by Liv Reid
“Yeah.”
I reach over and grab the keys that are already stuck in the lock and open the door.
“You sure?” she asks skeptically, as she sees my shaking hands.
“I’m fine, Ruby. Thank you. I just need to get home and rest. I’ll be fine.” And besides, there is no other alternative. It’s not like I can call a taxi or anything. Firstly, I don’t have the money. And even if I did, there is no way a taxi would come to this side of town in the middle of the night. I have to drive home.
“Ok, be safe,” she says and starts walking back.
I get into my car and pull out of the parking space. I stop to watch her walk back into the diner because I want to make sure nothing happens to her. When her tall frame disappears into the grungy building, I quickly speed away.
Ruby has always been a great friend to me ever since I started working at the diner a couple of years ago. When I was the new girl, she took me under her wing and showed me the ropes. She would protect me when the other waitresses, the customers—even Ricky—picked on me.
She’s my closest friend now, but we haven’t talked a lot about our pasts. It’s too painful. When you end up at a place like Ricky’s Diner, clearly something tragic has happened to you.
Before my dad died, I had dreams and promises of a bright future. I went to an exclusive prep school and was on my way to becoming a doctor, but those days are long behind me. This is my life now, and I have to accept it.
I soon pull into the empty dirt lot next to my building that we use as a parking lot. My car whines as the metal bottom scrapes against some of the larger stones sticking out of the ground. Usually I’m more careful, but today I can’t get my mind off my past.
I live on the top floor of a three-story apartment complex that’s built kind of like a motel. The building has seen better days, and I’m surprised it hasn’t been condemned by the city yet.
When I open the door to my apartment, I see my two roommates huddled around our broken coffee table, clearly injecting themselves with something. I don’t acknowledge them, and they don’t even realize I’m there as I walk past and down the hall to my room. I make sure to keep my shoes on so my socks don’t touch the dirty carpets.
I unlock the padlock I’ve attached to my door to keep people from breaking in and stealing my stuff. My tiny room is a little haven of cleanliness and peace in a filthy apartment, in a filthy building, on a filthy block. My sanctuary. The only safe place I have in my life. I re-lock my door and walk over to collapse on my bed.
The envelope and business card feel like a heavy weight in my pocket, demanding my attention. I sigh angrily. I can’t put it off any longer.
I pull them out and look at them. How could such innocent-looking things cause so much hurt and anger? They are just small pieces of paper. They can’t physically hurt me, but when I see the Aston seal on the back in red wax, it’s like a knife to the gut. The pain is so real. It’s like ripping a bandaid off and exposing an unhealed wound.
I need to get this over with. I want to just throw the letter in the garbage, but Ruby’s right. I need to see what it says, otherwise I’ll spend my life wondering.
I crack the wax and pull out a single sheet of thick white paper. On it is typed—was this done by a fucking typewriter? I wonder incredulously. But during my time at Sycamore Heights Prep, I learned that rich people do some weird shit, so I wouldn’t be surprised. On it is typed the offer the guy in the parking lot told me about.
Dear Violet Miller,
We hope this letter finds you well.
We wanted to extend an offer of academic support to you. We understand that due to monetary limitations you have not been able to continue your studies after your father’s unfortunate passing. We are aware of your academic talents. We would not want such talent to be wasted if you were not allowed to continue your scholarly pursuits.
We have therefore decided to offer you our full monetary support to allow you to attend Crowned College for four years. We have made an arrangement with the school and based on your previous academic history they have made an exception in regards to the admission requirements. They are allowing you to start as a freshman this coming September. We will provide you with all of your living expenses, including housing and a monthly allowance, as well as providing for tuition.
Please consider the matter and get back to us as soon as possible so that we may start making arrangements.
Sincerely,
The Aston Family
At “your father’s unfortunate passing” I crumple the paper and throw it across the room. It’s such a small area that the paper bounces off the wall and lands back on my bed.
How fucking dismissive can you be? My father was murdered. It wasn’t an “unfortunate passing”.
I take out my phone and start scrolling aimlessly. It’s old and has a big crack in the screen. I’m not really looking at anything because my mind keeps wandering angrily back to the offer.
For my entire life, I’ve wanted to be a doctor—an obstetrician, to be exact—ever since learning my mom died giving birth to me. My birth was the reason I didn’t have a mom, and I didn’t want that to happen to any other child.
Until four years ago, I was on course to achieving that goal. I was attending an exclusive private school on a scholarship, and I had perfect marks. I had conditional scholarships to several esteemed colleges. But all that fell apart when my dad died. I was devastated and couldn’t concentrate on school anymore. I ended up dropping out and had to get a minimum wage job just to be able to afford to eat.
My mind keeps bringing me back to the offer. Why would they do this? That family never liked me, but now they must hate me after I accused Mr. Aston of murder. I know that family, and they are all evil. There’s no way they are doing this out of the kindness of their hearts. Maybe they are trying to buy me off? People like that don’t feel guilt. They want something from me.
I pick the letter back up and read it end-to-end a couple more times. My eyes skip over the “unfortunate passing” part because it makes me too angry, and I just read the rest.
When I had to drop out of high school to get a job, I promised myself I would finish, and I did. Last year, after two years of night school, I finally graduated—better late than never. But my marks were nowhere near where they used to be, and I have no hope of a scholarship anymore.
All my aspirations and dreams of attending college were long dead… until I received this letter.
This was offering me exactly what I want. A second chance at becoming a doctor. Yeah, I’m a couple of years behind, but I can always catch up. School is something I understand. It’s the one thing I’m good at.
Am I really going to throw away this opportunity to get my life back on track just because I don’t like who the benefactor is? Screw them. I should take their money, go on to succeed and never look back. They aren’t buying me off, I’m using them. I’m taking back some of the power they took from me.
Ruby is right. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. There’s no other way I’ll ever become a doctor. No other way I’ll ever be able to get off the hamster wheel I’m currently on—working paycheck to paycheck just to survive.
… But I’ve already fallen so far behind.
Suddenly, a loud crash comes from the living room, and I know one of my roommates probably fell on our coffee table, completely breaking it. I hear muffled yelling and know they are fighting. I’m not surprised. It’s a nightly occurrence. This place is depressing as hell.
I look up and see the large water stain on my wall. It started as a small spot in the corner by the window, and it has slowly been growing over the months to the point now where it takes up most of my wall. I’ve tried scrubbing it, but it just comes back.
I need to get out of here. If I don’t do this now, I’ll be stuck here for the rest of my life, scrubbing a water stain that will never stop growing. Fighting against something I have no control of. Never able to get ahead.
> Suddenly, those angry hazel eyes flash through my mind. The ones that glared at me with hatred. The ones that looked at me as if they knew—but there’s no way he could have known.
I did the right thing. I did what I had to, but that doesn’t stop the guilt from eating me up every single night. Doesn’t stop the visions of those hateful eyes flashing through my mind multiple times a day.
But there’s no way he could have known I lied.
3
L
No way. No fucking way. My mother just told me they are offering that wicked liar money to attend Crowned College. What the fuck is she thinking?
She said they are trying to get Violet—I can barely stand to think her name. It makes me shiver in disgust, so I usually just call her that little liar. She doesn’t deserve a name as pretty as Violet. Her outsides may be hot as hell, but inside she’s rotten to the core. Mom said they are trying to get that little liar to withdraw her accusation against my father so he can come home. We are offering to pay for her schooling to suck up to her.
I think it’s an idiotic plan, but when my mother decides something there’s no changing her mind. Especially now, because she’s usually blackout drunk most of the day. There’s no reasoning with her.
But even if she is determined to go through with this stupid idea, why does she have to offer that little liar a place at my college? There are literally thousands of colleges in the United States. Send her to any one of those.
But mom says we have connections to Crowned College because all the Astons dating back to the eighteenth century attended it. So she was able to pull some strings and get the little liar admitted even though she’s a high school dropout. As if you need anymore of a reason for why Violet doesn’t belong, she didn’t even finish high school.
I growl in anger and throw my phone against the wall. The screen shatters on impact.
I probably shouldn’t have done that, now I have to get someone to buy me a new one. That filthy liar isn’t worth me getting upset over. I hate that she’s not even here yet, and she’s already affecting me. Bitch.
The broken phone starts ringing from the floor. I walk over and grab it. Through the infinite number of cracks in the screen, I can see it’s my mother’s number.
“What?” I bark into it.
“Logan, we are trying to rebuild the family name and this is the best way to do it,” she slurs through the line, and it just pisses me off even more. “Try to be nice to the girl. She may be a bitch, but she’s our only hope to get your father home. Try to be charming for once in your life. Be more like your brother. He would be willing to do what’s best for the family. Make her fall for you and get her to withdraw her testimony.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?? You want me to hit on her?”
“Stop being so selfish. Think of the family for once. Your brother would do it. And it’s not like you’ve been very particular with all the women you’ve bedded. This is where you draw the line?”
I clench my jaw so tightly I think my teeth might crack.
“I’m not whoring myself out for you,” I growl into the phone. “And definitely not with her.”
“This is when you decide not to be a whore, Logan?”
Before I realize it, I’ve thrown my phone against the wall again. This time it shatters to pieces and is beyond repair.
Just then, my roommate, Rhett, walks in with some chick.
“Good conversation?” he asks sarcastically, as he looks at the destroyed phone on the ground and the dent in the wall.
I wave him off. I don’t want to talk about it.
The two of them step over the pieces scattered around the floor and come into the apartment. I’m too worked up to sit down. I need to go do something. Right now I want to smash skulls and break things, but I’ll have to settle for a boxing session with my trainer to work off this tension.
I instinctively reach into my pocket to text him, but then in a split second I remember I just smashed my phone. I growl in annoyance.
The chick with Rhett is looking at me warily, and I don’t give a fuck if I’m scaring her or anything. She’s here to fuck Rhett, so go do that and leave me alone.
“What’s up, man?” he asks, his British accent even more pronounced because he’s a bit drunk. “Go wait for me in there, sweetheart.” He points to his room, and the girl dutifully goes in to wait for him. He turns back to me.
“Nice, huh?” he asks, motioning to the chick’s retreating back.
The girl is hot. I’ll give him that. She’s a curvy brunette with one of the best asses I’ve ever seen, but I’m too distracted to care about a couple of nice tits right now.
“She’s ok.” I shrug and go over to the fridge. I grab a beer and open it angrily.
“She’s ok? You’re blind, man. Seriously, what’s up? Something must be really wrong if you’re having trouble appreciating an ass as sweet as that.”
I down the beer and then drag my fingers through my hair in frustration.
“You know that girl I told you about in high school who accused my father of murder?”
“The one you kept telling me about how hot she was?” Rhett asks, as he goes to sit on the couch.
I growl again in frustration. “I told you how much I hated her. About how I’ve always disliked her. How I always knew she was trouble. Not about how hot she was.”
“Yeah, you mentioned that too. But from the way you described her, she sounded hot.”
“—Whatever,” I cut in. “She ruined my family. She sent my father on the run. She ruined our reputation so we have to constantly scramble just to keep from loosing everything. Our name used to mean something until she opened her little mouth and lied.”
Fuck, talking about “ruining our family’s name” and stuff, I sound just like my mom or my brother. I don’t really care about that shit.
I’m too worked up to sit down, so I just pace back and forth across the room.
“Sit down, man. You’re making me nauseous,” Rhett drawls.
I go sit restlessly on the edge of the couch. My knee won’t stop bouncing. I want to be moving. I want to be doing something. I hate just sitting here being useless. I want to go beat the shit out of some guy to get rid of this energy.
“Ok, so this chick who you don’t think is hot, what about her?” Rhett asks.
“Rhett, come to bed.” The brunette comes out of Rhett’s room wearing only her bra and panties.
She gets one look at me and her eyes go wide. She quickly scurries back inside. I’m so angry and on edge I’m sure I look terrifying—but I don’t care.
“Be there in one second,” Rhett calls to her before turning back to me. “These freshmen just keep getting more and more aggressive. It’s awesome! You don’t have to do any work to get them into bed. I love it.”
“My mom is offering to pay for her to attend school here.”
“At Crowned College?” Rhett asks in surprise.
I nod.
“Isn’t it hard to get in here or something? What is this school coming to? Like why did my parents pay a ‘generous donation’ to get me in here if they’ll let just anyone in?”
“That’s not the fucking point! I can’t have her here. I haven’t seen her in four years, and I never want to see her fake innocent-looking face ever again. I can’t have her going to school here, Rhett. I can’t see her every day. I fucking hate her.”
My head falls into my hands, and I angrily run my fingers through my hair. She destroyed my father’s life. She ruined my family. She tried to destroy my brother. I fucking hate her.
“That sucks, man,” Rhett says, but I can tell he wants to get to the hot piece of ass dressed only in lingerie and waiting for him in his room. “Listen, I know this sucks, but is there anything you can do about it?”
I shake my head. I can’t stop my mother once she decides something.
“Try not to worry about it then.” He slaps me on the back.
“I’m going to destroy her,�
�� I say quietly.
“That’s the spirit!” He slaps me again. “Make her regret coming here.”
“I’m going to make her regret being born.”
Rhett laughs. “This is the Logan I like. Not the sulking, brooding one. Want me to see if my girl has a hot friend she can call for you? Get your mind off that bitch.”
“No. I’m going to go for a walk.”
“Alright, man. Anything else I can do?”
“Nah, I’ll be fine. Go have fun with your girl.”
As I leave the apartment, I hear Rhett announce loudly when he enters his room, “Daddy’s home!”
I can’t believe she’s coming here.
I walk along my usual paths, towards the pond and forest on the far side of the campus. I’ve walked these paths hundreds of times. It’s been my habit ever since I was a kid to go for long walks in the middle of the night to clear my head. I need this time alone to think.
What I’m thinking about is her. That short, curvy girl with the long auburn hair. Those violet eyes—what a stupid name, Violet, for a girl with violet-colored eyes. Did her parents have no imagination?
Those violet eyes haunt my nightmares. Those eyes make me burn.
She came in to my life when her dad started working for our family as a gardener. The first day I saw her, I knew I wasn’t going to like her. She looked so sweet and innocent—oh, what a lie that was. I wasn’t surprised to find out she was just like every other girl. She just wanted to fuck her way into our family and get a piece of our wealth.
Even before she falsely accused my father of murder, she accused my brother of bullying her. They had gone out on a couple of dates because she tricked him into thinking she was one of the good ones, even though she was dirt poor and he should have been smarter. He should have known what she was after from the start.
When my brother finally broke things off with her, because he could tell she was only in it for his money, she tried to ruin him. She spread lies about him when she realized she couldn’t trap a rich guy. I know girls like that. I’ve met a ton of them, and a lot of them have tried to trap me, so I wasn’t surprised.
