Golden: A Paranormal Romance

by Ellis Marie

  My mind stumbles over a reply, and the slight hesitation causes his eyes to fly up and glare at me. My throat closes in response.

  “No,” I choke out, clearing it. “I apologise, it was my mistake.”

  My father leans forward, his arms landing on the table as he moves his plate out of the way. “Let me ask you this,” he starts, his fingers intertwining and his face a look of pondering. “Not only was the dinner ten minutes later than I asked, but it was also overcooked.”

  He laughs, looking at Matt. “It’s as if the time I gave her was perfect for the meal and she didn’t listen.”

  Matt glances at me with a smirk. “You know that you should always listen to your father, Anna.” He chuckles, shaking his head. I squeeze my hands together, flinching at the pain from my finger.

  “So what was the reason it was late?”

  My heartbeat speeds up at the question. I thought he’s just going to let it go; I should have known that he wouldn’t. Suddenly, the room feels a lot warmer and the hairs on the back of my neck are standing up. My hands become sweaty.

  His hand slams down on the table and I jump. “Why the hell was it late!”

  The shout echoes through the room and I stay silent, my breathing rapid as he stares at me, then his eyes flicker to my hand, which has come up automatically at the sound of his raised voice. Panic sets in as I see him acknowledge the large plaster around it.

  His thin lips slide into a smirk as his tongue runs along them, his voice like ice. “Give me your hand.”

  I know not to disobey, even though I want to run in the opposite direction.

  “I-I cut it cooking. There’s n-no blood anywhere, I-I promise,” I whisper. He shushes me, raising his other hand as he wraps his fingers around the plaster.

  “I don’t want excuses,” he tells me. My eyes flicker to Matt whose face is emotionless as he sips his beer, watching me like it’s casual viewing on the TV. “Is it sore?”

  I can’t get my voice to come out and my chest tightens.

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” he hums, his chin lifting towards me as his whole fist wraps around it. “Now, what have we learnt tonight?” he asks, beginning to squeeze. I flinch, my eyes widening in panic.

  “I-I don’t—”

  “What. Have. We. Learnt?” he hisses, his fist beginning to shake as he grasps tighter and my tears spring at the pain, waves of heat flowing through my hand.

  With his yellow teeth gritted, he waits for my answer.

  “T-to listen to you,” I stammer. “To h-have dinner on time.”

  Please just let me go.

  He tightens his grip. “And?”

  I pinch my eyes shut, trying to focus on getting words to spill out my mouth without shaking. His fingers are like a vice, and I know that if I don’t answer, he will just continue. I’m like an animal caught in a trap.

  “A-and to be more careful,” I gasp out. He lets go, releasing me and the pain in my chest with it. My back hits the chair in relief, and he assesses me for a moment before wiping his hands on his napkin. It’s only now I see how much red there is, the pulsing pain reminding me of the moment.

  “Make sure to clean yourself up,” he suggests, rising from the table. “Matt and I will be enjoying the football.” He necks his bottle of beer before slamming it on the table. “Don’t leave the kitchen in a mess.”

  Matt rises automatically and throws his napkin down on the table as my father storms out of the room with a fresh beer in his hand. It’s as if one is dressed in the costume of the other.

  “Honestly, Anna, you think you would have learnt by now,” Matt sneers like he’s just stepped in dog waste. “I’ll be up later.”

  And then I am left alone.

  I collect up the plates through a haze of tears and stumble to the dishwasher, loading the ceramics as quietly as possible. The fear of disturbing the beast is prominent in my mind. My body feels numb and even my throbbing finger can no longer be felt. The only sign of injury being the slowly soaked red plaster hanging off it.

  It doesn’t take long to clear the kitchen. I kept it clean while cooking in case my father decided to have an impromptu inspection of my standards. He’s known to do that from time to time.

  In my bathroom, I sit on the toilet seat and assess my finger. My frequently used medical kit is resting on my lap as I wash it, trying not to cringe at the sight. I clean it using an antiseptic wipe and muffle my cry with a towel. Placing some gel along the incision on my finger, I hold the skin together and hope that it holds. The last thing I want to do is put stitches in.

  I wrap a new plaster around the now-closed cut and then put a light bandage over it, too, just to avoid any accidents. I clean up the bathroom, tucking the kit in the back of my shelves behind my makeup and perfumes, making sure nothing is out of place.

  Entering my room, I feel a wave of safety wash over me. My father hardly ever comes upstairs, and it’s the one place in the house where I can relax. Pictures of Kristie and I decorate my pin board with a few of Cameron, although Matt isn’t too fond of those. I have to limit how many he’s visible in. My light lilac sheets cover the bed in the middle of the room—a large double that my father bought me after he met Matt. It’s safe to say he approved of him.

  I walk over to my bed and sit down, exhaustion washing over me as I finally relax for the first time in hours. Kicking my shoes off and resting against the pillows, I reach into my bedside drawer and take out the photo frame hidden there. I look at the two women and the baby smiling softly, my fingertip grazing their grins as tears trickle down my cheeks.

  “Hi, Mama,” I whisper. “Hi, Grandma.” Their faces stare up at me. I can’t help the wave of loneliness that engulfs me, the quiet sobs that wrack my body, making me clutch onto the picture frame. “I miss you guys.” The confession leaves my lips like most nights, and like always, silence greets me in return. They are never coming back. They left me here, and I have to deal with this on my own.

  I hear footsteps coming up the stairs, and I quickly stash the photo back in my drawer, covering it with a textbook and shutting it softly. I lie back against the pillows and pull my comforter up to my chest, wiping the tears off my face and slapping my cheeks a few times to make them look rosy and not damp.

  There’s time to run a hand through my hair and smooth it down just before a knock rings out and the person walks in without waiting for a reply.

  “Hi, princess,” Matt greets, coming over to me with a sympathetic smile and soft eyes. I smile back at him and scoot my legs over so he can sit on the edge of my mattress. He strokes the side of my face, his blue eyes shining as he assesses me. “You alright?”

  His question seems silly. I want to scream.

  Of course, I wasn’t alright. Would anyone be alright with this?

  I nod and he grins, leaning down to the bag that I only now realise he has. “I got you a new outfit for tomorrow.”

  He tells me as though it’s something I should find exciting, but in all honesty, I lost hope a long time ago that he would ever pull anything out of that bag that I truly loved.

  The white colour surprises me. Usually, he would pick pink, or red, or something equally eye-catching.

  “I want you to look pure, to look too good for the scum that is about to enter our school,” Matt’s hisses as he reminds me of what’s happening tomorrow.

  It slipped my mind.

  “Like I said, remember to act accordingly. I don’t want to see you touching them, talking to them, or even looking at them. You’re far too good for them.”

  I smile at him, acting like I’m grateful. “You’re all I need,” I respond, and he smiles at my answer. “I promise to try and stay away from them.”

  Matt’s smile remains. He takes my hand, kissing it softly while his shoulders drop with a breath. “Oh, I know you’ll try. You’re not stupid. You know what happens when you don’t listen.”

  My breath hitches. He winks, standing up with a groan. “Well, I better be of
f. Mum needs help with her car, and I promised I’d do it before her work tomorrow.”

  He leans down and his lips meet mine, their softness comforting me as I close my eyes and remember the reasons why I love him, how kind and caring he can be, how much he loves his family.

  He pulls away almost too soon. I open my eyes as the image of him three years younger fades away and is replaced with the current icy gaze. I get out of bed and follow him to my bedroom door, leaning against the wood.

  “Goodnight,” I whisper softly, sharing another kiss with him.

  How I wish we could go back.

  “I’ll pick you up tomorrow,” he tells me, and I nod in response, wringing my hands together. “And remember, best behaviour.”

  He disappears down the dark hall without another word. I shut the door quickly, the click of the lock echoing around my room, letting the feeling of safety wash over me.

  It’s done for the day, but the feeling of relief doesn’t last very long as I notice Matt’s present lying on my sheets, discarded without a care. I feel the thin fabric between my fingertips as the flimsy material makes my hands shake.

  I’m terrified by what it means.

  By what he wants.

  Just how exactly am I meant to avoid an entire school?

  CHAPTER TWO

  Stepping out of Matt’s car, I suddenly feel as though I can’t breathe.

  This is it. The feeling that I’ve had all morning. This foreboding itch that I can’t scratch. Like a lighthouse in the distance, the glimpses of light disappearing and reappearing from view.

  It almost feels like something is about to happen, something that could change my life, but that’s crazy, isn’t it?

  I haven’t said anything to Matt . . . obviously.

  It would just have made him angry, and it’s not as if I really said a single word the whole drive here. He rambled on and on about our image and my instructions for the day for pretty much the entire journey. I nodded along in agreement, my mind wandering. He joins me at the side of his truck, snaking his arm around my waist as he looks me up and down. “You look so damn sexy. I’m so proud that you’re mine.”

  He kisses me lightly and my heart flutters. He has the sweetest moments sometimes. Like buying me this outfit; it’s actually quite nice, much to my surprise. Sure, it’s still skin-tight and not something any sane person would pick to wear to school, but I can pull it off with the hot weather and the denim jacket I’ve placed over it. I thought it was a dress at first; however, the outfit is actually a two-piece—simple and white, a spaghetti-strapped crop top and skirt to match. It’s something definitely more suited as an outfit for a different type of occasion, but I don’t feel as horrible as I thought I would.

  Although the shoes he’s paired it with could be improved so that they didn’t pinch my toes between their golden straps.

  “I’m going to go find the boys. Meet you at your locker?”

  Matt walks away without waiting for a reply, making me roll my eyes. I sling my bag over my shoulder and place my sunglasses on my nose.

  Breathe. Time to make a good first impression.

  The closer I come to the main building, the more eyes I feel on me. I greet the familiar ones, smiling and waving in an eased lull, but as I begin to see more unfamiliar faces, I thank my glasses for hiding the nervous expression that I can feel slipping over my features.

  As my hair swings, I feel their glares and I already know why. They’re waiting for me to act like the queen b*tch of the school, to be a total cliché like Tracey or the three witches, but I’m not like them.

  I hate being mean, being cruel. I hate being judged constantly for my actions. I would never purposely hurt someone to improve my social standing. Sure, everyone has moments of b*tchiness or not getting along with someone, but unnecessary hatred isn’t something I need more of in my life. I’ve managed to stay pretty true to myself despite my look and attitude when I’m with Matt.

  Kristie always jokes that there was ‘Anna’ and there was ‘Elle.’ Although we laughed about it, it is kind of true.

  ‘Anna’ is the golden girl, Matt’s girlfriend, one of the ‘popular’ kids, the image of a perfect all-American girl, but then there’s Elle. She is the real me, the girl who is too scared to show her true self, who has so many years of hatred and pain that she no longer enjoys life. The girl that only a few people really knows, who loves music and dancing and never wants to be in the spotlight.

  That’s me, but it all comes under the name Annabelle.

  Although, my father is the only person to call me that.

  Matt used to call me Elle, but that stopped a few years ago when he realised my father hated it. That’s exactly why Kristie liked calling me Elle—just to annoy him. She called me Elle for years before that, too, but it’s now like a second personality for me.

  I’m now just a few metres away from the front door of the high school, and I can already see the change; it sounds louder, more excitement in the air, and the entrance is crowded with people who I’ve never seen before.

  East Bay has arrived.

  Their clothes are the first thing that I notice—leather jackets and pieces that catch the eye, funky patterns, fitted forms; things that no one here has the confidence to wear. Second is their skin. For most of them, it seems to glow as they move. The sunlight glints off it as if honey runs through their flesh. The tanned canvas only helps to bring out the striking colours that they wear.

  Some of them are smoking, which is something that hardly anyone at our school does. It never gave anyone a very good image, and Matt forbade me from even trying it, let alone stand on the front steps of our school doing it, but even with the glances thrown their way, they seem to not care.

  They all seem so . . . comfortable with themselves. Like they are already top of the food chain.

  As I walk closer to them, the clicking of my heels must catch their attention because one of them starts to nudge the person beside them, not being so subtle in directing their attention to me.

  I scoff under my breath and thank my sunglasses yet again. I couldn’t be bothered with their attention; it was caveman-like to stand and ogle girls and being in a group just made it worse.

  Did any man truly believe that it would work?

  I straighten my back and lift my chin higher, determined to walk strongly past them and not let their stares affect me, but as I near them, my pulse jumps.

  “Bring that ass over here!” one yells.

  “You look like an angel. You fall from heaven?” another calls as I begin to climb the steps.

  Although my heart is racing at their words and their crude attitude should make me want to turn away, a feeling inside me keeps making me want to go over to them, to look and see. It’s the same feeling I’ve had since I heard they were coming here, and I quickly put it down to curiosity. They are so different from the guys around here. No wonder I want to have a closer look.

  Whatever it is, it makes me look at them again, and as soon as I do, I regret it. There’s a guy that I hadn’t seen the first time I looked, and now, I wonder how he hasn’t already caught my eye.

  He’s gorgeous, to say the least. His olive skin and dark features only add to the aura that seems to be surrounding him; it’s one I would even call dangerous and mysterious. I can’t draw my eyes away from him as he towers over the other males around him, but maybe that is what he wants.

  He turns to look at me. Despite my glasses, I feel his gaze connect with mine, causing the breath from my lungs to be ripped away and my legs shake beneath me.

  Stumbling as I take a step, I try to correct myself but it’s to no avail. I feel my heel catch on an edge in the ground, and I go flying forward, my face heading straight for the hard ground.

  Automatically, I put my hands out to try and limit the impact that my face will take as it scrunches in preparation.

  How embarrassing.

  But the pain never comes.

  Instead, I feel a jolt, and
my sunglasses fly as it crashes to the ground, but my face stays safely at least a foot away from the hard surface as my body hovers over it. I suddenly realise that there are hands wrapped around my midsection, then I’m being gently placed on my feet, tingles erupting as fingertips graze against my skin.

  Oh no.

  As I’m steadied, the hands don’t remove themselves. I cautiously start to trail my eyes up, taking in the person’s tanned skin and toned chest covered in a leather jacket.

  My breathing seems to halt as I reach a jaw that, if not for the tiny hairs of stubble peeking through, I might just be entitled to believe have been carved from stone. I follow the dip of their chin and find their lips—soft and smooth.

  It’s slightly open as if frozen in time.

  Finally, I reach their eyes. Any strength that I thought remained in my body seems to give way, my words melting in a puddle at my feet.

  They’re golden—a glowing colour that almost seems unnatural. Stunning, but no less slightly frightening as they stare at me, making me feel like they can see inside my mind and read my deepest secrets. Dark lashes and arched brows accompany them. As they raise, I know exactly who has caught me.

  It’s him. The guy I had been staring at.

  I don’t move. It feels as if the world has stopped, and he and I are alone. It washes over me and beckons me into his arms, like he is everything that I have been waiting for, like this whole time I was missing him and never even knew.

  I quickly shake myself out of that thought and take a step back from the guy, putting some distance between us and forcing his hands to drop.

  Matt would have a field day if he saw me.

  I clear my throat and tuck my hair behind my ear, trying not to look into the stranger’s eyes. “Thank you for that. I appreciate you not letting me fall.”

  He doesn’t respond as he takes in my entire body.

  “Maybe it has to do with the death traps on your feet?” he eventually offers. My body tenses at the depth of his voice, like the bass of a symphony.