The world didn’t really know her while she was in it, so honestly, it shouldn’t be that surprising that it doesn’t stir at the knowledge of her death. I do, though. So much so that before I know it, I find myself stripping out of my clothes and pushing my way into the ocean. I’m not sure whether I’m trying to find her in that moment or whether I’m trying to find myself.
I swim further and further away from the shore, only stopping when my breaths become too hard to catch. I tread water for a good minute, my head tilted up to the heavens, calling out to a god that I don’t believe in.
“It should have been me,” I wail. “It should have fucking been me.” Sara and I came into this world together, what sense does it make that one would leave and the other stay? None at all.
I curse the god I don’t believe in and then I swim some more, watching the shoreline turn into nothingness as I push myself into the abyss. When finally, I stop, I am pleased at how far away I am. So pleased in fact that I make a bet with God. If I am really to be blamed for her death, if I didn’t have a choice but to do what I did, then I won’t make it back alive.
Now, matters are in his hands. He’s supposed to be a just God, right. But he’s also supposed to be a forgiving God. I think back on that last idea and decided that I’ll make a deal with the devil too. He’ll have to go a little outside of his comfort zone though, give punishment where punishment is due. If my actions toward my sister weren’t without reason, then he can have my soul. If they are forgivable, then I’ll make it back to the shore.
My leg starts to cramp and a smile crooks the corners of my lips. There isn’t a single way in heaven or hell that I am going to make it out of this water. To say that I am happy about that is the understatement of the century.
I take a deep breath and I put the challenge into motion, swimming, stretching, doing everything possible to exhaust myself. Another cramp takes ahold of my right leg. It isn’t that bad. Definitely the kind of thing I can swim through and so I do just that, knowing that another one will come and when it does, it will be stronger. It will cripple me and I will go down, just like Sara did. Except I’ll do it without a fight because I deserve it.
My arms are starting to grow tired, my strokes slower and catching my breath makes my entire chest feel like it is on fire. There is no way I am going to make it back. It doesn’t matter if I can see the shoreline now, I still have a ways to go.
I keep on pushing. Stroke by stroke, I push myself, urging on the exhaustion. When I peek my head out of the water to take breath it feels like all the air has been sucked from the universe.
I’ve seen this exact scene play out before. Me in the water, struggling for breath, Cornelia ahead on the beach, the only other human for miles and miles and miles. It feels like some kind of terrible nightmare, or perhaps like a rightness to the past. I’m not sure what exactly the case is, but what I do know is that I’m not going to die today.
Somehow, I’m moving like a fish in water, no oxygen needed to fuel my lungs. My legs are pushing through, my strokes smooth, pushing the water away from me and propelling me forward with ease. This isn’t right. The devil and the lord can’t possibly come to the same conclusion. One of them wants me to die. That has to be the case. It just has to. As I draw closer and closer to the shore, Cornelia’s form becoming clearer with each stroke, I curse both the lord and the devil for finally being on the same team when it’s the exact opposite of what I want. Then, I pull myself out of the water and charge toward the only figure on the sand. A part of me thinks she followed me here, despite how stupid the idea is. When I finally catch wind of what she’s doing, however, I know that that isn’t the case at all.
In her hands she holds a bouquet. She knows that I’m standing close to her, but she doesn’t shift her gaze to meet mine as she continues to pluck the flowers one by one and place them in a vase she buried in the sand. This I’ve seen. People returning to the site of an accident to pay their respects to the dead.
They leave flower and candles, sometime a stuffed animal or a card. The fact that she’s the only one doing this for my sister says a lot. The fact that neither my mother, nor my stepfather nor myself thought that this was something that should have or could have been done says a lot more.
“I think the news is just going around about her death,” Cornelia says, but she doesn’t look at me as she speaks.
“What makes you think that?” I ask, my voice bitter. My heart too. “You’re the only one who seems to give a damn.”
“That’s not true,” she says. “Most people just found out this morning.”
It’s kinda hard to believe. News usually spreads like wildfire in this town. Not a lot of people, but all of them with big mouths.
“It happened so late last night and...there was a murder not too far away. So...”
“She kinda just got lost in the chaos. The other death was more important than hers. Funny and kinda sad that you’re the only one who gives a damn. You of all people,” I say, completing her statement with all the words she had no intention of using.
Finally, she snaps her eyes to me and there’s something similar to venom when she looks at me. “You don’t get to treat me like shit,” she says, finding that spine she’s been missing all throughout high school. “Not right now, Marcus. I’m sorry your sister died. I really am and I’m -”
“You shouldn’t be sorry,” I say. “She treated you like shit. I treated you like shit. We treated you like shit. To be honest, a part of me feels like maybe you’re here to mock her. Is that what this is, Cornelia? Are you here because you want to gloat? Let her see how alive you are and how dead she is, because you know what...? She’d hate the fact that you’re the one bringing her flowers.”
“She was hurting,” Cornelia said. “She treated me like shit, yes. But she was hurting. I could see it in her eyes and... she died unhappy, Marcus and it’s fucking sad because...”
She doesn’t get to finish the rest of her rant because before she can utter another word, I’ve grabbed the flowers from her hand and hurled them as far away from us as I can manage. Of course, the universe decides to take a shit on that too, because what would you know, the wind decides to pick up speed just at that moment and blows one of the flowers right into the vase Cornelia had buried in the sand.
“That goes for you too, Marcus,” she hisses at me and crosses her arms over her chest. “I don’t like you, okay. And I know that you don’t like me. That much is clear. Hell, maybe you hate me, but I don’t feel that way about you. Just like Sara, you’re sad. There’s something eating away at you; something that’s been eating away at you for a long damn time and I’m sorry that that’s the case. I’m also sorry that you haven’t yet learned that no matter how much you treat me like shit, it doesn’t take your pain away.”
Fucking genius, I think. The tone of the voice in my head makes it sound like an insult, when it’s anything but. The truth is, Cornelia has survived this world because she’s smart and because she can see through bullshit people like me. And she’ll do great in this world. She’ll leave and become everything she was meant to be and... I’ll be stuck here. Trying to move on in a town that will take me nowhere at all.
When I look at her again, the only thing that I feel is anger. And maybe jealousy. Definitely jealousy. Regret too. Yeah, there’s undeniably a lot of that. Because right now, she doesn’t understand that even though her words are only meant to defend herself, their cutting insults in me so deep that I’m surprised they haven’t yet drawn blood.
I can feel the tears stinging my eyes and the punk in me can’t bring myself to apologize, admit I’m wrong, or play nice.
Instead, I meet her eye to eye, making sure she doesn’t miss the words as I tell her to fuck off.
Chapter Six
The night was growing older and our driver was nowhere to be found. Marcus, took the liberty of ordering me something to eat.
“You’ll thank me when your hangover doesn’t kick your ass as h
ard in the morning,” he’d said. He wasn’t wrong, save for the fact that I’d get the opportunity to thank him in the morning.
Needless to say, the food did me well. By the time I was done shoveling lamb, asparagus and mashed potatoes into my mouth, my drunkenness didn’t spin as fast. I took the time then to thank him. As resistant as I knew I should have been to the charm he was throwing at me, I didn’t want to be a bitch. My momma did raise me well, after all.
We left the table, and at the suggestion of the waitress made our way to a small fire at the back of the restaurant. A thick mix of trees lined the walkway and hovered over the area above the firepit. It was just as breathtaking here as the front of the restaurant was and I watched in awe as the fire burned and sparks flew.
I took a seat on a log, crossing my legs at the ankles and allowing the warmth of the fire to attempt to soothe my soul. Marcus stayed standing for a short moment, eyeing the log on the other side before deciding against it and taking a seat beside me.
“You’re crossing boundaries,” I warned him.
“Not yet,” he said. “But I want to.”
“This isn’t your competition to win, Marcus.”
“Would it be so bad, though?” he asked, but didn’t give pause for me to answer the question. “You have no idea what it felt like seeing you after all those years. You have no idea how it felt pretending to be a bigger man than I am and walking away knowing that you’d found happiness. But now…”
“I already told you. Hearts been trampled. Time needed to heal.”
“We’re not talking in full sentences anymore?”
I shook my head. He had no idea how it felt sitting next to him after all these years. He had no idea how it felt having the one thing I’d wished for so many times as a kid come true. Here he was, not hating me, just like I’d always wanted, and I didn’t know what to do with it.
“Okay,” he said, pulling a finger to his chin. “Marcus try when heart healed.”
I looked up at him and rolled my eyes. “You’re an idiot.”
“That rings true.”
“What are you doing here, Marcus?”
“Unbreaking your heart?” he said, his voice butter soft and his hand extending to pull me against him. It wasn’t intentionally that I snuggled against his shoulder. But it wasn’t fully unintentionally either.
“I’m not a fuck up anymore, Cornelia,” he whispered. “And maybe it’s wrong of me to think that I have a shot at your heart. So if I really and truly am crossing a line here, tell me and I’ll tone it down a notch because just being your friend…that’s something too.”
Never in a million years did I expect those words to be spoken by this particular man. The world wasn’t right because of it. But somehow, those words felt like just the ones I needed to hear right now.
I sucked in a breath and pulled myself back up and away from his chest. “Friends,” I said, reaching out a hand for him to take. Marcus shook his head at me and pulled me towards his chest, hugging me like he needed the embrace a heck of a lot more than I did. His head nestled atop mine, his breath was warm as he spoke into my hair. “Thanks for bringing flowers to the beach for Sara,” he said before letting me go. When I looked at him again, his eyes were glistening with the kind of sadness I knew would forever be a part of him.
Something about him being here, all of a sudden made sense. He might have wanted to make amends, yes. But he was also here because of his sister.
Chapter Seven
When the night came to an end, I didn’t know what to think. There were so many gears moving all at the same time. So many emotions to put in place and not a single clue where they belonged.
Marcus and I shared a car back to the house and there was a pleasantness in it that was more unsettling than it needed to be. Just like everything about the night with him.
On the one hand, I was happy that I didn’t need to face Maddox. On the other hand, I didn’t know what to make of the way Marcus was acting. I was not usually one to shy away from friendship, but was a friendship with him something I really and truly needed? I wasn’t sure. And what the hell was I supposed to think about what was happening with me and Maddox?
The night spent with Marcus helped to take my mind off him a little. But the moment I stepped back inside this house, Maddox was in my every thought and every movement. It felt as though I’d wronged him by sharing a meal with Marcus. None of it made sense, of course. I didn’t owe Maddox a damn thing. But I also wasn’t the kind of girl who moved on from something without taking the proper measures to heal.
And then there was the issue of Robert. The way he had lied to me. The shit he had said about Marcus before turning around and inviting him back into the house the moment a fraction of my life fell out of place. The moment he knocked a fraction of my life out of place. I wasn’t sure what I was playing at here. This was his show and he didn’t give a damn just how many times he broke me so long as his ratings skyrocketed because of it.
There was a part of me that wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d scripted Marcus’ entire conversation; if he’d told him just how to act in order to weave his way into my life a second time.
When all was said and done, I didn’t know who the hell to trust. Marcus seemed honest in his intentions, but so did Maddox. Marcus had already wronged me before. I knew what the ugliest side of him looked like. There were warning bells ringing as loud as the big bang by the time I made it to the bedroom.
Chaos and confusion threatened to consume me and I seriously considered raising my middle finger to the camera and telling the lot of them to fuck right off. I wasn’t America’s plaything. I came here for love, not to be jerked around. The last thing I needed was to be the ‘poor little fat girl’ because that wasn’t what I was. Not at all. I’d made a life for myself on the outside. I had an education, confidence, and I was no longer a girl but a woman…a woman who had fought tooth and nail for her strength. So why the hell did I feel like I was falling apart? And better yet, why the hell was I allowing Robert to unravel me?
I moved in a daze, slamming the bathroom door before I even realized what I’d intended. As soon as the door shut, a sob escaped, and I pressed my body against the wood as if I could somehow shove the hurt and confusion beyond the unforgiving barrier. At least that way I wouldn’t have to look at it. Wouldn’t have to listen to it. But it stomped through my mind regardless, tainting every moment, every word, every shared touch and whispered secret.
What’s your next move going to be now? I wondered, locking the door and sliding down to sit on the tile floor. If I hadn’t been leaning back against it, I would have curled up on the floor. Instead, I pressed my face against my knees, disgusted when the tears soaked them in the span of seconds.
They didn’t deserve my tears.
I’d come out of this stronger.
Screw Robert.
Screw Maddox.
And if Marcus’ intentions weren’t pure, then screw him too.
My mind wandered again, slipping into my time with Maddox. There were so many signs I should have seen.
How many times had he told me that what we had was disposable, replaceable, worthless? Sure, he didn’t have to say those words out loud, but just the nonchalant attitude and the fact that he was clear about not giving a damn who he had walked down that aisle.
All the acts of kindness and romance had been designed to make me fall for him. In truth, Maddox didn’t give a shit about me. How could he? Ours was a marriage of convenience; a transaction he could present to his father as proof of a job well done.
I could have been anyone and it wouldn’t have mattered one iota. Nothing we’d had together had mattered. He would have fought for our relationship, not because he wanted me, but because his wealth was so much more important than anything else. If it hadn’t hurt so much I would have commended him. The acting involved was Oscar worthy.
It must have been hard for him, having to play house with a fat girl when women like Tammy
were a part of his everyday life. Interesting, beautiful, tough. I was nothing like the women he was probably used to. Had he laughed at the sight of my desperation, my sadness, behind closed doors? Had he pitied me? The possibility brought bile to the back of my throat and I gagged when the onslaught of tears wasn’t forcing the breath from my lungs.
‘Cornelia! Calm down.’
For some reason, my attack of nerves brought me back to a day nineteen years ago. Like that day so long ago I’d found refuge in the girl’s bathroom at school. Only that time I hadn’t been alone. I’d been crying so hard that snot ran down my face and left a bitter taste in my mouth. In that instance, I couldn’t bring myself to care. When the whole world is out to get you, what’s a little snot?
I was spiraling. There were shadows at the edge of my vision that threatened everything else and I couldn’t shake the cold snaking from my middle and growing with every wild beat of my heart. The knock shattered the cocoon that had begun to crystalize around me and I cried out in surprise. For a moment I was confused of when and where I was.
Then, a tentative “Lei?”
His voice still had the power to make me shiver and my nails bit into my arms in sudden frustration. It was bad enough that I fell for it but to still react to him even after knowing the truth…I really was pathetic.
“Go away.” Was that voice mine? It sounded hoarse and broken, like it wasn’t sure I would ever be alright.
“Can’t do that,” he said with a sigh. “If I leave you’ll go back to hating me.”
If anything, his voice grew closer and I imagined him crouching on the other side of the door.
That’s what I want, Maddox, to be able to hate you. To hate you so much that it hurts you. But that’s always been the problem with me. Too forgiving, too quick to love, and too slow to hate. I didn’t voice the sentiment. There was no point in giving him even more power over me.
Morally Imperfect: A Bully Romance (The Bully Project Book 2) Page 6
