Black Knight (Royal Elite Book 4)

by Rina Kent

  19

  Kimberly

  The following three days pass in a daze. It’s like they’re happening, but they’re not.

  Not really.

  I told Elsa I’m down with the flu and skipped today.

  Truth is, I’m down with myself.

  It’s one of those times where everything is too much. The air, the sounds, the people.

  All of it.

  I stare at the empty crisp bags surrounding me and wipe the salt from my lips.

  Technically, it’s called a food breakdown, where you eat everything and anything in sight. Not my M&M’s and pistachio gelato, though. Those are sacred and I didn’t want to ruin them in this unholy site.

  So after I dropped Kir at Henry’s house for a sleepover, I went to the grocery store and got all the crisps and the cola – not diet. Then I went to McDonald’s and ordered the biggest menus of burgers and French fries. I finished the shopping journey by buying more pastries and cake than I could carry. Lots of damn cake. I shoved them all down my throat in no particular order. I just ate and ate and ate until my jaw hurt and my stomach protested, but I didn’t stop.

  Even after the puking, I brought my stash with me to the toilet and continued eating and eating and fucking eating as if the food will somehow sew the hole inside me.

  It didn’t.

  So I drank half a bottle of tequila and had a Xanax pill – or was it two?

  I lost count after I vomited everything I ate. The alcohol was definitely after the vomiting, because it sits on an empty stomach like pure, burning acid.

  This time, I didn’t have to stick a finger in my throat. It’s as if my body is rejecting food because it’s become a foreign entity.

  I lay my head on the closed toilet after I finish emptying my stomach for the second time. My gaze keeps filtering to the glinting metal amongst the mess. There isn’t any energy in me to stand and freshen up anymore. I just want to stay here and…disappear.

  That’s it, disappear. How hard would it be?

  The ironic part is, it’s not even because of what happened with Xan – or didn’t happen.

  I can survive that, his rejection and his complete closing off. What I can’t survive is the hope I had that night, the feeling of finally having a purpose.

  For my entire life, I’ve struggled with that, with finding a place and someone I can bare myself to.

  Xander gave me that. He saw me, and unlike what I’ve always feared, he didn’t hate what he saw.

  But then he pulled the carpet from under my feet.

  Finding somewhere to belong just to realise you never do is like a betrayal. Perhaps, it’s the worst type of betrayal.

  Maybe that day I abandoned him in the forest, Xander felt betrayed, too, and that’s why he’s been taking revenge ever since.

  I understand that – I think I can anyway. I just can’t pretend it’s not affecting me or that I can be strong.

  What’s being strong even like?

  Is it waking up in the morning and not looking at the sharp blade I stole from Mari’s kitchen? Is it smiling while FaceTiming Dad, even though I want to scream at him to return? Is it forcing myself to look in the mirror so I can have my makeup done?

  Or maybe it’s staring at my knight in the eyes and having a stranger staring back at me and not flipping there and then.

  Once upon a time, he used to be mine. Now, he’s anything but.

  The fog turns thicker with every breath I take, wrapping itself like a noose around me.

  For the first time in my life, I have no energy or will to fight it.

  I have absolutely nothing to lose, and everything to suffer.

  “What the hell, Kimberly?” Mum’s voice rings like an alarm before her shadow falls over me in the bathroom.

  Like a small kid with broken wings, I crawl up so I’m sitting and face her. No idea how I look. I’m wearing my pyjamas and my hair is in a messy bun. I put mascara on this morning, so it could be smeared all over my face. I didn’t check, because the thought of seeing that face made me want to ruin it.

  Mum, however, has on her designer trousers with a khaki shirt and Louboutin heels. Her rich brown hair is elegant and with a beautiful wave to it.

  “Hi, Mum,” I slur, then slap a hand over my mouth.

  I’m drunker than I predicted. Oops.

  “Have you been drinking?” She shakes her head and points at the food containers, the half-empty crisp bags “And what is that junk food? What did I say about losing that weight, Kimberly?”

  “I’m sorry.” My chin trembles. “I’m sorry I’m a disappointment, Mum. I’m sorry you have to be stuck with someone like me.”

  With every word out of my mouth, tears stream down my cheeks. They’re not only tears, though. They’re everything I’ve felt since I was a child.

  Every time Mum is in sight, I feel so small; I dress wrong, breathe wrong, act wrong.

  I exist wrong.

  “If you’re sorry, fix it.” She stares down her nose at me. “Be worthy of being my daughter for once in your useless life.”

  I nod frantically. “I’ll fix it.”

  She does another glance over and her lips thin in a line, in disgust, in disappointment, in distaste.

  Mum isn’t seeing me or the scar that’s visible since my pyjamas are short-sleeved. She doesn’t see the tears pooling in my eyes or the screams behind those tears.

  She’s seeing a mess that she’s stuck with. She’s seeing someone who can ruin her image.

  That’s all that I’ve been to her since I was born, a liability, a damn mistake.

  I heard her tell Dad that last year, around the time my mental health took a sharp dive and the fog became my constant companion.

  We shouldn’t have let her come into the world. Look at her. She’s a mess, Calvin.

  Dad fought with her and stood up for me, but I don’t remember his words. It’s strange how the human mind only focuses on certain things, but not others, how I can only remember her saying I’m a mess, but not Dad calling me an angel.

  Perhaps it’s because I’ve always craved attention she’s never given, love she’ll never grant, and care she’s not capable of.

  Still, I find myself begging her with my eyes.

  Look at me, Mum.

  Help me.

  Be my mum.

  She turns around and leaves without as much as a glance. On her way out, she mutters to herself, “What have I done to deserve this?”

  A strong wave of nausea hits me and I open the lid, clutching the sides with both hands, and heave until nothing comes out. I’m dizzy, and I feel as if I’ve been vomiting my soul aside from my gut.

  The fog invades the bathroom like a being. It has a large body, all filled with black smoke while its invisible hands wrap around my throat.

  Fix it, Kimberly.

  Be worthy of being my daughter for once in your useless life

  Look at her. She’s a mess.

  Mum’s words tighten the imaginary noose around my neck, or is it imaginary? Maybe those are the words I’ve always needed to hear. Those are everything I am.

  A loser, rubbish. No one wants you.

  You’re nothing. How about you become nothing?

  Those voices heighten and tighten around my chest like thorns, prickling away at my heart.

  Disappear from my fucking life.

  Xander’s words are like that last stab. It’s not even the strongest one, but it’s the most fatal.

  Since we were children, he’s been my sanctuary against Mum. Not only did he take that away, but he also took his position as my support, my safe haven.

  Then he pretended I didn't exist.

  He’s even worse than her. At least she never pretended to care about me.

  He showed me the world, then pushed me off the edge.

  He painted the stars into the dark sky, then pulled them down in one go.

  When we were young and I told him I loved stars, he got me one, a special star. It’s from
an actual star, he said. He stole it from his dad and I should keep it a secret.

  I dig into my pocket and bring out the bracelet with the ugly black motif in the middle.

  He said it’s ugly on the outside, but only because it travelled planets to be with me, just like he always will.

  Liar.

  I retrieve my phone and type the text I always wanted to send him but never had the courage to.

  Could be the alcohol or the pills or both.

  Kimberly: I wish you were never my friend. I wish you had never told me you’d be there for me. I wish you didn’t know so much about me and still chose not to be with me. I wish there was never me or you or us.

  I let the phone fall to my side.

  The fog’s hold on my neck turns into rope, tight and hard.

  It’s a place where everything and anything are possible. The world is at the tip of my finger, so I take it.

  Reaching under the empty bags of crisps, I bring out the blade. It’s been there the entire time with the food and the alcohol and the pills – the ones Mum didn’t see, because she never sees me.

  When did it start getting so bad so fast? When did I start losing myself this hard and with no way to come out?

  Is this how it feels when nothing is left and it’s all just…fog?

  Fog doesn’t tell lies. The fog has been here many times before when I’ve lost myself to that impulse and I couldn’t get out.

  Or is it an impulse?

  Maybe it’s what I was always supposed to do.

  This time, my hand doesn’t tremble; it’s steady and precise. This time, I don’t cry and look at the door expecting, hoping Mum will come here and tell me she’s here for me.

  This time, it’s all over.

  I slice through the veins vertically in two long, swift moves. At first, it’s just a sting. I feel it, but I don’t at the same time.

  Blood oozes out in a steady rhythm, red and vibrant. With it, all the pain filters out and it’s…relief. Complete utter relief.

  But it’s not enough.

  So I cut harder, not horizontally like a newbie, but vertically and deep until blood splashes in a small fountain all around me.

  It’s a mess, just like Mum said.

  Maybe she’ll call it a mess, too, when she finds me.

  Dizziness assaults me almost immediately. My gaze is focused on the blood as my head lolls back against the wall. I try to concentrate on the wound and how it purges the fog out of me, how it frees me, but all I see is that bracelet and that stupid star.

  The star I didn’t have the chance to wear, because I was always scared he’d take it away.

  Now, nothing will.

  Now, I’m the one taking everything and leaving it empty. The fog slowly dissipates, but no one comes through, no one barges through the door and tells me not to go.

  Maybe it’s because I was always meant to go.

  The sound of everything ending is just that…the end.

  A tear slides down my cheek as I close my eyes and surrender to the darkness.

  20

  Xander

  Today has been a clusterfuck since the morning.

  Or maybe my life has been a clusterfuck since the beginning and I’m only starting to see it.

  Dad and I had the talk about rehab – secret, of course, because he can’t risk his political enemies or the press finding out that his loser son is detained.

  Obviously, I said no. Then he reminded me of Mum’s drinking problems and that I’m becoming like her.

  So I told him, I wish I’d stayed with my mum and her drinking and mental problems and not with him.

  He gave me a strange look, something that made me kind of regret what I said, then he left.

  I shouldn’t feel sorry about Dad; he should be feeling sorry towards me. He ruined my life in more ways than one, and I don’t even mean with Mum.

  He did something way worse that’s been slowly but surely destroying my life.

  After all, he’s Lewis Knight. If he can survive the parliament’s questioning, he can survive his son.

  Then I kind of tried to beat Cole and Aiden up for allowing Kimberly to come to my room that night and instigating it. I have no doubt in my mind that they’re the reason behind it.

  Cole just laughed and said, ‘so something did happen’. Aiden smirked like a fucking psycho and patted me on the back.

  I was too drunk to hit them anyway, so it ended up being half-arsed punches.

  They might have prepared the ground, but I was the one who kissed her, claimed her tongue, ate her like a starved animal, then fucked her mouth as if it’s always belonged to me.

  My insides shrink at the thought, at the memory, at what the fuck I’ve done.

  I lied to her.

  There’s no way I can pretend it didn’t happen. For three days, that night is all I’ve been thinking about.

  I can lie to myself and say that it’ll wither away with time, but like all my memories with her, they’ll just strengthen and magnify, and all I’ll want to do is to bust into her room and repeat it for eternity.

  Fuck you, twisted up mind. You should burn with Cole.

  As if my week hasn’t already been complete shit, I’m also sitting with none other than the main bastard whose murder I’ve been plotting for a while now.

  Ronan and I are at the Meet Up because the captain called a meeting for the football players. I’m ready for anything that’ll stop me from acting on my impulses.

  I might have had a drink on the way here, but it’s only one. I’m not losing my mind enough to not recognise that the fucker, Cole, set us up.

  Ronan is grinning like a fucking idiot as he sits opposite me. My fist clenches to pound him to the ground.

  “Long time no see, Knight. You know, remotely sober.”

  “Fuck you, Astor.” I stare anywhere but at him.

  The Meet Up is a small cottage owned by Aiden with direct access to the forest and a lake at the back. It’s cosy with warm wooden colours. The four of us always come here to escape our families. There’s something liberating about shedding our confinements and our names and the shit expected of us.

  We were taught what we should become before we learnt what it was like to be kids. That’s probably why we were never actually children.

  Young in bodies. Elderly in minds.

  I recall when Elsa brought Kimberly here for the first time. She watched the space with wonder in her green eyes. It’s the same look she has when reading her books and watching her dramas.

  For years, I made it a point to separate her from the group because if she was close to my friends, she’d be close to me, and I couldn’t do that.

  Until I fucked it up.

  I might have ignored her for the past few days, but she’s been the only one I see. The only one I watch. The only one who exists in a sea of blurry existences.

  There are people and there’s her. And she always shines bright amongst them.

  “Why has she been absent today, Knight?”

  “I’m not her fucking guardian.” I made it a point not to watch her today, if I don’t count the time she picked up Kirian. I was watching him, not her.

  “You’re right, I should visit and ask myself.” He grins. “After all, we’re dating.”

  “Or I can beat you up.” I smile back.

  “Fine. Get all that energy out. The faster you’re finished, the sooner I’ll go to her.”

  “What the fuck is wrong with you, Astor? Since when do you care about her this much?”

  “Since you don’t care, mon ami. I’m all for tortured heroines.”

  A sigh rips from me. “It’s not what you think.”

  “Then tell me what I don’t think.”

  I considered doing that since he started being a little fucker about this whole situation. After all, Aiden and Cole know. I only told Aiden on a drunk night, and Cole figured it out on his own.

  Astor, however, has a big mouth. If he knows, she will, and I don
’t have any state of mind to deal with that.

  “You’ll tell her.” I lift a shoulder.

  “If it’s something about her, then damn straight I’ll tell her.” He pauses. “Attend une seconde. The others know?”

  “Define know.”

  “What the fuck, Knight? I tell you all my shit.”

  “And I don’t publish it on the Daily Mail, unlike you, fucker.”

  “Well, since we’re at it.” He smiles his innocent but secretly evil smile as he stands up. “I told her about the rehab, leaving the country, and oh, that you always watch her.”

  “What. The. Fuck.”

  He glances back at me. “You know what? I’m taking her away, Knight. It’s done.”

  One moment, I’m sitting there, the next, I jerk up, crash with him to the ground, and start beating him up. This time, he doesn’t stay still and he fights me as well. We roll around, wrestling and hitting each other. A table falls and something breaks, but we don’t stop.

  “You’re supposed to be my friend, my fucking friend.” I punch him.

  “And you’re supposed to be better than this.” He punches me.

  I don’t know how long we go at it, but it’s long enough that I lose the feeling of my fists and Ronan’s mouth and nose become bloodied. Mine is probably the same, considering the burn in my bottom lip.

  We fall back on the carpet, lying side by side, breathing harshly in the silence of the room.

  “I’m just disappointed in you,” Ronan says in the most serious tone I’ve heard on him. “I hate seeing you hurt her and being hurt in return. What the fuck are you? A masochist?”

  I laugh, but it’s humourless. “Probably, yes.”

  “Your mum left because your dad hurt her. How can you repeat the cycle, connard?”

  “Believe me, it’s not the same.”

  “How so?”

  I release a sigh, and I’m about to cave in and just let it all out. I might have grown up with Aiden and Cole, but Ronan is the closest to me. We always gravitated towards each other like Aiden and Cole did. It’s nature. And ever since Ronan told me his deadly secret a few years back, I connected to him more than ever before.