“You’re right, but not all of us can find a French lover on the set of a Penn & Co. runway show,” I muse, pursing my lips.
“Yeah, but your guy will come. He’ll sweep you off your feet and fuck you like there’s no tomorrow.”
My mind flashes to Ross. Yesterday, he did exactly that. What if I’m not meant to have one love but four? No. There’s no way. I bite my lip as she talks about how she and Antonio are travelling across Europe for an entire month this summer. I’m excited for her. Scotty deserves a break.
She parts my hair and divides the top half into three sections. We meet a silence where I’m stuck in the thoughts that plague me and she’s trying to decide which part of my crown would layer best. After she splits it from top to bottom, she starts by dyeing the bottom first.
“So, why the change?” she asks.
“First, you want me to change it. Now you’re wondering why?” I mock, incredulously. I’m not mad, more curious why she cares. She didn’t question me when I’d gone goth, but now, she’s intrigued for some reason.
“Honestly, when you came to me wanting to go green, I thought a guy tore you up inside. Whenever teens get a drastic change, whether it be clothes, hair, makeup, or entire appearances, it’s usually heartbreak, but it wasn’t just the hair with you, it was everything, including all these piercings and tattoos. What happened?”
“My brother died,” I mutter.
It’s not an easy admission. This town covered it up. It’s almost like Cass never existed past the huge vaulted walls of our mansion.
Scotty looks at me with sadness. “That makes sense. I’m so sorry, Colt.”
I shrug, hating how it makes me feel to talk about Cass in the past tense. In my mind, he’s happy and travelling the world. In reality, I can’t bear thinking of him in the casket I was forced to watch lower into the mud.
After that, we don’t talk. She doesn’t bother me, and I’m too stuck in my head to be bothered with mundane questions.
Maybe one day, my mind won’t torture me with memories, but right now, the only thing I see is my brother’s coffin being buried and not a single one of the guys being there to comfort me.
Thirteen
Past
Cassidy’s Funeral
Pain.
You’re taught it’s something natural, that everyone will experience it from time to time. Common practices while enduring it usually tend to be crying, flinching, and discomfort.
But they never explained how loss hits the pain scale beyond measurement.
Once the moment occurs, the sadness of never again is not easily dealt with, it burdens the soul, tarnishing the light inside you. How do you cope with the unavoidable?
He’s dead.
Cassidy’s gone. Those two words don’t depict what the aftermath promised—the emptiness, the tears that won’t stop coming, the absolute endless detrimental heartbreak.
You can be taught about suffering, but no matter how much you’re told loss is part of that equation, the impact isn’t felt until you’re forced to endure it.
The dull throb in my head doesn’t compare to the resounding beat inside my chest. My knocks on the doors to the chapel are louder than the soft and melancholic rap against my ribcage.
I’m no longer me somehow.
My feet move, but my mind stays. I’m walking toward the gravesite, the family mausoleum. The grass squeaks beneath my Mary Janes. The blades are wet and damp like my eyes, the constant moisture unable to ebb and flow naturally.
Squishing is my only tether as I’m led to the final resting place of the boy who singlehandedly taught me everything.
He showed me love when my parents didn’t.
He gave me strength when my body felt desolate.
He comforted me when no one else cared.
He told me stories when I couldn’t sleep.
He was my entire livelihood in the form of a brother. He was my protector, keeper of the keys to the dungeon of my soul. He reminded me to live, and without him, I’m not sure how I’m supposed to continue to do so.
Someone’s hand wraps around my arm, but the numbness has already settled in. The care to see who it is no longer exists, but they seem to be guiding me outside the chapel to where Cassidy will be at rest.
With the sky dark above, cloudy and ill-tempered, I wait for the rain. We get it often this time of year.
Spring.
Flowers are bursting through the ground around me, but they’re alive, and Cass isn’t. It’s unfair. The flowers will be rebirthed in the future, but my brother will forever stay in a box beneath the muddy scant earth.
Dead.
Without me to be there for him like he’s always been here for me.
The tightening on my arm begins to tug, a pulling that should bring me away from the detached world I’ve latched onto, but it fails.
My eyes aren’t even truly taking in my surroundings, the misty air, the tomb marked with Cassidy’s name.
Cassidy Amos Hudson.
I get caught on the middle name I only used when angry or when he rebelled my belief of a perfect brother.
But that’s not true, is it? He’s always been a good brother, a guide through the horrible world I’ve been begotten upon, someone I could depend on, love, and know above all else. He would always be there for me.
Staring at the tombstone, I know that isn’t the case any longer. He won’t be here any longer.
It’s my fault for drinking and partying while I could have been watching him. He didn’t kill himself. The more I think of him, his life, his goals, I know that’s not his story.
“Colton,” Mom tugs, forcing me to reattach to the world around me.
I turn to her, only peering away from the grave to brace for impact.
She narrows her eyes. It’s like she remembers Cass and I shared the same hair, eyes, and most facial features.
We mirrored each other, yet he was the successful one.
Life gave him intelligence, athleticism, and hope.
It decided to steal all those attributes from me.
“Fix your face. The sermon hasn’t even begun.” Her voice is void of emotion, not struggling with pain or anything other than her annoyance with me.
With her words, the part of me which carted hope of a relationship with my parents after Cassidy’s death dies along with him.
A preacher comes. He speaks of the accomplishments my brother succeeded with, his dreams cut short, the way life should have been, and the future he’ll never know.
My sobs, barely abated, crawl up my throat, choking me while random strangers stand around us. A man I don’t recognize seems to be almost ghostly as he stares at me while I break apart.
When Mom nudges me, I’m forced to look away. After I’ve placed my single rose on his closed casket, he lowers, and I break.
He’s gone.
Cassidy’s really gone.
Peering at the crowd once more, the man who stared at me is gone, and the boys I’d dumbly thought loved me never showed up.
I can understand Lux and Bridger not coming. They only would’ve come to support me.
But Ross and Ten? They were Cassidy’s friends for years.
They betrayed me.
Left me alone.
And now he’s gone, buried deep, and I feel like I can’t breathe.
Can I die too?
Fourteen
Present
“Homecoming is in three weeks. Got a hot date?” Melissa asks me as she sits on my desk chair. I invited her over after the whole mess in Psych two weeks ago, praying to keep at least one friend in this school.
Lux’s actions disgusted her, and she decided right then and there that she would pick me. It’s refreshing, not fighting with girls.
It’s something I’ve always dreaded about social ladders in this school. We’re literally put against one another to get the title of best and richest. It’s belittling and gross.
Her question has my mind shifting to Jord
an, the new guy. Would he want to go to some lame dance with me? He seemed just as upset with Lux as Melissa, but he hasn’t tried being cute with me since. He’s kept his distance, and I can’t say I blame him much.
“Ha!” I mock. “Me, the green-haired emo freak... Yeahhh.” I can’t stop the self-deprecating laugh that escapes my lips.
It’s true. No one gives me a second glance nowadays. It makes me question last year when they actually paid me attention. Every guy at Arcadia seemed interested.
“What are you talking about? You’re so hot. Like, if I rolled that way, you’d be at the top of my bang list.”
“You’re insane.”
“You’re beautiful. Your green hair with those fake pink eyes, gothic changes to the uniform, and that ass... You’re like an anime wet dream, Colt.” She shakes her head as if not understanding my obliviousness. “Seriously, if I could have your curves, tiny waist, and tits, I would.”
“Staahhpp,” I complain, hating that she’s complimenting me. “You’re gorgeous!”
“See? Now I know you’re a big phony.”
I side-eye her, hating that she’s unable to see her own charm. We don’t even know each other, and I’ve already grown to like her. Ever since we met, she’s constantly around. I like it. Too much. It’s like with Yang but more freeing. Melissa doesn’t want to constantly hang out with guys and go to parties. She seems to be interested in just hanging out with me.
“What about you, Miss Georgia Peach?” I poke, knowing she’s quite the catch. I’ve seen Salvatore Stevenson eyeing her and a few others from the Rugby team. They’re intense and scary, but only because I know nothing about them.
“Well, there’s this guy...” she starts, her eyes nearly glow with affection.
I miss that, the feeling of desire, the craving to know more, have more, be more. Ten used to make me feel that way. Hell, Lux, Ross, and Bridger, too. They lit a fire in me I couldn’t explain, but in the end, I had to choose, and apparently, I chose wrong.
“Tell me more,” I urge, pretending to grab popcorn.
Her gaze sparkles with fondness. She sits on it a moment longer before releasing out a huge breath of air. “His name is Ridge Clemonte,” she swoons.
Right there, in this room, my heart explodes with displeasure. Ridge. My good boy who’s really a bad boy, the one who teased and taunted me for his own amusement. He never harassed me like Lux, but he’s not exactly nice either.
“I-I know him,” I mutter softly.
Her mood immediately changes on me. “Oh, no. What’s that expression for? Is he bad?”
I cringe slightly, not wanting to ruin it for her but also secretly wishing this wasn’t happening. Bridger and I shared something special. It wasn’t something the others could touch or really compare. It was different, but somehow, it was ours. The pain of knowing he could be with Melissa makes me upset for reasons I can’t pinpoint. He’s not mine.
“He’s just... someone I used to know, but if you guys like each other, go for it.” I try giving false bravado.
Inside, my heart deflates. My palms sweat as the visual of him kissing her, dancing with her, and fucking her flit across my mind. This can’t be happening. He’s no one to me. Just a cute boy who made my chest flutter before stabbing it repeatedly in hopes he would see what color it would bleed.
“He’s so hot,” she continues, missing the obvious discomfort in my gaze. “Whenever he smirks, my entire body warms.”
She chats about him and his perfectly sculpted body as my mind wanders to the first time we had a moment.
“Col!” Bridger yells after me as I leave Study Hall. My all-around GPA isn’t doing that great, and with Cassidy being best in the class, our moms are grilling me to up my game. It’s not easy. It’s like the information won’t absorb. Don’t even get me started on reading material. Reading is gross.
“Hey, Ridge,” I say simply, my face feeling warm as his depthless gaze roams me greedily. Something about how his eyes show no emotion while being endless has me putty in his presence. He has this smirk that just burns through me, making me hot all over. It’s been this way since last summer.
“I noticed you’re taking Sociology this semester.”
I stare at him and his blanket statement, wondering what that has to do with anything. “Yeah?” I ask in confusion.
“It was my best grade. Studying people amuses me.”
What he’s hinting at, I’m not sure.
He places a palm on my shoulder, pushing me into the locker. His face hovers inches away from mine, and he smirks with that panty-melting expression. I’m sure he could get anyone to do anything he wanted. Anything.
“Cass may have mentioned you’re struggling.”
This little tidbit has me wanting to strangle my brother. He means well, but doesn’t understand that stupidity isn’t attractive. I’m just not intelligent like others. It’s hard to focus and give my work the attention necessary to excel.
“He did, huh?” It comes out angry, and he can tell because his face softens.
“He cares about you. Honestly, it just gives me a reason to offer you my undivided attention.”
My heart rate picks up, and my belly warms with desire. The way his eyes hone in on my lips has me wanting to lean forward and make a move, but what if he’s just being nice?
“Is that so, Ridge?”
“Yes,” he hums and leans closer. “Would you like that, Col? Me, you, uninterrupted.”
“Yes,” I breathe out pathetically.
“Then make sure you call me Bridger when I’m around.”
He nips my nose and leaves me to wonder what the hell just happened. Bridger isn’t one for many words, but if he has his sights on me, who am I to deny him?
“What do you think?” Melissa asks.
My mind tries to wrap around our conversation, but nothing comes to mind.
“Huh?” I say pathetically.
“Haven’t you been listening? Bridger texted me and wants to know if I want to go to something called Crystallites on the Friday before Homecoming. What’s that, and should I go?”
Dread fills me. There’s only two reasons Ridge wants to invite her to this party, and both are horrible.
“You just met him. Is that really something you want to go to?”
She raises an eyebrow at me, her face unreadable. “I’m not even sure what it is.”
It’s an unspoken rule. You don’t speak about what happens at exclusive parties. If you do, bad things tend to happen.
They’re get-togethers with the elitists, or whoever they want to ruin or invite to the club. It’s where orgies tend to happen, bets that end in bloodshed, and pranks up the fucking wazoo. It’s like a secret society, one I’m not super privy to out of choice.
Ten took me once. That’s the night I lost my v-card. And my brother. Cass told me not to go, but my stupid star-struck heart didn’t fucking listen, and look at me now.
“Can you bring someone?” I ask instead of answering. I’m not sure on that part of the rules because Ten brought me, and even being the Historian in Gov, I’d never been invited before.
“I don’t see why not.” She shrugs noncommittally. “Want to come?”
“Not sure if they’ll allow a freak in, but I’m in.”
“You’ve got to stop calling yourself that,” she complains, shaking her head. “You will come and assist me since you seem to know more about them. I’ll just tell Ridge I’ll meet him there.”
Does he want her to call him Ridge?
Does he want her?
Does he think of me anymore?
“This may end badly. Not for you, of course. For me. If anything happens, call the cops.”
She looks taken aback, her shoulders stiff and posture even straighter. “You’re scaring me.”
“Mel, you should be scared. Terrified, even. These parties aren’t for the likes of you. You’re too sweet and kind and innocent...” I let out a ragged breath. “The last exclusive I went t
o was the day my brother died.”
“So, what they said in class... is that true?”
I balk at her absurd question. “I didn’t kill my brother,” I hiss, feeling attacked and on edge.
“No, Colton, the murder. Was he... murdered?”
I nod, unable to get his vacant look out of my mind. “Yes, and this entire school and town covered it up.”
She exhales noisily, her eyes wide with shock and sadness. “Tell me what I need to do.”
“Why are you doing this? It’s practically social suicide,” I begin, seeing understanding lick her features. “You don’t even know me. What if I’m a psychopath leading you to your death?”
She full body laughs at that, and I narrow my eyes. “You couldn’t hurt a fly, darlin’. I can tell,” she drawls, her accent thick.
I’m not sure who Mel is for the long run, but she doesn’t seem so bad.
Fifteen
Homecoming. It’s meant to be this big deal, and hey, last year, it was. I made a huge day of it, had four people vying for that spot even. Now? I’m not too sure. I’m not all into huge frilly dresses anymore. This year might have a different theme.
Either way, I’m wearing black.
I’m so excited for the dance tomorrow! Mel’s text comes through. Then another. It almost makes me miss my dad and brothers.
I stare at it, wondering about that tidbit. She never mentioned brothers.
You have brothers?
The feeling of absolute desolation hits me square in the chest. If I could trade my soul for my brother’s, I would. He would at least do something with his life. He had dreams, hopes, a future. I’m wasting my life and can’t give a single fuck as to why that should matter.
Two. They’re twins. They’re my older brothers.
My heart beats in this erratic rhythm that makes me sadder than I’ve been since summer. School has helped me be distracted, so I don’t think about my brother constantly, not until one of the dickbags bother me.
What are their names? I ask, hoping it doesn’t sound weird. Maybe being close to her brothers will ease some of my struggle. Probably not, but it’s worth trying.
Here Lives a Corpse: A Dark Bully Academy Romance (Here Lies Book 1) Page 10
