"She hurt you?"
"She bit me."
He laughs miserably, and I peel the soaked fabric away from his arm. Fuck. He's still bleeding.
"You need to get that looked at," I mutter. "I can call a private doctor, someone who won't speak of this to anyone."
"No," Anders shakes his head firmly. "I'm going to the hospital. I won't tell anyone what's happened, but Master Booth... You need to get her under control. She was like a wild animal today."
My mouth sets in a thin line and I give him a curt nod, getting up to call him a cab. I tell him a car will be waiting in ten minutes, then linger in the room, both of us knowing what I must do next.
"You need to go see her," Anders speaks up again. "She got upset because she missed you."
"Yeah," I mutter. "I will."
Still, I don't move away from the window where I'm standing, staring out into the darkness.
"Anders," I say. "Do you think she'll get better?"
He thinks it over before finally saying, "If your well-wishes alone could make her better, she already would be. But like I said - I think she needs professional help. And then maybe there will be some hope... But we can't give her that here."
The headlights of the cab I called flash outside, and Anders gets up to leave. I shake his uninjured hand and wish him luck at the ER. I wish I could come with him, but I have something else that needs to be done first.
I need to go see her.
I climb the stairs slowly, taking my time to ponder what I'm going to tell her. I'm running out of ideas on how to make this easier for her. Some days, she's almost back to her old self. She's sarcastic, witty and sweet - the girl I fell in love with when I saw her for the very first time. But other days, she's overtaken by the anger, pure rage seeping through every pore as she claws me with her long fingernails. I wish she could balance it all out. I wish I could help her. I wish there was a magic pill she could take to fix everything that's happened. But there isn't. All we have is now. This moment, trapped in time forever, with her closed behind that door wailing for me every second of every day.
None of this is her fault.
And the man who ruined her will pay for what he did. The plan has been set into motion. The price is still waiting to be paid.
I come to a stop in front of her door, laying a palm on the cold wood. I can't hear anything from inside, but I know as soon as I open the door, the screaming will begin. Taking another deep breath, I unlock the many locks on the door and walk into the lion's den.
She's not on me in seconds, and it takes me by surprise to find her crumpled in a corner. She's wearing another one of her beautiful dresses, a fuchsia color this time, with her makeup and hair perfectly done. But she just sits there like a broken doll, a painting, a sculpture. She's so far gone I don't know if anything can bring her back to me.
I kneel next to her, taking her small hand in mine. She's shivering, her eyes staring into nothing. I watch as a tear slips down my cheek and hate myself for becoming my love's worst nightmare. I've let her down. I'm no better than the rest of the people who put her in this spot, the people who fucking ruined her life. I'm goddamn scum. She'll never forgive me for this, for these years of captivity. And she shouldn't.
"What happened?" I whisper into her ear. "Why did you hurt Anders?"
She doesn't respond, just buries her head in the crook of my arm. I cradle her against me, sitting down on the bare floor and holding her close to me. Her skin is covered in angry welts and bruises again. After years of being on the receiving end, she's started doing it to herself, hurting that pretty body that I'm responsible for.
We've tried everything.
We've restrained her.
Threatened her.
Tried to give her attention to take her mind off hurting herself.
Nothing has worked so far, and with every new bruise that blooms on her porcelain skin, I hate myself more for doing this to her.
I settle down next to her, going back to the one thing that always works.
"Do you want to hear a story?" I ask her, and she nods eagerly, instantly awoken from her reverie, back with me in present time.
"About a princess?" she asks hopefully.
"A beautiful princess," I nod with an affectionate smile.
"Tell me," she begs, settling against me with her eyes glued to mine.
So eager, so beautiful.
So goddamn broken.
"Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess," I begin. "She had everything in the world she could possibly wish for. She had loving parents, a handsome boy who loved her, and she lived in a beautiful kingdom with loyal subjects."
Her eyes flutter open and closed as she listens intently.
"One day, a very bad man arrived in the kingdom," I go on softly. "He wanted to hurt the princess. He wanted to hurt her for his own gain. But the handsome boy protected her. He made sure nobody could get to her. He locked her in the highest tower of all the land, where nobody would find her. He hid the key, but he visited the beautiful princess every day."
"Every day?" she repeats, and I nod, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
"Every single day," I go on. "The boy and his trusty servant made sure the princess was safe. And they all knew one day, she would be able to go back to her real life. To see the kingdom again."
"One day," she says. "Soon?"
"Soon," I lie smoothly, hating myself for how good I've gotten at it. "And the kingdom will be waiting, beautiful and majestic just as it always was."
"Does everyone miss the princess?"
"They do," I nod. "They miss her very much."
My phone vibrates in my pocket, but I ignore it.
"The princess' friends and subjects are awaiting her return eagerly. But the princess knows she needs to stay hidden, so the bad man doesn't hurt her."
"Maybe he wouldn't." Her voice is so fucking hopeful it kills me. "Maybe he wouldn't want to hurt her anymore. It's been so long..."
"He's a bad man," I remind her.
Her fingers tighten against my shirt. In moments, she goes from the pretty, innocent girl she was into a banshee. She stands up, screaming her head off, and I get up too, trying and failing to catch her in my outstretched arms.
"Don't, baby," I beg her. "Please, stay calm."
"Stay calm?" she roars. "I'm a fucking prisoner! You locked me in here, you sick, sick bastard! I want out! I want out, I want out, I want. Fucking. Out!"
She hammers her fists against my chest, and I try in vain to restrain her. It's like the adrenaline pumping through her veins is making her stronger. She gets like this daily, sometimes more than once. And I never know how to stop it.
But sooner or later the inevitable happens - I just have to wait it out.
Sure enough, after several minutes of her screaming, kicking, hitting and snarling at me, her body sinks against mine. The makeup she's applied so carefully is ruined now, mascara running in rivulets down her painted cheeks. She's sobbing. She's out of control. And more beautiful than ever.
It's a crime to keep her locked up.
It's a crime to not let others see her stunning face.
But I don't have a choice. I never did.
I allow her body to settle against mine, pulling her to the mattress in the corner of the room and sitting down with her in my arms. We've tried countless times to have a bed in here, but she just used it to hurt herself, slamming her body against it until she got hurt. This is the safest option.
"It's okay, it's okay, it's okay," I mutter into her hair again and again, until her restless body finally settles against mine. "Everything's going to be okay."
I don't know how long we stay like that. Minutes, maybe hours. But she allows it, and I'm grateful for it. Her breathing grows slower, she calms down and I allow myself to cradle her against my chest, shutting my eyes tightly and wishing things were easier for both of us.
She smells like lillies. I inhale her scent, filling my lungs with her
closeness. I wish things were different. I wish I could give her more.
But it's for her own safety that I keep her in here, and we both know it.
I wish she wouldn't hate me. I wish she would still see me as the boy who carries her heart in his shirt pocket, because I'll never stop being him. I'll never give up on her. I'll never stop loving her.
Making sure she's calmed down and breathing easier, I finally check my phone to find Anders' text from earlier.
It's bad news.
He'll have to stay in the hospital for a few days - he's lost too much blood. He got stitches, but the staff is worried about a possible infection. Which means I'm on my own. Fuck. This isn't good.
I sigh, pocketing my phone again and smoothing my captive's hair as she slumps against me.
"Dexter," she says, and I melt at the mention of my name on her lips, just like I always do. "Please don't leave me in here again."
"I have to," I murmur. "You know I have to. It's too dangerous for you out there."
Her eyes meet mine, looking more lucid than they have in months as she whispers, "How much longer?"
"Until the plan is completed," I say in return. "Until he's paid for what he did to you, and he can't hurt you anymore."
Her finger moves in circles on my chest, and I groan at the touch. She still makes me hard, except now I feel guilty as fuck because of it. I've never taken advantage. I have girls to take care of my dick. She knows they mean nothing to me. She knows she's the only one.
But she doesn't know how I’m starting to feel about Pandora.
"Say my name," she whispers, laying her head against my chest. "It's been so long since I heard you say it..."
I struggle with my feelings as she says it, eager to give her what she wants and torn between my love for her and the budding feelings I have for the girl I promised I’d never care for.
I kiss her forehead, her name a whisper on my lips as I lean down to mutter it in her ear.
"Lily Anna..."
Four
Pandora
I walk into the main hall of Prep fully expecting the manhunt to begin.
I stand there, with my eyes firmly closed, waiting for them to descend upon me like the vultures they are. But nothing happens. I peek out of one eye, staring out at the hall before me. Nobody's even looking at me.
My brows knit together in confusion. How can this be possible? Surely everybody knows by now. But nobody says a word to me as I make my way to my first classroom of the day. There is no snickering, no whispered gossip. I make my way to the right wing of Prep uninterrupted, and slide onto a seat with a heavy sigh of relief.
"Girl!"
I turn around to find Araminta bending over the desk behind me, popping her gum.
"What?"
My heart speeds up, making me panic again. Shit. Does she know something? Please, please, don't let anybody know. Father would kill me if news got around. I stare at her, trying to discern whether she knows my secret, but her face gives nothing away.
"Is that..." Araminta reaches up to my neck, touching the silk scarf I've wrapped around my throat to hide the bruises Dexter has given me. "Is that Lily Anna's scarf?"
I touch my fingertips to the silk self-consciously.
"Yeah," I mutter. "I couldn't... find anything else."
Araminta smiles at me. It's a reaction I wasn't expecting. I was sure she'd get upset and call me out for trying to imitate her best friend, but that's not the case at all. Instead, she seems almost pleased I'm wearing it.
"Daring." She winks at me. "I like it. So, you've noticed what happens when you try and act more like her, huh?"
I laugh in surprise. She's caught on, just like I have. Before I can answer her, Araminta speaks again, reaching into the depths of her Prada handbag.
"That reminds me, I got you something. I think you'll like it a whole lot."
I narrow my eyes as she pulls out an old-fashioned diary with a lock dangling from it. I take it from her hands, weighing the purple notebook.
"What's this?"
"Lily Anna's diary," Araminta responds nonchalantly, as if it's nothing. "I thought it would be about time you got it."
"You've had this all this time?"
She ignores my question, running her hand through her pretty long locks and stifling a yawn.
"I didn't think you deserved it before. But since you've seemingly found your place now and learned how to act... maybe you'll do the right thing when you read it."
"Have you read it?" I ask, and she shakes her head no.
I'm not sure I believe her, but for now, her word is all I have.
The professor walks inside the classroom and everyone but us stands up. I nudge Araminta and she looks at me with bored eyes, as if our previous exchange is already forgotten.
"Why would you give me the diary now?" I whisper-hiss. "It's going to cause drama, and you know it."
"Because I live for it." She laughs easily, ignoring the pleading looks from our professor trying to convince us to focus on the lesson. "I just love it when the Firstborns are at each other's throats. It's so much fun, don't you think?"
I stare at her wordlessly as she twirls her pen between her lips, smiling seductively at our professor. The girl is crazy. And she really does have everyone wrapped around her little finger.
After my first class of the day is over, I head to my next one, scanning the hallway for a sign of Dexter. But he's nowhere to be seen. I don't want to ask one of his classmates if he's showed up for school today - I don't want to look desperate. But as the day moves on, it becomes more and more obvious Dexter isn't here. There's a general sense of unease in the air, as if the students of Prep don't quite know what to do with themselves without their ruler.
I head into my etiquette class and am already sitting at my designated desk when the professor walks in with someone I don't recognize. Instantly, my eyes shoot up and devour the stranger standing in front of the blackboard.
"Class, Easton Brantley has returned from his year abroad," the professor announces while the boy stares at us, evaluating us one by one with his calculating gaze and cool smirk. "He will be joining the classes of the first-year students. Please Easton, find a seat."
I'm still examining the boy, but my heart has already sped up at the sight of him. He's handsome - but who the hell isn't at Prep. With his chestnut brown hair, light grey eyes and pale complexion, he looks like a sculpture. His lips are almost too full for a boy, but there's a cruel tilt to his head that makes me think he doesn't take any nonsense, from anyone. He's tall and slender, with the faint hint of muscles stretching his Prep uniform. His hair falls into his eyes in an endearing way that makes me think he needs a haircut. And now, his eyes have stopped scanning the crowd before him, and have settled on mine.
He watches me, his lips gently curving upward as he heads directly for me. I take a sharp breath, convinced he's going to collide with my desk, but instead, he picks the desk in front of me, sliding into his seat, but not before giving me a knowing smile. His hair curls at the nape of his neck. It's kind of cute.
For the rest of the lesson, my eyes are glued to Easton Brantley. He's the missing piece of the puzzle, the last of the Firstborns. And he's just as handsome as the others, with an added air of mystery that makes my skin prickle in excitement.
Surely he knows who I am? I'm certain he will come speak to me as soon as this class is over. I realize I'm eager to hear his voice and hear how it matches up to his handsome looks, and the thought makes me blush just as the bell announces the end of our lesson.
I stare at him expectantly as I pack up my things to head to the next class, but he doesn't even turn around to look at me. Instead, he puts his things in a leather backpack and heads out with some of the guys in our class.
"Dream on, P," Araminta speaks up from behind me, and I turn to face her. "Trust me, he's not interested. Not in any of us."
I mutter, "Was I that obvious?"
"You and every other girl a
t Prep," Araminta sighs. "But he doesn't even notice us. Must be all those years he spent in Switzerland. American girls are like, invisible to him now."
My cheeks burn with shame I refuse to acknowledge.
"Does he hang out with Dexter and the others?" I ask, trying hard to hide the hopeful note in my voice.
"Oh, as if," Araminta laughs. "You'll see, kid. Just wait."
"What for?"
"The drama." She looks giddy with excitement. "It's really going to kick off now."
* * *
I swallow another bite of the gourmet carbonara I picked up in the lunch line. The cafeteria lady looked at me like I was crazy - I have a feeling they don't get a whole lot of pasta eaters in Eden Falls. Most of these girls are on diets stricter than my father's regimen for his own children. I'm eating by myself again, which suits me just fine and gives me a few minutes of peace before my next lesson begins.
Sneaking a look around the room, I don't notice anyone familiar. It really seems as if Dex is a no show today, which twists my insides with worry. But at least he hasn't told anyone what happened - nobody knows he ripped away my innocence, scarring me forever.
I reach inside my bag, pulling out the diary Araminta gave me. It's still locked, and I test the small lock with my bobby pin but can't manage to unlock it. I'm sure I could just snap it off with a pair of pliers, but it feels disrespectful to Lily Anna to do that.
I set the small purple notebook on the table next to me, leaving my palm on the front as if to protect it. A moment later, the notebook is suddenly snatched from beneath my fingers, and I look up as a cry of outrage rips itself from my lips.
"Looking for this?" Caspian waves the notebook in front of me, and I narrow my eyes.
"Give it back," I demand right away.
"Ooh, is the new girl keeping a diary?" Julian approaches us now, his handsome mouth open in a cruel smile. "I would love to know what kind of things she's written about me."
"I wouldn’t mind reading it myself." Lai joins them, smirking at my hopeful face as he takes the journal from his friend, squinting at the lock. "I'm sure I can break this puny little lock in a matter of seconds. What kind of secrets will I find out if I peek in here, little Pandora?"
A Hurt So Sweet Volume Two: A Dark High School Bully Romance Page 3
