CUT HERE (The Cut Series Book 1)

by Azzurra Nox

  She was in the company of Bethany, Blake, and Bailey as usual when Jon walked by her locker as he did every morning the only difference was that this morning instead of being alone or in the company of his insipid girlfriend Amelia, she noticed that he was with that new girl, Lena. Anger rose up within her in a matter of moments. But it wasn’t because he was in her company, but more so because she noticed the way he took her hand, if only briefly to guide her to their first class. Furious, Dior marched towards the two, completely ignoring Lena, she said to him, “I’m having a get together this weekend at my ski lodge, you’re welcome to come if you want.”

  “I’m not interested,” his curt reply.

  She bit her lip trying not to sound angry or desperate in her plea to him.

  “But my parents won’t be around. It’ll just be a small group of friends. You can’t say it won’t be fun. I’ll have lots of booze.”

  “Like I said, thanks but no thanks.” His eyes seemed to hold her gaze for a moment and it felt like she had been pierced by a dagger directly in the center of her chest from the sheer coldness they emanated towards her.

  “Why are you so rude to me?”

  “It’s simple. I don’t like spoiled brats.”

  There was a moment of stunned silence and then she reacted in a way that she never thought she would with him. Her hand moved before her brain could think and she heard the slap first and felt the sting of the collision later. He seemed just as shocked and bewildered by her reaction as much as she was. The side of his face held her five fingerprints in beet red.

  “What’s wrong with you?!” Lena shouted shoving her away and fretting over Jon’s slapped cheek.

  “I’m okay,” he told Lena, not even rubbing his cheek and looking at Dior with a little smirk.

  She hadn’t been aware that so many people had gathered around them. Suddenly she saw Amelia approaching them in fast, angry paces.

  “What’s your problem?!” she pushed Dior against the lockers, her back colliding against the metal made a clanging sound. Dior was astonished by Amelia’s sudden violent outburst, this wasn’t typical of her usual benevolent demeanor. There was a hushed silence amongst the group, as everyone waited for the next person to strike. Straightening her posture, Dior attempted to shake off the shock and react.

  “Your boyfriend is a rude psycho!” she didn’t even care whether or not what she just said made any sense whatsoever. She pushed her way past Amelia, walking fast so that she didn’t have to listen to any possible comeback from anyone. In the background, she could feel the other students’ eyes leering in speculation. She couldn’t bear it. All of this was already too face palming. The manner in which Jon had touched Lena’s hand, and then called her a brat only moments later. Tears stung the inside of her eyes, but she refused to cry. The Three Bee’s followed right behind her, glaring at Amelia and Lena. Blake said, “You’ll be sorry,” although Dior had no idea whom it was referred to. Maybe one of the girls, or perchance both. She was grateful when the bell rang. The crowd quickly dispersed. But she refused to turn around, walking fast and steady. Not allowing her friends to catch up. She wasn’t headed in a distinct direction but soon found herself outside under the warm sun despite the winter day. But it was never truly winter in the city of angels, for an eternal spring reigned. She took a deep breath. Closed her eyes. Counted to ten. When she re-opened them, she noticed a black feather on the ground. Her friends barged into her thoughts, before she had a moment to reflect.

  “Let’s get back inside Di, or we’ll be late for World History,” Bailey fretted as she pulled on her arm to lead her back indoors. A wind rose up, if only briefly and when she turned around to see if the feather was still there it was gone. Flown away with the winter breeze or maybe it had only been a vision of stress? She couldn’t decide at the moment.

  No one knew then that something terrible was on the verge of happening.

  Chapter Seven

  The clock struck three fifteen as the bell tower resonated with the dongs to indicate the time change. She couldn’t believe she was on the brink of being late again, if she didn’t hurry she’d miss the afternoon bus to the dance studio. Lena hurried as best she could, her ankle wasn’t fully recovered yet, so running was out of the question. Not to mention that the messenger bag she was carrying was weighing her down between her books, ballet slippers, and attire.

  “Blast!” she exclaimed as she noticed the bus closing its doors getting ready to leave. “Wait, no….hold on!” she shouted but she was too far away for the driver to hear and see her as she hobbled faster, but it was useless. The bus doors slipped shut and the driver put the bus in gear, and sure enough was heading out of the school gate.

  “Wonderful. Just wonderful,” she murmured as she solemnly walked, the bus fumes were still in the air in a faint scent that seemed to bother her sinus as she coughed. She was too engrossed in her thoughts that she didn’t notice a car approaching her.

  “Lost your bus?” Jon was driving a silver metallic Mercedes Benz E63, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

  “Yeah.”

  “Hop in.”

  She gave him a weird look.

  “What? I promise I won’t kill you and hide your body in the Los Angeles river.”

  “You cant, it’s too low right now for body disposals. You’d be better off throwing my body in the ocean.”

  “And have the surfers find you? No way.”

  She laughed, shaking her head.

  “Seriously, though, hop in. Where are you headed?”

  “Ballet. And I’m not getting into a car with a smoker,” she continued her walk as he drove steadily next to her.

  “Oh come on,” he took a final drag from the cigarette before throwing it out. “See? I’m not smoking now. Hop in.”

  “You’re so slick,” she stopped when he did, as he leaned over and opened the car door. She slipped inside, the soft lush cream colored cushions felt soft and held no smell of smoke. It actually still lingered with the scent of new leather.

  “When did you get this car? It looks new.”

  “Christmas,” he said matter of fact without much thought. “What’s your hang up with smokers?”

  “It’s a disgusting habit, besides why would you want to put your life at risk? Life is beautiful. You shouldn’t do anything to put yourself in the way of losing it.”

  He rolled his eyes as he drove out of the school’s gate. “Please, I’ve lived long enough to know that life is more about suffering than beauty.”

  Lena looked at him curiously. His tone held a tinge of nostalgic remorse. Something in his past must have allowed him to reach this opinion of life, but she didn’t want to pry. At least not so soon. It wouldn’t seem polite. After all, sharing a class together didn’t mean she had a right to know why he was so bitter.

  “That was crazy what Dior did today,” she changed the subject, twirling a lock of hair around her finger.

  “Tell me about it,” his hand faintly touched the cheek she had slapped earlier that morning.

  “She probably likes you.”

  “Nonsense.”

  “Why else would she get so pissed then? I think she does.”

  He laughed as he turned on the radio to KLOS station and the opening notes of Under the Bridge from Red Hot Chili Peppers filled the car. Reaching down, he grabbed his pair of black Ray Ban Wayfarers and slipped them on.

  “I doubt she likes me. Besides, everyone knows that I’m not really the best person for relationships.”

  “What about Amelia?”

  “What about her?”

  “You don’t think your feeling for her is serious?”

  “She’s an awesome girl. I like her. But my heart isn’t somersaulting over her if that’s what you want to know.”

  “That’s so sad,” she said softly. She had grown to like Amelia and Jon’s blunt reply annoyed her a little. “Maybe you should tell her.”

  “She knows. Besides, what’s it to you?”

>   “She’s my friend.”

  “Right. Female bonding. I get it.”

  “You know, you’re such a jerk sometimes.”

  “Not sometimes, babe. All the time,” his smirk was charming and she hated to acknowledge just how attractive he was in that moment with the Ray Bans concealing his eyes and his black hair blowing in the wind.

  “Where’s this studio anyway?”

  “It’s on Hollywood Blvd.”

  “Here, punch in the address on my GPS,” he handed the navigator over to her. She looked at it for a moment, not quite sure how to function it, till she figured out how she was supposed to write in the address into the computerized map.

  “I didn’t know you were into ballet. How long have you been doing it?”

  “Eight years.”

  “Wow, that’s amazing. To have a passion that lasts that long.”

  “It’s the only thing that kept me going after my mom died,” she said, then bit her lip. She hadn’t meant to let that slip. She never liked talking about her mother’s death, reason why she never brought it up with strangers. But sometimes it was inevitable.

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me,” she looked over at him with a nervous grin, “For all you know, I could be the one trying to discard your body in the Los Angeles river.”

  He chuckled, as he made a turn. She noticed that they were getting closer to the dance studio, the street looked familiar with its rows of tall Palm trees lined up on either side of the road. The trees so tall they gave the illusion they could reach the sky like outstretched hands.

  “You’re really something else, Lena Martin.”

  “So are you, Jonathan Russe.”

  They had arrived at their destination. He stopped the car. Looking down at her clock she noticed she was only five minutes late. It wasn’t that tragic, she’d only have to do a few extra warm ups before she’d be in par with the rest of the class.

  “You’ll have to show me how you dance, sometime.”

  “Sure. If I get the role of Christine, you can come see me,” she offered a smile. She unlatched the seat belt, and looked at him for a moment. The afternoon sun seemed to settle in the background, giving his hair a black cherry hue. For a brief moment she was tempted to kiss him, but then she shook that idea out of her head. What was she thinking? And why had she even thought that?

  “I…uh….I gotta go. Thanks for the ride,” she opened the car door, hurriedly getting out before she’d change her mind.

  “No problem.”

  “Oh, and Jon?”

  “Yes?”

  “Smoking is bad for you.”

  He grinned at her, and waved goodbye. The silver car disappeared into a sea of traffic.

  Chapter Eight

  It was a typical California winter day, meaning the the sun was out and it was pleasant enough to walk outdoors without a jacket. Blake wore a cashmere scarf around her neck, because at seven o’clock in the morning there was a slight chill that came off from the Pacific Ocean. The school was bustling with life. She wasn’t sure why she felt compelled to climb up to the top of the school’s Bell Tower. Maybe she just wanted to be alone with her thoughts. She snickered at the notion. No one ever figured she did much thinking. No one even referred to her by her name, she had become a part of a threesome. The Three Bees they called her, Bethany, and Bailey. The only one who everyone knew by her name was Dior. The head of their clique. The Queen Bee. The Honeys.

  She looked out at the students below in the parking lot. It was a lonely existence. No one really knew her. Not really. People knew of her, which was an entirely different thing. She noticed some people walking towards the entrance. Jon was walking hand in hand with Amelia. There was a moment of envy. All the boys in school thought she was beautiful, and yet she never had those moments of intimacy with a guy. Kissing them at parties wasn’t the same. Too often she found it easier to place her lips upon a stranger’s than to share a true affectionate moment. How sad that she thought kissing wasn’t intimate. But she couldn’t think that when she did it so lackadaisically. It was expected of her. You only live once, her older sister had told her, which was code for, make out with as many men you can whilst your youth permits it. Amelia smiled as Jon brought her hand to his lips. What a romantic gesture, she found herself thinking. If only someone had ever done that to her. If only people thought she was more than a typical pretty face. A pretty blonde cheerleader with killer legs is all she was. That’s all she was expected to be.

  Buses drove in from various parts of the city. The school wasn’t that big compared to public schools meaning a small student body. This enabled everyone to know about each other pretty easily. Secrets were difficult to keep, and anything confidential became public domain within a matter of minutes. Her fingers clutched a Louis Vuitton handbag tightly. Without much thought she dumped the contents of the handbag unto the cement floor. Everything scattered. Cosmetics, various perfume bottles, pens, an iPhone, and a book.

  Cut Here.

  She didn’t usually read thriller mysteries, but the cover had attracted her to purchase it. Her hands rummaged through the sheets of paper that had fallen out of her purse. Lifting one, she read over the pink inked scribble. You’ll meet your destiny today. She had written that last night, in a half-sleep state. A seductive whisper in her dreams suggested the phrase.

  Look over the ledge, a voice echoed in the morning breeze. Blake blinked her eyes. She bit down on her lower lip to make sure she was awake. She was. But the voice was persistent. The far away noise of flapping wings. She looked up at the sky. There were a few crows flying over her head. A murder of crows, she thought, and the idea made her shudder. The black cashmere scarf was a comfort to her in the chill.

  It was still early for classes. She had another forty-five minutes before she had to be in World History. Leaving the contents on the ground, she slowly walked over to the edge of the Bell Tower. Blake inhaled the crisp morning air. The sound of flapping wings became louder. She found herself closing her eyes. The breeze felt stronger against her cheek and suddenly she felt immensely light. As though she were floating on air. A sense of freedom, like a bird.

  Blake didn’t have the courage to open her eyes. There had been a persuasive push against her shoulders. She knew it was too late. She had taken the leap, and there was nothing that could stop her anymore. The weather forecast for that day was bright skies with a tinge of melancholy in the air. Her hand clutched the note tightly in her hand, she wanted to hold unto it till the very end. Before she’d reach the grand oblivion.

  Chapter Nine

  Everyone had seen her petite frame jump from the Bell Tower but no one could stop her. It was too late for anyone to do anything. Lena was just stepping out of her father’s car when she saw the body fling from the ledge and fall limply to the ground with a loud crack. She wanted to scream, and didn’t notice that she was until her dad was shaking her to stop. The sound haunted her. The blood was spouting out on the sidewalk like molten lava, slow and deadly. Red. The same color that haunted her nightmares, the same gaudy color that stained her mother’s mink coat, and coated her vibrant blonde hair as though she had been splashed with pig’s blood like Carrie White.

  Dale Martin held unto Lena’s trembling body, her messenger bag on the ground. She closed her eyes, not wanting to see the red. It reminded her too much of the last time she saw that brazen color in a different situation.

  “Lena!” Jon went up to her, seeing her near the entrance of the school. Her eyes shut tight. “You okay?” he asked her in a concerned tone.

  “I’m taking her home,” Dale Martin said, his blue eyes sad with worry as he kept her close to him, fingers stroking her long hair to try to soothe her frail nerves.

  “What? No. I don’t want to go home,” she blinked her eyes open. Someone must’ve called an ambulance because the sound of sirens was approaching just around the bend. Amelia looked at her with a veil of
confusion and concern. Everyone seemed worried for her, maybe because she couldn’t stop trembling. It felt like the air had suddenly gotten colder. In the corner of her eye she noticed something peculiar. There, in the midst of the red, flickered a black feather. Long and glossy, just like the one she had noticed outside of the dance studio the night she sprained her ankle.

  “No…” she shook her head, pulling away from her dad. “It can’t be….” the shock of Blake’s death had taken her back to that night when her mother was hit by a motorcycle. The feather looked menacing, giving her an uneasy feeling. The two alternating emotions championed her behavior.

  “Lena! What’s wrong?” Dale Martin was unaware of what she had seen and couldn’t comprehend her sudden fear. He tried to keep her put but she disentangled herself from his grip, and made her way through the crowd that had quickly gathered around the body.

  “Lena! Don’t!” Jon cautioned, but she moved on her own accord. She needed to see if was the same feather. But it couldn’t be. This was insanity.

  She pushed her way through the people. Dropping to her hands and knees she crawled over to the body. Jon was after her, pulling at her boot, trying to keep her from going towards Blake’s lifeless body but she kicked back, and weaseled her way between legs to grab the feather.

  It was sticky with blood. She brought it up to her eyes, casting it up against the sun. A drop of blood fell upon her cheek but she didn’t seem to notice. Instead, she was engrossed at how the feather looked exactly the same as the one she had found the other night. What was the meaning of this? What kind of winged creature was that big to have wings that size? It made no sense. Not even her raven theory. It was an utter mystery.