by Kent, Rina
“Are you ready for Saturday?” I ask in a friendly tone.
“Yeah.” His eyes light up.
“It’s one of the rarest chances you’ll get so make it count.”
“Will… do, Captain.” He appears relieved and relaxed now.
My chance to strike.
“That friend of yours… A… something?”
His easy-going demeanour disappears as he stiffens. “Astrid.”
“Right. Astrid.” Not that I can ever forget her name considering that she’s able to fuck up my entire future.
“She…” He trails off, seeming to weigh his words. “I’m sorry for whatever she’s done. She’s not bad, she’s just not originally from around here. She doesn’t know the etiquette well.”
I pause drying my hair. “She’s not?”
“She lived with her mum before Lord Clifford took custody about three years ago. She hasn’t lived amongst us since she was a kid.”
So the princess hasn’t been a princess all along. Interesting. No wonder she didn’t exude the rotten, snobbish smell everyone at RES has.
During that party, she seemed so carefree and innocent, and yet somehow shackled down.
“You’re not going to hurt her, are you?” Daniel asks with a slight edge when I remain silent.
“Depends.” I stand up until I’m toe-to-toe with him.
“On what?” His shoulders pull back as if he’s about to fight me.
Also interesting. Seems that the princess has a loyal friend.
“I want you to tell me something, Daniel. It’s in her best interest.”
Once Daniel is done with the information I need, he leaves and I change into one of Aiden’s jackets — that’s tighter than mine.
My lips curve in a smirk at the idea of a hunt.
I warned her.
She didn’t listen.
The time has come to punish her.
Chapter Twelve
Astrid
If the king drops you, you can only break.
* * *
I stand in front of my half-empty canvas, staring blankly.
It’s been going this way for… hours.
The muse has been escaping me and I don’t know how to catch it — or if it’s possible to catch it in the first place.
The only painting I did today was Levi’s T-shirts. I even took my time in painting the ‘Manwhore’ all over his ‘King’ title.
Why am I the only one who gets called names in RES when he’s the actual manwhore?
Even I heard about the epic affair last year. He fucked a biology teacher in the lab for weeks until the principal walked in on them.
The said teacher is banned from all schools and she moved out of the country.
True he was a minor at the time, but why the hell was he treated as a victim?
Not to mention all the girls who always brag about sleeping with the arsehole and how good it felt. Said girls have been making my life hell because of him.
The satisfaction from sneaking into the lockers and painting all his belongings in red still hums under my skin.
At these moments, when I’m letting my true free-spirit loose, I can’t help remembering Mum. She rooted spontaneity in me and taught me to never put on a mask.
Masks will suffocate you, Star.
She should’ve thought of the possibility where Dad would have custody of me.
In his house, all I can wear is a mask. The thought of screwing up and letting him down terrifies me.
After all, he’s all I have left.
Nicole made sure to swing by the art studio earlier and announce that we’re having a family dinner tonight. According to her, it’s fine if I miss. In fact, I should miss since I’ll only make a fool out of myself.
I considered showing up just to piss her off, but the thought of Dad’s cold, disapproving stares made me change my mind.
I procrastinated enough until it’s almost nine when RES closes its doors. It’s not like I can spend the night in the art studio.
After cleaning the brushes and putting the supplies in the drawers, I close the door on my way out.
Walking down the vast halls, I stick my earbuds in and let Supremacy by Muse fill my senses.
An eerie, calm atmosphere fills the school’s walls at this time of night. The only active students indoors are the book and chess clubs. Many athletes practise outside this late.
This is the best time to enjoy RES’s massive architecture and the ancient history of the building. No snobbishness or bullying can ruin the mood.
Dan texted me earlier saying he was going to a ‘Meet Up’ with the team — which is apparently some secret hang out place for RES’s football team starters. He offered to pick me up, but I declined and told him to have fun.
Still, I can’t help the streak of jealousy and doubt.
Even though Dan used his position in the team to lure girls, he was never really that into the game. It feels like I’m losing my best friend to the stupid football team.
Besides, there’s no way all these invitations to both the team and their secret partying place are a coincidence.
It could be that I’m being over paranoid, though. I hate the idea of drifting away from my best buddy. If this is another tactic from Levi, then I’m punching his gorgeous face and totally leaving bruises.
I cross the car park on my way to the side exit. It’s the perfect place to catch a taxi without getting all tangled in the traffic in front of the main building.
The bright white light illuminates my way as I retrieve my phone.
Astrid: u’re having fun?
Daniel: Hell yeah! We’re looking at a threesome tonight.
Astrid: You’re a pig.
Daniel: One u love, bugger.
Astrid: Just so we’re clear, I’m so not having fun tonight and u need to make it up to me.
Daniel: Fiiiine! I’ll re-watch Vikings with you for the thousandth time.
Astrid: And bring me the scones your mum makes.
Daniel: Nope. Those are mine.
Astrid: No deal.
Daniel: We’ll split *angry face emoji* Stop coming after my scones, damn you.
I smile, sending him a laughing out loud Japanese emoji and tuck my phone in my back pocket.
If sacrificing tonight means stealing some of Aunt Nora’s scones from Dan, then I’m game. I always tease him, saying we’re only friends because of his mum’s scones.
I’m heading towards the exit when the car park goes pitch black. I stiffen, stopping in my place.
I hit stop on the music and hurry towards where I remember the outside gate.
My hands turn clammy and my breathing hitches so loud, I can’t hear my footsteps or anything in my surroundings.
Dammit. The lights usually stay on until later.
My hand clamps around the straps of my backpack until my nails dig into my palms.
I’d start running, but my limbs are too shaky for that.
It’s true what they say about losing one of your senses. When you can’t see, everything else becomes heightened.
My ears pick up on the slight rustle of the wind against the pine trees surrounding the school. Or at least, I hope the rustle is because of the trees.
My nostrils fill with the scent of petrol from cars and pine as well as my own scent — which is so similar to fear.
The air on my skin feels like razor-sharp objects trying to dig their way inside. No matter how much I swallow, I can’t chase away the taste of acid from the back of my throat.
This is becoming terrifyingly similar to what happened that night.
Both nights actually.
Everything started with darkness.
You can do this, Astrid. You can totally do this.
My pep talk doesn’t work. The whooshing of my pulse doesn’t come down and black fills my vision.
A tall, sombre figure blocks my path. I scream, but the sound is drowned with a strong hand blocking my mouth.
My body
freezes as I’m pulled back, feet dragging on the concrete with a sickening noise.
Am I… being kidnapped?
The thought shakes me out of my stupor. I thrash against my capturer’s hold, scratching and kicking anywhere I could.
My back is slammed against something hard. Air knocks out of my lungs, and I gasp for non-existent breath.
A claustrophobic feeling creeps up my spine, paralysing me. My entire existence is filled with the tall, broad figure looming over me like a dooming grim reaper.
I know fear.
I lived it. Twice.
During Mum’s accident and my hit-and-run. However, fear isn’t a feeling someone can get used to. It’s not a feeling that gets better with time.
If anything, it gets worse.
Now that I’ve seen fear’s face, it keeps changing so every experience is more horrific than the previous one.
Tremors shoot down my limbs and I’m shaking like a leaf during a downpour.
“P-please… please…” I mumble against the hand holding me in place.
I should know by now that begging doesn’t save you. Begging can make those with sick minds want to torture you some more.
But I have nothing else.
Even if I fight, my captor is obviously way stronger than me.
He stopped my earlier struggles with a mere hand. He can tear me from limb to limb if he chooses to.
His free hand glues against my chest.
My eyes screw shut as tears burn behind my lids.
Oh, God.
Please no.
Please.
Something inside me snaps and any reluctance I had about fighting back disappears. I punch and kick everywhere and nowhere all at once.
I barely hit anything, but I don’t stop. I’m crying and punching and kicking like a manic.
He fists my shirt and my screams turn crazier, even though they’re blocked by his hand.
He pulls me forward. I trip, but I catch myself in the last second before falling to my face.
Both hands disappear from my chest and my mouth.
Before I can form any thoughts about what just happened, blinding light goes on in the car park.
I’m standing near the exit with my back facing the school.
Harsh, shallow breaths leave my mouth as my heart thumps against my ribcage.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
I stare around me, spooked, half-expecting a monster to lunge at me from the shadows.
When I look down, I make out the piece of paper glued to my school jacket.
I snatch it with shaky fingers and read the typed words.
Stay away or pay.
Chapter Thirteen
Levi
I orchestrated your fall, but I don’t feel the grand finale.
* * *
My hands remain inert by my side as Chloe straddles my lap, her flowery perfume is so strong, it’s nauseating.
Or maybe that’s due to the shots of vodka I’ve been gulping down.
The party is in full bloom around me. Girls grind on the team members. Some smoke, others drink. I should stop them, considering that it’s a weeknight, but fuck if I care.
Hell, I’ve been drinking like a sailor myself.
The captain in me is a shitty person right now.
The Meet Up is a cottage-like house at the outskirts of London that Aiden has inherited from his mother.
Since we grew old enough to need a breather from the King’s mansion, this place has become our sanctuary.
Ronan is channelling his inner dancer and MCing the party with his random French sayings.
Xander gambles at the table in the middle of the room with a few other players. But half the team has taken a girl — or two — and disappeared down the hall.
Rock music thumps from the new speakers Cole installed the other day. Chris is grinding with a girl, his eyes bloodshot and his smile manic — just like when we returned from the mission.
It’s a merry go round of fun and games.
Usually, I’d take part in the masquerade and pretend like all of this is what I want to be.
But I couldn’t give a shit whatsoever.
Not when everything is fucking black.
I push Chloe off me, and she stumbles to her feet with a squeak.
Usually, I’d fuck the shit out of her or any of her friends. However, since the beginning of this year, none of the girls is doing it for me.
Especially now when everything, even the fucking air, is clawing up my throat and suffocating my breathing.
Ignoring Chloe’s protests, I breeze through the crowd, snatching a cigarette from between Xander’s fingers on the way out.
As soon as the outside cool air hits me, I take a drag and blow a cloud of smoke in the distance.
I’m not a smoker, but whenever it feels like shit is closing in on me, nicotine chases the fog away. There are also the happy pills some of the guys use, but I promised myself to never come within two inches of that poison.
Not after what happened in the past.
It’s one of those nights where everything feels fucking wrong.
Wrong place.
Wrong mindset.
Wrong bloody air.
The only thing that keeps flashing in my mind is the look of horror and despair on those teary eyes as she stared up at me.
The way she begged even though she’s not the type to.
I meant to scare her, put her in her place, and teach her that there’s no crossing me.
But as I stared at the terror in her gaze and felt her shrink and tremble against me, something strange happened.
I had doubts.
I have doubts.
For my entire life, I’ve been taught to be assertive. Once I plan everything to a T and study every possible outcome, I shouldn’t look twice before forging ahead.
After all, no battles were won by just holding down the fort.
My family is known for its boldness whether in business, social, or political situations. We don’t back down once we put our sights on something.
Tonight shouldn’t have been any different.
Yet… it was.
Maybe I took it too far. Maybe I triggered some sort of a trauma that she struggled to keep buried inside.
Her voice sounded hauntingly similar to that black night.
I run a hand through my hair and throw the cigarette away.
It’s over.
It’s done.
That should teach Astrid her place.
Judging from how Daniel is singing with Ronan, it seems she didn’t bother to call or text him.
Not sure if that should delight or anger me.
A part of me is glad the whole thing is done, but the other part, the most confusing fucking part feels emptier and blacker than I did at the beginning of the night.
This is supposed to be my win but I don’t feel victorious.
Chapter Fourteen
Astrid
I don’t hate you, I hate my weakness.
* * *
I hide in the confines of my room underneath the blanket, breathing my own air.
For always chastising myself about feeling strong, I don’t anymore.
I spent the entire night curled into a fetal position beneath the blanket crying until no more tears came out.
There are no words to describe the amount of hate I feel for myself for letting him — or them — get to me.
How am I to survive in the big, vast world if I can’t even stand up for myself?
Is leaving Dad’s house real freedom or am I just deluding myself?
All these chaotic questions never left me the entire night. I thought about Mum and her strength and that only brought more self-hatred for not being more like her.
I thought about Dad and his power and how I didn’t inherit an ounce of it.
I thought about college and my art and how I have no idea where I’m going from here.
It’s
been all crashing down on me. I don’t know how to stop it — or if I can stop it.
Last night, in the aftershock of adrenaline and fear, I learnt something important.
I never really had control over my life.
All this time, I’ve been floating like an aimless object with no landing zone in sight.
The door opens and I still, holding my breaths. I’m not in the mood to talk to anyone — even Sarah.
She’s been checking up on me, but I told her that I wanted to be alone.
The bed dips as a weight settles on the edge. His strong cedar scent gives him away before he speaks.
“Sarah said you’re staying in sick today?” Dad asks in his usual calm tone.
I make an affirmative sound without changing my position.
A sigh comes from my left. It’s not annoyance, but more like resignation — or something similar. He makes the same sound every time he comes to adjust my blanket at night.
It’s the only habit Dad has kept doing since I came to this house.
Every night, he readjusts my blanket as if I’m a child and murmurs, “Night, Star.”
I always pretended to be asleep, or maybe he only comes when he thinks I’m asleep.
He’s been doing that religiously, even during the nights when he’s caught up late with work. The only time he misses his habit is when he’s abroad. Even then, he sends me my goodnight wish in a text.
When he came last night, I resisted the urge to turn around and cry in his arms. I’m still tempted to do it now, but I stop myself.
His ‘Goodnights’ aren’t fatherly, they’re obligatory. Dad’s upbringing and aristocratic name are all about manners and etiquette. I’m sure he gives Nicole her ‘Goodnights’, too.
“Is it because of the accident? Are you having nightmares?” he asks. “I’ll call Dr Edmonds.”
The shrink is Dad’s solution for everything.
“No, I’m just down with something.” Like my dignity.
“Look at me, Astrid.”
I shake my head, curling further into myself.
“Did something happen at school?”