by Rina Kent
‘Your uncle is a hopeless case, dearest nephew.’ Aunt Ariel’s shadow taps on Uncle’s shoulder. ‘Go back to your father. Don’t ruin your standards with Alexander.’
I drive her screeching voice away. I won’t leave Uncle Alexander, he’s the only person in this place who tries to understand me. Even Mother doesn’t. She thinks hugging me and telling me she loves me will drive all these shadows, darkness, and voices away.
Where Mother failed, Uncle succeeds. His mere company purges all the demons.
Uncle’s lips pull in a radiant grin. His features are so similar to Father’s. Sometimes, it’s disturbing. But his genuine smile sets him apart. “Aren’t we friends?”
Aunt Ariel laughs so loud a ringing invades my head. ‘Poor Alexander, he thinks you can make friends. I told you you’re special, Aaron. You’re nothing like the weaklings in Alexander’s stupid little family.’
I retrieve my notebook and scribble for Uncle to read. Am I special like Father?
His smile fades, but his voice comes out in its most reassuring tone, erasing Aunt’s existence. “You are my one and only nephew and therefore, you are special. But never compare yourself to your father. I will make sure you’re nothing alike.”
What if we already are? I hold out the paper for him to see.
Uncle pulls both horses to a halt and bores his similar eyes into mine. “Do you trust me?”
Do I? Due to custom, Uncle has become my carer after Aunt’s death— despite Father’s objections. Ever since then, Uncle has done everything to make me feel like I’m normal. He went to the length of giving me time he doesn’t offer his own children.
I nod. He earned my trust long ago. In fact, I trust him more than I trust myself.
He’s real. Sometimes, I think I’m not.
“I wasn’t able to save neither Ariel nor Arthur, but I won’t repeat the same mistake with you.” Uncle’s knitted brows ease as he studies me with the fatherly look that makes me want to kill Tristan, Thia, Trevor, and their mother so I can have Uncle for myself. “Don’t follow in your father’s footsteps. Follow mine.”
A mixture of warmth and coldness washes over me as Uncle pats my shoulder. He smells like Autumn, windy breeze, and falling leaves. A hard found in-between. Not too black. Not too white. The perfect grey.
I smile. Uncle is right. All I have to do is to stop being myself. Maybe that way, I’ll become like Uncle.
And maybe, just maybe, I’ll stop being special like Father and Aunt.
Present,
Another bloody memory that should have been erased. It’s still a lot better than the madness of Aunt and Grandmother.
I suck in a deep breath and sit up on my sofa. It’s all because of Autumn’s scent coming from my bathroom. Mae is another grey. A confusing smell. An in-between that I should stay away from. Yet, my feet carry me to her. There’s no fighting this itching urge to be near her. It’s almost as persistent as the demons’ voices. Almost.
When I open the door, Mae doesn’t acknowledge me. She’s staring in the mirror. Her gaze void, like an aimless ship without an anchor. Her less-bruised hand tightens around scissors. An unnatural shade of white covers her knuckles. Her other hand clutches a handful of silky blond strands.
“Grandma used to comb my hair.” Mae’s voice is low, strangled with emotions. Does she even realise that she’s talking to me? “She used to tell me tales when doing it. The longer my hair was, the more story time we spent together. I never cut my hair or dyed it ever since. It represents my love for Grandma.”
“Why would you cut it then?” I look at her through the mirror.
Her lips tremble and the blueness of her eyes dampen with unshed tears. “He pulled me by it... he... he put his filthy hands on it.” Her voice breaks, but she shouts the last words. “He sullied it! I need to get rid of his dirtiness!”
My teeth grit. Hampton needed a slower, more painful death.
I put my hand over her trembling one. “Let me do it.” It takes her a while to release the scissors. “Memories are what you choose to remember. You can always omit the unpleasant ones and remember your grandmother’s touch.”
She says nothing. Doesn’t even spare me a glance. Her gaze seems to find an inexistent point in the space much more interesting.
I grab a blonde strand. It slips between my fingers as if escaping its fate. I hold it to my nose and inhale the rich citrus. My goodbye.
I open the scissors when Mae shifts away. “Stop!” She brushes past me, scurrying out of the bathroom.
My lungs extend, untying the uncomfortable knot in my stomach.
I stand there for a minute, staring at my reflection.
There’s definitely something wrong with me. Why the hell would I be that relieved when she didn’t cut it? Or when she didn’t mention I also dirtied it when I touched it? Or when she showed her inner fighter after a whole week of being a shell?
“Who are you?” I whisper at the face in the mirror. He looks like Aaron Rhodes but he’s also everything but him. He’s not a soothing black, he’s a confusing grey.
Where are my demons when I need them? Why are they leaving me with a foreign version of myself? Do they not fear the consequences?
This me is dangerously unpredictable. I shouldn’t be left alone with Mae. One more look into her eyes and I don’t know what I would do.
I need to get the hell out of here.
With one last glare at the foreign version, I stride back into my room and straight to the door. I will not look at Mae, neither address her. I need a quiet place to regroup my thoughts, take Jet and—
A heavy sigh draws me to a halt. My gaze zeroes to the girl who’s messing with my mind. Why am I letting her wreck with my logic?
Who the hell is she?
Mae sits on the edge of the bed, her soulless blue eyes staring at nothing. They’ve become a disgusting copycat of my targets’ dead eyes. I don’t like that. A desperate need impels me to fix it. As if I caught Dylan’s unexplainable urge to wipe the look in his victims’ eyes.
Only difference: she’s alive.
I’m the worst at dealing with people. And yet, something needs to be done.
I dial Kane. “Bring Jet and Silver in front of my quarters.”
After throwing the phone on the chair, I march to my walk-in, yank my suit off, and put on my horse-riding clothes in record time.
When I’m back in the room, Mae chances a little glance my way. Her usually morbid curiosity dies in a split second as she focuses on an unseen point on the wall.
“Up, mouse.” I use my tenacious voice as I stand in front of her. “You’re coming with me.”
A rebellious determination flashes in the depth of her gaze. The moment disappears as fast as it came. Her eyes go back to their virulent dullness. She stands and follows me outside. Her steps lethargic. Her face an unemotional veil. Like one of Father’s obedient slaves.
Screw that. This isn’t the Mae I’m used to. If she doesn’t fall out of this state, I must use the shock element to straighten her behaviour.
“Where are we going?” Her voice is firm and unwavering.
I smile. There’s still that curious kitten inside her who wouldn’t keep her mouth shut for the world. There’s hope after all. If it’s her hate towards me that threw her into this state, then I can bring her back together again.
Once I open the large entrance’s door, Jet nickers, stomping his hoofs in greeting. Silver looks my way but soon glances away.
She prefers Tristan.
Kane hands me the reins and disappears with a nod. I pat Jet’s neck. He takes the chance to bury his
muzzle in my chest.
“Are they yours?”
I beckon at Mae, who’s still in the doorway, to join me. Her gaze travels left and right. There’s no hint of that free bird in them. She’s not even thinking about escaping, she’s merely observing her surroundings.
A few moments later, she shuffles from the door to stand beside me. Her attention on Silver.
The grey mare snorts at Mae’s nearness. I tug on her reins. “Easy, Silver.”
“Silver.” Mae’s lips move in a small smile. “Very fitting.”
Hell. I didn’t know how much I’d missed that smile until I saw it.
Mae extends her hand to Silver’s white and grey pigmented coat. As on cue, the mare reaches out for Mae. The damn traitor. She doesn’t respond to me but she greets Mae as if she’s an old acquaintance.
Mouse’s lean fingers caress Silver’s neck, the bruises prominent against her pale skin. The traces still didn’t disappear. A witness to her half-broken state. Yet, the smile doesn’t leave her lips as she caresses Silver. The mare keeps still, enjoying Mae’s touch a bit too much.
“Have you mounted a horse before?”
Her hands halt their sensual caress, as if only noticing my existence. She clears her throat. “It’s... been some time. My grandfather had a farm but ever since he died, I didn’t have the chance to ride a horse.”
Good to know she has experience. I’m bad at teaching things.
With a swift movement, I mount Jet, clutch the reins with a relaxed grip. “You won’t have troubles with Silver. She’s a docile Arabian breed.” My horse snorts, excited for a walk. I pat him. “Easy, Jet.”
Mae shakes her head, a look of defiance on her face. “What if I want to mount Jet?”
“He is my horse.”
“So?” She purses her full lips.
I begrudgingly rip my eyes from her lips and narrow them on her now-challenging gaze. “So I won’t allow you to ride my horse.”
Before I can register what’s going on, Mae puts one foot on the stirrup and positions herself in front of me. I have to push myself back to not get us both on the stony pavement.
She twists her neck until she’s half facing me with a victorious smile. “Oh look at that, I’m riding your horse.”
My hands itch to throw her off Jet and see if her snarky attitude will stop the fall from breaking her neck.
“Go on to Silver. She’s docile.” Her smile transforms into an infuriating smirk. “Only she doesn’t seem to like you.”
The fucking...
Before I submit to the urge of pushing her off, I trap her body between the reins and my chest, kicking Jet into cantering.
“What are you doing?” Mae tries to push me to no avail. “You need to get off.”
“If you don’t shut up, you will be the one to get off. With a broken neck.”
She clasps her mouth shut. Then, as expected, opens it again. “Fine! I’ll go to Silver.” She throws me a death glare as I stop Jet and she descends him. Her sun-kissed blonde-grey hair brushes against my chest. I inhale the sweet citrus and smile.
My bird is back.
Jet and Silver guide us into the west barren ground of the estate and then to the forest. Pine trees decorate our way. Except for random bird cries and the Jaguars roars in the distance, silence falls heavy between us.
This is disturbingly similar to my strolls with Uncle.
I glance at Mae. She’s handling Silver with a veteran’s ease. There’s no resistance whatsoever in the mare’s movements. Mae’s head moves left and right, inspecting our surroundings. Her awed gaze gets lost now and then as we cut the miles.
“Is this whole place yours?” Her softly spoken words break the silence. She always finds a way to break the silence.
“It’s my family’s.”
“Humph. Talk about showing off.”
“You’re the one who asked, mouse.” I smile, not finding the energy to be infuriated at her sarcasm.
She smirks, half spinning to face me. “You’re the one who brought me out so you can show off.”
“I was thinking of getting you some fresh air.” I pull Jet’s reins to turn him. “Since you’re in no need for such courtesy, then we better head back.”
“No!” The wind blows Mae’s hair, sending rebellious strands to cover her face. She doesn’t seem affected. Instead, her gaze looms over the muddy narrow path. Sun penetrates the tall trees, drying their leaves. But yesterday’s rain left its entrails through the humid smell coming out of the grass. Autumn in winter. Grey in black.
“I like it here.” Her voice is above a murmur. “You’re so lucky to have this.”
“Such a place comes with its rules. There’s an exceptionally high price for the estate.”
She nods, her lips pout in apparent thoughtfulness. “I figure that an estate’s value is high. How much is it?”
“The soul of everyone living within its walls.”
She pulls Silver to an abrupt halt, and I coax Jet into stopping too. Mae tips her head to stare into my eyes. There’s blankness in them. Undecipherable lines cloak her features, forbidding me any access. When she speaks, her voice’s mischievous. “Including mine?”
My firm grip on the reins almost slips. What is that unprecedented tone? Is she playing with me? “Most likely,” I say, voice flat, playing along.
A wide grin animates her face, sending daggers into my chest. What is this version? Is she doing that on purpose?
“Does that mean you and I are the same?” She licks her lips. “You know, since we’re paying with our souls and such.”
Screw this game. “What are you plotting, Mae?” I snap.
“I was joking.” She releases an exasperated breath and focuses back on Silver. “You’re no fun.”
That’s it. I’m going to slip my knife into her neck. And for the gates of hell’s sake, people need to stop telling I’m not fun.
My phone vibrates, saving her.
An unknown number flashes on the screen. I answer. “Who is it?”
“Are you ready to meet our peers in hell?” Celeste’s excited voice causes an uncontrollable tensing in my limbs. “Your number wasn’t easy to get, Aaron, why are you this unsocial? I thought I taught you how to have fun. Remember that time in Hungary—”
“Get to the point, Celeste.” I cut her off.
Mae’s eyes widen, probably in recognition. I don’t know how much she watched of the surveillance camera but she must’ve caught Celeste’s name. Thankfully, she keeps her loud kitten’s mouth shut.
“How was the night after I left?” I can almost see the sadistic smile on Celeste’s face. She knew Hampton’s intentions and I’m sure she was the one to form the idea in his head. He was too dumb to plot such a plan on his own.
Celeste’s blood will have to pay for hurting Mae.
“Either cut to the chase or I will hang up,” I say in my calmest voice.
“Bugger all! Fine. I have a suggestion to make.” Celeste’s voice takes a serious turn, the monotonous one she’s used twice in the long years we’ve spent together in The Pit. The first was to ask her father why he sold her and the second was to tell him goodbye before she held a gun to his head. “After you snobs escaped The Pit, I became a veteran. I’ve met the head of The Pit— personally. I can tell you who he is and how to find him. That way, Tristan and Dylan get their revenge.”
Too good to be true. The Pit’s head is practically a ghost, no one has met him personally, but this is Celeste, she wouldn’t offer a losing deal. “Your conditions?”
“You do know me.�
� She laughs, genuinely this time. “That I would have many conditions, not one, I mean.”
“What are they?”
Her voice goes back to its seriousness. “First is obviously money. You’re rich, I’m sure you can pay me whatever price I name.”
I meet Mae’s slightly spooked eyes, and she reverts her attention to Silver. Even if Celeste is the key to bloody salvation, I’ll still kill her. She dared to hurt someone under my protection.
Besides, she said it herself, it’s Tristan and Dylan’s revenge, not mine. True, it would be thrilling to hunt the nameless ghost and kill him slowly for taking Uncle away, but I’m sure there’s another way. I play along nonetheless. “Second?”
“We take off!” There’s excitement in her voice. “I assume you got bored with your pet already and will kill her soon. Therefore, nothing would tie you down anymore. It’s going to be fun, Aaron. Just you and me. Solo. Like the good old days. You must miss that freedom.”
“We were never free back then. We were trained dogs to murder.” And did she say... bored? My gaze looms over Mae’s neckline, her plump lips, her thick strands, and her small smile as she pats Silver. I’m anything but bored. In fact, I don’t remember the last time a human being peeked my interest in such an obsessive way.
Not since the withering memories with Uncle.
“Do you mean to tell me you’re free now?” I can imagine Celeste clicking her tongue.
“No.” I bore my eyes into Mae’s, drowning into their softness. “But I have a reason to want so.”
Chapter Eighteen
Mae
I miss Aaron’s voice. It’s like a distant sweet song I want to hear again but can’t. I learnt to stop searching for it like I learnt to kill my rosy expectations for Arthur’s redemption. Both will never lighten my life. I’m forever subjugated to this darkness. This is my choice. I can’t blame it on anyone but myself. I could’ve said no. I could’ve ran away, but I was too blinded by loving Arthur that I ignored his cruelty. All until his atrocious deeds slapped me in the face. Then Aaron came, and any chance I had of escaping this place vanished in thin air. I couldn’t take him and run. Arthur would’ve never allowed me to snatch his heir away. If I file for a divorce and go to court, his power will crush my father’s and he will never let me see my child again. He’ll raise him into a worse monster than he is and I’ll lose both of them for good.