees and break in front of my best friend.
Mel is on her knees pulling me toward her, holding me as I fall apart, sobbing silently. My black tinted tears run freely down my face, staining Mel’s silk white blouse but she doesn’t even notice, and if she did, she wouldn’t care.
When I’m all out of tears and the racking sobs still inside of my chest, I tell Mel everything, all of the secrets, the lies, the betrayal—the shattered pieces of my heart left in the hands of the man who I gave myself to, under the stilettos of the girl I used to call my sister, and the woman who couldn’t even love her child, even if I wasn’t biologically hers. I wonder why she’d even chosen to have me and keep me, if she was so heartless that she couldn’t love an innocent child desperate to be loved? And in return the girl felt as if she walked on glass, constantly trying to impress her, just for a moment of her time, her love—requited or not.
Not, it would seem.
Mel stands and crosses the room, disappearing into her walk-in closet, not a minute later she emerges with a bottle of Jägermeister and two shot glasses. Ok, I guess we’re doing this straight. Good, I need the burn and I actually prefer it straight. She settles on the bed and I move from the floor plopping down next to her as we throw back a shot, our faces screwing up slightly.
“So, obviously you’re staying here,” she affirms sternly, no room for argument, and I actually agree, which is unlike me.
I give her a small smile in thanks, and she winks, not needing words.
“Urgh, how do I get myself into these fucked up situations?!” I throw my body back, falling onto her queen size bed, my hands covering my face muffling my voice.
“First of all, you didn’t ‘get yourself’ into anything. How were you to know that your boyfriend and family are fifty shades of fucked up?” Mel says, pouring us another shot, shaking her head in disbelief over everything I confessed to her.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I say, completely detached from emotion at this point.
“Ok, fine, your fuck buddy?” She raises her eyebrows in question, a smile growing on her face. I laugh, defeated, my body feeling like a floppy noodle.
“So, I’m expected to make an appearance later but I can totally blow it off if you want, but it may result in my death if I don’t go. Believe me, it’s the last place I want to be. I would spend the least amount of time humanly possible being around those pretentious, prissy assholes—oh and the guests,” she jokes, even though it’s an accurate statement, referring to her parents. She takes a breath and continues, “To avoid their wrath, I probably should go for a little while, but I totally understand if you want to stay up here with our friend.” Mel cradles the bottle of Jäger, stroking her fingers over it affectionately, as if it’s a precious bundle of joy. I suppose it is tonight.
Laughing at her, I let out a sigh, weighing my options. I mean hibernating and drinking myself until I pass out sounds pretty appealing right now, but I also know how much Mel despises these functions her parents throw every other week and feel bad that she has to suffer through it alone.
I groan, sitting up, my shoulders slumped as I look at her, my grimace secured on my face, resembling the look of a petulant, grumpy child, as I tell her I’ll go down with her, so she doesn’t have to deal with the torture on her own. I guess the bonus is that there is food, and we can chug champagne without anyone batting an eye. Yeah, it’s that kind of party where ninety-eight percent of the rich assholes attending are all alcoholics.
Mel shuffles over to her closet swaying slightly on her feet, the alcohol must be taking effect. I can barely see her face when she carefully steps. She peeks over the dresses and various items of designer clothes draped over her arms and chucks them on the bed.
“Pick whatever you want, I already have a red dress that my mom insists I wear,” Mel says, rolling her eyes. She glides over to her bathroom snagging a dress from the hanger on the back of the door and it is absolutely beautiful. Her mother won’t stand for her daughter looking anything less than perfect. Melody appeases her parents most of the time, but if they saw the outfits she changes into when we go out together, I think they’d both have a stroke.
Examining my options, I almost give up and launch myself into the mountain of pretty material, because that is exactly what it is—a freaking mountain. I will never know how Mel could possibly wear each of her outfits even once, then again, I don’t live in a lavish neighborhood where charity events, luncheons and extravagant balls are the norm. My norm is more comparable to the certainty of drug dealers and criminals on your doorstep every day. You can guarantee that there will be plenty of those here tonight—huh—maybe we aren’t so different, after all. Labels of clothes, and levels of status may separate us, but you can count on the fact that blood money is passed under hands, drugs are dealt not so discreetly, sex sells—literally—and it will all be as normal as breathing in this society; because these people—the elite—all they know is money, greed, manipulation and power.
I eventually opt for a deep, navy blue satin dress, that is plastered to my body like a second skin. It cuts low so that some of my cleavage is on display but not so much that it looks tasteless. It’s actually stunning, and I can tell by the mischievous gleam in Mel’s eyes that she’s going to make me keep it. Eh, I won’t fight her on it.
After getting changed into our dresses, Mel curls my hair until loose, glamorous waves flow and spiral down to my waist, and then she starts on my makeup, pulling my head in this direction and that. After we deliberated what would look best, I choose a heavy winged liner, smoky eyes and a red lip. There isn’t really any other option with my eyes, due to the sobing session I had earlier. If I had left them neutral, the red rims and dark circles underneath would have been screaming, drawing attention to my vulnerability, and at this kind of event with these types of people, that would very much make me a target.
An hour later we’re in our dresses, hair and makeup done, and from the outside you wouldn’t think for a second that I come from where I do. Not that I feel any less, I don’t, and to be honest I couldn’t give a shit what anyone else thinks; but in these rare moments where vanity and appearance is the focus, I give a silent thanks to my real mom, whoever she is, and my dad for not failing me in the genetics department, at least there’s that. I scoff before I realize I did it out loud, catching Mel’s attention.
“You okay over there?” she asks, eyeing me skeptically.
“All good, shall we get this show over with so we can get drunk and eat sugary shit?” I wiggle my eyebrows suggestively, while I internally drool over the idea of eating copious amounts chocolate and sour Haribo.
Immediately Mel grabs my arms and pulls me across the room towards the floor length mirror to do a once over before we go, nearly causing me to stumble and fall over my own feet. Because of course it’ll be a crime punishable by death, to Melody’s mother, if we do not wear gorgeous six-inch death traps on our feet.
I have to hand it to her, Mel knows what she’s doing when it comes to transforming a princess into a fucking queen, because that’s how I feel right now. I look good in my dark blue satin dress, the silky material looks as if it’s water cascading to the ground, where my stilettos hide underneath, just the toe peeking out. My curves are accentuated, and my pale skin contrasting between the dark of the dress, my makeup and my hair, gives off all the gothic vibes and I’m here for it. The red of Mel’s dress looks incredible against her strawberry blonde curls, that fall over her left shoulder, held in place by a silver diamond hair clip that sparkles under the lights on the ceiling. Anyone who ever said that people with reddish hair shouldn’t wear red are in fucking denial.
My dress is satin, whereas Mel’s is a deep, red lace, mermaid gown that molds closely to her body and then feathers out beautifully when it hits just above her knees, and in all honesty, we look flawless. I feel better than I did, I almost feel ready to go downstairs, and just as the thought of bailing and locking ourselves in her room conspires, Mel’s eyes catch mine in the mirror, a look of understanding flickering across them. She grabs my hand, and we head out the door to the vultures that wait at the bottom of the staircase.
As soon as our stilettos click against the glossy granite, I feel like I am going to slip and go gliding through the crowd of people, taking them down to the floor with me. At any other time that might have been an entertaining thought, but right now, I’m on edge and don’t realize I’m squeezing Mel’s arm until she grunts.
“I’m going to need that arm to hold my many, many drinks in a moment, Em, so if you could refrain from cutting off all circulation that would be great,” she quips.
I loosen my hold, biting my lip, trying not to laugh, because the minute she’s seen by her parents’ guests, who are all dressed as if they are attending the Grammy’s—us included—there’s a boy who I would guess, isn’t over the age of ten, who looks as though he just died and went to heaven as he admires Melody from across the entryway.
A snigger escapes my lips and Mel mutters, “Shut up” with humor and displeasure from the unwanted attention she’s getting from her little friend. Her reaction tells me she knows exactly what I’m quietly laughing about.
I nearly lose my shit when he lifts his head defiantly and marches over with the confidence of well, a ten-year-old.
“Oh, he’s coming over here, shall I give you two a minute alone?” I smirked which quickly turns into a quiet yelp when Mel pinches my arm, murmuring under her breath, “If I have to suffer, so do you!”
Two seconds later the little boy is standing in front of us, looking like a miniature man in his tailored tux and black bow tie. He has light brown hair combed over to the side and hazel eyes and is admittedly adorable. When his polished little black shoes are only a few feet in front of us, he lifts his hand out to Melody,