CUT HERE (The Cut Series Book 1)

by Azzurra Nox

  The inside of the hotel had expensive furnishings with gilded gold ornamenting plush red velvet mini sofas lined up against the wall. Once they entered the ballroom, he had to admit that he was a little impressed. Dior outdid herself. He knew that she was the president of the decorating committee and she had done an excellent job with the theme, Last Night on Earth. There were faux stars made of rhinestone and glitter hanging from the ceiling, whilst lace hung down. The tables were covered with dark blue tablecloths. He wasn’t paying attention to the name tags on the table, until Sydney stated, “How strange, we’re sitting at the same table as Dior, Bethany, Bailey, and Lena.”

  “Oh fun.”

  “Maybe Lena suggested that they place us with them.”

  “I really hope she didn’t.”

  He couldn’t see how any good could come out of this arrangement but nonetheless, he sat down without saying much more.

  “Jon, I thought you weren’t coming,” Dior showed up moments after, her pale gold dress offered a generous cleavage. She looked decked out for the Academy Awards with the amount of makeup on her face and tousled hair up in a deconstructed chignon.

  “I changed my mind,” he said nonchalantly.

  The other girls with their respective dates were soon to follow. Lena smiled in his direction and with a slant of her head, she tried to signal that Michael was there. Hope would be thrilled because she kept telling them the importance of having him there to help them with the protective spell. He rolled his eyes in exasperation, and turned his attention to Sydney. He truly hoped this night would go by fast. They had two hours to kill and he couldn’t wait for it to be over already.

  Jon went through the motions. Although he picked at the food and disappeared a few times to steal a cigarette outside before heading back to the ballroom and try to be socially acceptable, which was hard for someone who was socially inept to be. When Sydney tugged his hand to go to dance, he couldn’t say no, especially when she whispered in his ear, “I have the best date ever,” and every single word of that phrase seemed to weigh with a certain amount of affection he hadn’t heard it anyone else before. He couldn’t bring himself to say no, the same way he hadn’t been able to when she had wanted him to take her to Prom.

  Couples danced to what the DJ thought were romantic ballads but Jon would refer to them as “music for my granny.” Jon held Sydney close. She smelled of expensive perfume, flowery and fruity at the same time. He looked over her shoulder and watched as Michael and Lena were close. It looked as though he were whispering something in her ear, and her pale cheeks flushed. He had to look away because the scene was making his stomach knot, and he could already feel the beginning of anger boil under his skin like a volcano about to erupt. He couldn’t handle being under the strobe lights and brushing up against other couples from the crowded dance floor, so he pulled Sydney aside to say that he needed to go out for some air. She didn’t question his behavior but suggested she go with him. When he said he wanted to be alone, she looked down and murmured something about how she’d wait for him at the table.

  Finally, outside he took a deep breath allowing the crisp night air to fill his lungs and calm him. He pulled out a cigarette pack from his dress jacket pocket. The pack was almost empty from his continual escapes from the room. Checking the time on his mobile, he was happy to see that it was nearing midnight. The DJ was revving up the crowd again, because he kept hearing cheers coming from inside. Jon didn’t pay attention to any specific words, and lit up another cigarette taking a long drag. He lurked in the shadows so that none of the teachers or chaperones could see him smoking. His ears piqued when he heard the DJ shout his name. Rushed footsteps came in his direction, and he heard someone say, “Where the hell is he? Dior’s onstage looking like a fool by herself!”

  Another voice shouted, “Jon!”

  He reluctantly butted out his cigarette and walked out of the shadows. “What’s going on?”

  “You’re the prom king!” Bailey shouted with an agitated voice. “What the hell are you doing here! You’re supposed to be on stage with Dior!”

  Anxiety hit him dead smack in the stomach, and he looked over his shoulder like a cornered animal testing his options of escape. But before he could do that, she grabbed his wrist, and Bethany was there to grab his other one, as they both began to drag him back towards the hotel.

  “Wait! Wait! I don’t want to go back in!”

  “Tough luck, cookie. We all voted for you so try to act thrilled,” Bailey shot back. Her violet hair with turquoise streaks looked like they were glowing under the bright garden lights. Bethany gave him a sympathetic shrug as if to say, “Please cooperate, but I know that you’re hating this moment.” His arms went limp as he gave no resistance, there was no way he could get out of this one. Not anymore.

  A crowd formed around him the moment the three of them stepped foot in the ballroom. “We found him!” Bailey shouted triumphantly, as Dior approached him. The rhinestone tiara sparkled on her head and she was holding the fur lined and velvet crown of the king in her hands.

  “Ladies and gentleman the King and Queen of Prom 2010, Miss Dior Fontaine and Mr. Jonathan Russe!” the DJ shouted into the microphone as a spotlight shown down on the both of them. Jon half-closed his eyes a moment, trying to keep the blinding light out of his eyes. His stomach tightened with nerves, and he almost felt physically sick.

  “Welcome back, my king,” she said with a broad smile, her glossy lips looked two times larger than usual. Bailey and Bethany released him, and she placed the crown upon his head as though she were a true queen crowning him.

  “Take this off of me,” he said in a voice that was calm but stern. Sydney walked up to them. Her face was beaming like he had just won some kind of prestigious award.

  “Don’t be silly, Jon,” Dior said with an embarrassed laugh, “We have to dance together now, it’s expected.”

  “She’s right,” Bailey interjected. “It’s tradition!”

  “To hell with tradition!” he grabbed the crown from his head and threw it to the ground. Silence fell over the crowd like a deadly gas, robbing the air of oxygen and rendering the captives speechless. “This is all a stupid popularity contest that has nothing to do with real life! Who gives a shit who’s the most popular person in high school?!”

  “Jon, calm down,” he could hear Sydney say to him, but he ignored her. He tore the tiara off of Dior’s head. She was too stunned to react. A hush fell over the crowd, as Sister Agnes and Father Bob appeared. Sister Agnes was the first to open her mouth, “What’s the meaning of this Jonathan?” her voice stern, but her eyes held an expression of sorrow for having to scold him. Everyone seemed confused by his behavior.

  “This thing is worthless. This thing doesn’t symbolize the worth of your beauty or personality, this just makes you a slave to them!” he discarded it to the floor just as easily as he had done with his own. The tiara fell, and a few runaway rhinestones flew across the room like tiny crystal balls.

  Dior stood there speechless, like he had knocked the air out of her lungs. Then he saw her eyes well up with tears, and when she spoke it was bitter.

  “You ruin everything! No wonder Milly killed herself! I hate you!” and ran past him before he had a chance to rebuttal.

  Bethany ran after Dior, calling after her. Everyone else looked at him with anger in their eyes for having rained on their blissful parade. Even Sydney looked away because she couldn’t hold his gaze.

  “How could you fucking do that to her?!” Bailey shook him, “You’re heartless!”

  He shoved her away and made a hasty exit. His only concern was to get the hell out of there as fast as he could, and he didn’t even realize that he had left Sydney behind, until he was already in his car and driving down the streets of Ventura Boulevard.

  Tears threatened to explode. He could feel the burning sensation of salty water in his eyes already. Sniffing, he drove in direction of St. Lucy’s Academy. Hope would be waiting. Rubbing his ey
es, he tried to focus on the road. A little bit of remorse hit him halfway down the road for what he had done. Dior looked really distraught. The way she escaped, and the words she said to him were indicative of her pain. Maybe he had gone too far. But what she had said back to him stung just as bad. Was he really responsible for Milly’s death? He thought he was and it seemed like many thought so too. But she had been the first to verbalize the accusation. A sinking feeling overwhelmed him. But he pushed it aside as the school came into view, attempting to forget what he had just done to Dior, knowing he had ruined everyone’s night.

  Hope stood in front of the gate.

  “I thought you were never getting here!” she told him when he drove up close to her, the passenger window rolled down.

  “I had a minor detainment,” he told her with a little smirk to try to shed off any presence of his bad night.

  “We’ll have to find a way to jump over the gate, it’s locked.”

  “That won’t stop us, let me park, and I’ll get back to you,” he looked down at the black bag she was carrying. “What’s that?”

  “The equipment we need to do the spell.”

  “Gotcha,” he said, and drove off to park down the corner, a little ways down the street.

  The night was filled with trepidation. He got out of the car and made his way towards Hope. His ears picked up on the sound of flapping wings. Maybe it was just a crow. But at this time of night it seemed unlikely. Could it be Adriel? And if it was her, did this mean that she knew what they were planning to do? These doubts filled his head and he tried to shake them loose.

  He approached Hope and said, “Let’s get this party started.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  The asphalt tore at her delicate feet, but she continued to walk in a daze. Her tear stricken face was a masquerade of melted makeup. The tousled chignon that had taken hours for the stylist to do, was now halfway down, with portions of her chocolate brown hair falling over her bright eyes. Her loose hair stuck to the side of her cheek where the tears matted the locks to her skin. Sobs escaped her lips, and she couldn’t even see where she was walking because the tears continued to gush forth and blinded her sight. Dior Fontaine had never looked so desperate in her life.

  Bailey and Bethany had tried to run after her, but she had run fast so that they wouldn’t see her like this. She didn’t want anyone to see her like this. How could Jon do this to her? He was an insensible asshole! Dior looked around herself to see where she had run to. She didn’t readily recognize the street. Some cars drove by, but nobody seemed to stop. She had forgotten her purse at the prom, and so she was without a mobile. A supermarket came into view. The florescent lights leaked out into the sidewalk. With numb legs, she slouched herself towards the entrance of the automatic door. Once inside, the lights felt like miniature needles digging into her orbits, and she tried to keep her eyes half-closed, looking at everything from a lidded view. It was past midnight on a Saturday night which meant the store was sparsely filled with customers. Only a couple of late night clients could be found hitting the shop for some last minute items such as water, alcohol, cigarettes, or condoms.

  She didn’t even look at the few people around her, but instead directed herself towards the beauty aisle. Her catatonic fingers grabbed hold of a mirror and she hardly recognized the dismantled beauty staring back at her. Black eyes, smeared lipstick, and hair reminiscent of Edward Scissorhands. A strange flapping sound came from the other aisle. Dior turned her head towards the sound, but then heard nothing but the store radio playing a pop tune. She opened a box of cotton cloths and used it to wipe some of the ruined makeup away. Taking deep breaths she tried to calm herself down and think of a way to go home. A potent smell of violets invaded the aisle. Perhaps it was emanating from one of the beauty products, she thought.

  Moments after Jon had thrown her tiara down on the ground she had found herself with the only desire to flee that situation. Her high heels were slowing her down, and she kicked off her Jimmy Choos and ran like she had never run before in her life. The sprint felt liberating, and she didn’t stop until her heart raced and her breath caught in her throat. How was she going to face her classmates on Monday? How humiliating to have Jon tell her that she was a slave to her looks. Did she really give off such a shallow impression? Tears began to fall again as she thought about how she had persuaded her classmates to vote for Jon for Prom King so that she could dance with him for the opening court dance. Her victory was a shoe-in, but Jon wasn’t exactly the popular type, so convincing others to give their vote for him had been taxing. All that hard work for nothing. She had been waiting all year for this night. To finally have a chance to dance with him, and perhaps talk to him a few minutes without him bailing like she had just returned from a leper colony.

  The flapping noise got closer, and a few items on the shelf fell down and scattered over her feet. Shampoo bottles, hairspray cans, and boxes of cosmetics crashed to the floor and Dior moved away from the shelf. Stepping back, felt someone behind her. She let out a startled yelp as she quickly spun around. Her eyes grew big at the grotesque image before her. A woman wrapped in black garments and large black wings cast a menacing shadow over Dior. Trembling with a nonsensical fear of the unknown, she slowly tried to back up from the girl. But the girl grabbed her by the neck, her hands circling around her delicate throat. Her eyes glowed an eerie red, and when she opened her mouth her voice sounded like that of a seductive siren.

  “Don’t be afraid, Dior.”

  “How…how do you know my name?” she asked in a raspy voice.

  However powerless she felt, the animal instinct in her to survive prevailed, and she frantically kicked at the girl with all the strength she had in her. Her hands reached out for her face, and aimed for the eyes. The girl let out a shrill cry, relenting her grip on Dior’s throat. As soon as she let go of her, Dior began to run down the aisle at a speed she never knew she possessed, calling out for help.

  “Where do you think you’re going? You’re done for!” the girl flew over her, and came down to grab hold of her. Dior quickly reached out for the metal shelf and held on tightly as the black winged girl continued to pull on her. Various items were tumbling on the floor.

  “Let go of me!”

  “If you come with me you won’t have to face your friends anymore!”

  “Stop! I don’t care!” scalding tears streamed down her cheeks, burning her skin. Her nails broke from the strain of holding on and being yanked back forcibly against her will. She kicked back, feeling the back of her foot collide with the girl’s stomach. When the creature released her again, she let go of the shelf and scrambled to her feet. A butterfly of hope fluttered in her heart when she noticed that the exit door was only a couple of feet away. Making a mad dash towards it, she didn’t notice the girl flying after her.

  “You’re a fighter, I like that,” the girl said from above, fluttering her large wings.

  Dior looked around her and couldn’t see a single person in sight. Where had everyone in the store gone to? A digital clock above the door signaled that it was past midnight. Only one guy was visible behind a checkout counter, and when she called out for him, he raised his head.

  “Help me! Please!” she shouted desperately.

  “It’s too late! He can’t save you, stupid girl!” the girl swept down just as Dior was close to the sliding doors.

  The collision was tremendous, pushing Dior forward. Her head crashed into the glass door, as it cracked and broke all around her. The glass resembled shattered crystals spread around her. Sad stars for a fallen star. She was immobile. The faint sound of someone rushing to her side. Her face felt on fire like a million ice picks had shot through her. From her half-closed eyes the only color she could make out was a kaleidoscope of red.

  “Everything’s going to be alright,” a soft male voice said to her, “Trust me.”

  The voice comforted her, although it didn’t diminish the pain she felt. A second ago she felt strong
and invincible. Now, moments later she was spread out on the floor like a tattered rag doll discarded and unwanted. No more tears made their way out of her eyes. She had cried too much that night. Feeling faint, she closed her eyes wanting to garnish some serenity. She simply wanted to bring the curtain down to a horrible night and wake to a better tomorrow.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Forty minutes had gone by and nothing seemed to happen. Jon was beginning to feel a little restless. He and Hope had been working on a protective spell. She had wrapped white ribbon around the school entrance’s door knob and strategically placed four mirrors at each corner as she chanted something in what sounded like Latin, but Jon paid no attention to what was being said. Hope was wearing the tartan skirt and button down shirt from the school uniform, which struck Jon odd since it was a Saturday and she had been nowhere near the school. But he just shrugged it off as he watched her carefully break the shards of mirror into little pieces. The fog had begun to settle as it crawled over the campus like a silent predator waiting for its moment to strike. Footsteps approached. When he heard the sound, he jumped to alert, thinking that maybe Adriel was nearby, but he was mistaken. The pace was rushed and nearing him.

  “Who’s there?”

  “It’s us,” he recognized Lena’s voice as she walked closer to him, moving out of the fog. Michael was right behind.

  “What took you two so long?” he sounded almost accusatory.

  “Thanks to you we all had to go look for Dior.”

  A knot formed in his stomach at the mention of her name and the memory of what he had done just a mere hour ago. He hadn’t meant to lash out at Dior in that way, but now he couldn’t remedy the damage he had done. His gesture had most certainly placed him on her permanent black list.