Golden: A Paranormal Romance

by Ellis Marie

  Mrs. Howard nods, taking a seat at her desk and motioning for me to continue and I take a shaky breath.

  “Well, I think that the base of this play is honesty. The whole conflict in the plot is over people being honest or not, of people believing honesty or not, about being honest with yourself and staying true to yourself over lying to protect yourself and those around you. It’s about what you think of yourself at its purest form. If people were to believe Abigail, then it would be whether she believes herself or not, whether people could convince themselves of a lie or make themselves believe that they are honest. John Proctor’s entire death is around the fact that he would not lie, he would not damn himself, and therefore, he died for it. At the root of all things, honesty is the key.”

  I almost laugh at how relatable my words are. My mind replays all the moments I had been untrue to those around me, the way I lied to prevent myself from ever knowing the truth, to stop myself from understanding.

  “To lie to yourself can be easy if you really want to believe something. You can pretty much convince yourself of anything, but convincing other people around you can be the tricky part. Or I suppose, it can be the other way around too. Honesty is a gift that you really only share with certain people. To be honest is to be true to yourself and to those around you.”

  I take a huge breath after speaking, my anxiety fading as I look up, realising what I’ve just said. I feel the blush rising on my cheeks, embarrassed by how much I’ve shared.

  Mrs. Howard nods at me, thinking over my answer as we both look at Trent, who surprisingly is staring at me with his brows creased and his eyes glittering with questions.

  “And Mr. Night, what was your opinion?”

  Trent frowns a little more, as though he is battling with something within himself as he turns and faces the front of the class with his eyes cast down at his book.

  “Survival.” His voice is low, rumbling with something under the surface, but it’s strong, so strong that the few people whispering among themselves on the desk across the room from us still, silence echoing.

  “Survival is the most basic human function, to figure out how to survive, to act on natural instincts to survive. Sure, honesty is a key factor of the plot and an added theme, but honesty is down to survival.”

  His eyes glance at me, and my breath catches in the power behind them.

  “Why do we lie? Sure, some people do it for fun, to annoy someone, to prank. But the most common? To protect ourselves or someone around us . . . to survive. We lie to hide, which we think others won’t like or won’t accept. We lie to hide the things about us that wouldn’t be wanted so that we can survive and we can live in the best way that we can.”

  He breaks eye contact with me and turns away. My chest heaves, as though I can finally breathe again.

  “Survival drove most of the characters to confess to witchcraft. John fought against his instincts for survival and stayed true to himself in order to also help his family survive. No matter which way you look at it, the answer is survival.”

  “I’m very impressed with both of those answers,” Mrs. Howard comments. “You’re both correct; however, there is a theme you both missed. Irony.”

  I frown at her words.

  Irony?

  “The whole play is based around a town attempting to get rid of witches. The irony is that there were actually no witches whatsoever and that the people they were trying to protect are exactly the people that they ended up killing—the good people who stayed honest. Those who chose to survive and lie were often the ones who were responsible for killing the innocent. The irony of the whole thing is that if everyone had stayed true to themselves, if they’d been honest, they all would have survived. The whole thing would never have started in the beginning. When Elizabeth is called forward to vouch for John, not knowing that he has already confessed to adultery and just needs to her to confirm it to prove that she is always honest, she does the opposite; she lies, and that is the reason that John is hung, because Elizabeth lied, thinking it will protect him, but instead, she seals his fate. If John had been honest with her from the beginning, if they’d continued to be honest with each other and she had accepted him for everything he was and told him that, then maybe she would have said the truth and saved him. Ironic, isn’t it?”

  She turns back to the board and begins to write on it, explaining another theme in the book, but I can’t concentrate. Instead, it’s circling through her words, trying to grasp exactly what she’s said. All I can do is stare at the boy next to me, who seems to be deep in thought about something. His face, for the first time, shows a small bit of what I swear is fear.

  Cole turns around and glances at me before leaning back on his chair, grabbing Trent’s arm on the table and snapping him out of the black hole his mind seems to be in.

  “Don’t think about it right now,” Cole whispers, but I hear him, his words making the itch on my skin even stronger. I just want to scream at the frustration I feel by not knowing what they’re talking about. “Now isn’t the place.”

  His eyes glance at me again. I pout at him. He responds with an apologetic smile before he goes back to his table and begins writing.

  I, meanwhile, try to focus on not staring—yet again—at the beautiful man beside me who hasn’t so much as glanced in my direction but seems to just be rewriting the same thing over and over again on his book, not paying attention.

  “Trent,” I whisper, but he doesn’t look at me. The only sign of him hearing me is the way his pencil falters and the tip snaps off. “Trent.”

  Without saying anything, he stands up abruptly and grabs his bag, shoving his things into it so quickly that I barely have time to register what’s happening before he’s leaving the room. Mrs. Howard’s words fall on deaf ears.

  Oh, hell no, he does not just get to run away.

  I stand up without even thinking, grabbing my books. When I glance at Trent’s chair, I see his jacket still hanging over the back of it.

  “And where are you going, Miss Williams?” Mrs. Howard asks, an accusing tone laced with her words. I hold up Trent’s jacket as I file through the desks and to the door.

  “He forgot his jacket?” I offer, knowing it’s not valid, but I don’t wait for a reply before I’m out of the room and into the corridor, the gasps of students inside the class cutting off as I shut the door.

  I glance up and down the corridors, looking for a sign of a six-foot-four angry hunk marching down them, but he’s nowhere to be seen. It’s only when I hear the echo of the main door slamming that I know where he is.

  Outside.

  I run down the hall, quickly heading for the doors while I look out for any teachers, but I’m luck; I slip out without so much as someone seeing me.

  When I’m outside, I quickly cover my eyes with my arm, blocking out the sun as I try to see his figure. I spot him yards away on one of the main playing fields. I head in his direction, my feet pounding on the concrete that suddenly changes to grass.

  “Trent!” I yell, making him halt. He turns around with shock on his face as I run at him, his feet bringing him closer to me.

  “Elle? What are you doing? You should be in class,” he urges, running his hand through his hair rapidly and clutching at the strands—something I’ve come to realise he does when he’s stressed.

  “You left your jacket.” I shrug, catching my breath as I hold it out to him, and he looks at me as if I’m crazy.

  “You left class and have risked getting in a lot of trouble just to give me my jacket? After I stormed out of there ignoring you?” His face is coated with so much confusion that it makes me chuckle. I can’t help but let it out, my voice light and that only seems to make him more confused.

  I shrug in response.

  “I wanted to see that you’re okay. I don’t know what happened in there, but you helped me earlier so here I am.”

  Trent’s expression softens as he looks at me, stepping closer as his hand reaches up and cups th
e side of my cheek. A small smirk glistens onto his lips.

  “You, mo chuisle, are by far one of the strangest creatures I have ever met.” He watches my mouth part with a question. “It’s Irish,” he answers before I can ask, and I roll my eyes.

  “How is it that you know so many languages?” I ask with amusement in my words. He winks at me, making my heart almost skip a beat.

  “Maybe one day I’ll tell you all my secrets.” His words make both our smiles falter as his fingers brush through the side of my hair and pin it behind my ear.

  “Elle, there’s so much I want to tell you,” he whispers, a frown marring his perfect features. I step closer to him, wrapping my hands around his large one that holds me.

  “Then tell me,” I almost beg. He watches me, a debate igniting in his mind as his mouth twitches over words he tries to say before he takes a huge sigh and then straightens up. The air seems to breathe around us.

  “Okay, Elle, I—”

  “Well, well, well, what do we have here? If it isn’t my two most favourite people in the world.”

  My whole body freezes as the voice drips into my ears, their words swirling around my mind.

  The breeze is cold—ice cold. Like the blue of his eyes.

  “Matt.” I swallow, my hands beginning to shake as I turn around and face the person before me, their smile like a knife in my stomach being wrenched in and out.

  “Annabelle,” he states, eyeing me from head to toe. “You look like a mess. Do you see what happens when you’re not with me?”

  I feel my heart rise in my throat.

  “She looks beautiful and she’s a hell of a lot better without you.” Trent steps forward, growling as he stands tall. His shoulders seem to almost double in size, and it’s as if I can feel his shadow towering over me. “I would advise that you turn around and walk away right now.”

  Matt’s eyes widen as he glances at me and then Trent, his mouth turning up in amusement as he lets out a laugh. He claps his hands together, the sound making a shiver trail down my spine.

  “Oh, this is so sweet.” His laugh grows louder. “You think you have any right to tell me what to do? You? A lower species?”

  Trent’s chest vibrates with the insult. I quickly place my hand on it, stepping around him as I try to make him calm down. The last thing I want is for him to give Matt exactly what he wants and to get in trouble.

  “Trent, let’s just go,” I whisper, pressing gently into him in an attempt to move him back, but he’s as solid as a rock and doesn’t even budge. He only wraps one of his hands around my own and squeezes my fingers.

  “Well, this is just adorable,” Matt cackles, letting out a whistle. “I think this needs more of an audience, don’t you think?”

  I turn and look at him with confusion sweeping over me, but as he lets out another whistle, the shadows that I hadn’t previously seen lurking behind the main doors move. They swing open, revealing the only people I can imagine to be sad enough to stand and wait for Matt’s orders.

  The three musketeers.

  My hand flies to my necklace as my other one grips Trent’s hand behind my back. I squeeze both at the same, not sure what comfort either will give me right now.

  “Hello, Anna,” Carter sneers. I swallow the bile in my throat. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?”

  The other boys chuckle and I take a deep breath.

  Do not let him scare you.

  “Hi, Carter. Nice black eye.”

  The four men stop laughing and stare at me in shock with their mouths wide as they watch me. My eyes widen at the realisation of what I’ve said. I try to press down the butterflies shaking my bones.

  Behind me, Trent’s chest vibrates a little. When I glance up at him, I can see his mouth tight in an attempt to hold in laughter. His other hand shoots up to cover his mouth as he clears his throat.

  “Sorry,” he apologises to the boys. “Tickle in my throat.”

  My glee at finally standing up to one of the insufferable boys quickly dies when I turn back to them and see the look of rage coating all of Matt’s features, his tongue glinting along the edge of his lips.

  “I think your girlfriend has lost her manners,” Carter spits, making a move to step towards me, but Matt’s arm flies out and halts him.

  “That’s alright, Carter.” He smiles, a slow grin spreading across his face. “We’ll just have to teach her again, isn’t that right, baby?”

  Bile rises in my throat as he steps towards me, but Trent is quicker than I am and quickly intercepts. His body hides me like a shield against an attack. I clutch onto his back, the comfort washing over me. As I cling to the chain around my neck, a warmth comes over me, stopping my shaking hands and calming my breathing.

  He really did help.

  “I think you’ll find she’s not your ‘baby’ anymore,” he tells Matt quietly, his voice barely audible. “And I’d watch how close you get, I’d hate for your arm to be lost in an accident.”

  “And I’d hate for you to try and walk away from me with my girl, and my boys have to stop you. Such unnecessary drama.”

  Trent makes another move to say something back, no doubt much more violent, but I step out and stop him. I train my eyes on the person who has made my life hell for years. He stands and smirks at me, watching as I get closer to him.

  “If I’m your girl, then what’s Tracey?” The question comes from my lips so smoothly that I almost can’t believe I’ve finally said it, but the change in everyone’s expressions around me verifies that I have, in fact, just confronted him. After a pause, he lets out a scoff and rolls his eyes.

  “What do you mean, ‘What is Tracey?’ She’s your friend, not mine.”

  His chorus of idiots behind him all laugh along with their eyes glancing at each other, but my own catch Carter’s, and I can see the panic in them as he sees me—as he sees the determination in my eyes.

  “She is not my friend,” I state simply, causing them to silence. “A friend like her is something I would wish upon no one.”

  Matt rolls his eyes again and reaches out to me, but I step back, crossing my arms over my chest.

  “So, tell me, Matt, if she’s not my friend, then what is she?”

  The air seems to shift at that moment as if something has turned the tables. For once, it seems like I can breathe clearly. Like, for the first time, my mind isn’t clouded by someone else’s ideas and orders.

  Is this what it’s like to be free?

  “I don’t think I quite understand what you mean, princess,” he says through gritted teeth. I take another step towards him, wanting to stare straight into his eyes as I finally ask the question I’ve waited to ask for what feels like a lifetime.

  “Did you sleep with her?”

  It seems as though even Matt is surprised that I’ve actually plucked up the courage to ask him the question. His eyes widen in response while my own close as a weight lifts off my shoulders. That tells me everything I need to know.

  “It’s complicated, princess. Alcohol, drugs, being away from you for so long—”

  “So Carter wasn’t lying. You did sleep with her on the boat trip.”

  I almost want to pat myself on the back for the horrified expression I make break out on Carter’s face. Matt seems to take a second to understand what I’ve said.

  “T-that’s not what I said—” Carter tries to explain, his feet tumbling over themselves like his words. “I didn’t tell her, Matt, I would never—”

  “Shut up.”

  I almost flinch back at the venomous tone that the words leave Matt’s lips, but my feet stay steady, and I don’t hesitate in continuing. I need to get it all out before I break down.

  “I gave up everything for you and then I gave you everything. I spent years trying to make you happy, thinking that the whole time I was the issue, that maybe you were just going through something, but I knew that-—” I cut myself off, tears pooling in my eyes.

  “I thought that at least I could trust
you, that after everything I’ve done for you, you would never even think to touch another girl even in our worst moments. But here you are. And here I am.” I take a breath.

  “And I’m done.” My voice shakes at the end. I quickly step back, Trent’s arm automatically finding my waist like a magnet that helps to steady me. The boys behind Matt have all shrunk down to a much smaller size than I once thought and are almost cowering behind their leader, who himself looks frozen in shock, as though his small mind is having difficulty in comprehending what’s happening.

  “I always deserved better than you.”

  Matt’s eyes harden at my words, his jaw clenching as his face begins to turn red, but I turn away, not wanting to spend another second looking at him.

  “Let’s go,” I whisper to Trent who nods in agreement before turning us both, removing the putrid view from my sights. I close my eyes, revelling in the new beginning I am about to take.

  “You’re not going anywhere,” a voice rips through as a hand grabs onto my arm and yanks me away from Trent, spinning me around to face the mask of outrage.

  All the memories of his flying fists and hate-filled eyes fill my mind. All I can see is the horrible creature that I had constantly protected from himself. In return, I destroyed myself.

  Without even really thinking about it, I lift my fist and it flies towards his face, my thoughts only about the anger filling me from what feels like my heart. Unfortunately, he sees it coming and his other hand lifts up and stops it in its track, squeezing me tightly as my fist hangs in the air between us.

  “Try again, princess,” he sneers.

  I don’t know what would have happened at this moment; I do not know if I would have been punished, I do not know if I would have stood and screamed, but I don’t even get a second to consider my options because before Matt can even take a breath, he has disappeared from my view and is in a pile on the floor, the large smacking sound echoing around us.

  I look up and see Trent standing, his chest rising up and down as he glares at the crumpled heap moaning below us. A laugh almost leaves my mouth as I realise what’s happened.