I’m not good enough.
I’ll never be good enough.
You know that feeling when words keep hammering in your head until they form a suffocating fog? Until they’re all you can think about and all you can breathe?
When you wake up in the morning, they slowly condensate around you like they’re your life-long companions.
They’re the first thought you wake up to and the last thought you sleep on.
That’s how it’s felt for years now.
That’s how my battle starts, and every day, I tell it not today.
“Kimmy!” A small hand pulls on mine as my baby brother drags me towards the entrance of the elementary school.
Kirian reaches my waist now. His pressed uniform has a wrinkle on the shoulder that I smooth with my hand.
His sun-kissed blond hair is in a short bowl cut that he takes pride in because it’s ‘the thing’. His bright brown eyes are so shiny, you can almost see the world through them. A world so pure, you’d want to mass-produce it and freely distribute it.
“What is it, Kir?” I ask.
“I said, you’ll do me mac and cheese later, right?”
“I can’t. I have school until late.”
He pouts, his hand turning lax in mine. If there’s anything I hate in the world, it’s killing that spark in his features.
“Marian will do it for you,” I bargain.
Kir loves our housekeeper and spends time with her when I’m not around.
“I don’t want Mari. I want you to do it.”
“Kir…” I crouch in front of him, making him stop walking. “You know there’s nothing I want more than to stay with you, right?”
He shakes his head frantically. “You disappeared the other day.”
My lower lip trembles and it takes everything in me to pull it together. This is the reason I wake up every day, why I fight that fog, why I get into the shower and then put on my uniform.
People say nothing can stop those thoughts when they strike deep. You need therapy, you need meds, you need all the fucking things.
I only need this little man with his huge eyes and small pout. His face is the first thing I try to see in the morning. His voice is the one I want to hear as soon as I open my eyes.
Kirian is my own special pill. My happy pill.
But he saw something he shouldn’t have last week. Or rather, he witnessed it and when I woke up, I found him bawling by the foot of my bed, hugging me and begging me not to leave him.
“That will never happen again, my little monkey.”
“What if it does?” His lower lip pushes forward as he widens his eyes. “What if you disappear and I have to stay with Mum?”
“Never, Kir.” I pull him to me and crush him in a hug. “I’ll never ever leave you alone with Mum. Do you get that?”
He pushes away from me and sticks out his small finger. “Pinkie swear?”
“Pinkie swear, you baby.” I curl mine around his.
As soon as he’s sure of the promise, he shoves away and glares up at me, pouting. “I’m not a baby.”
“You are my little baby. Deal with it.”
“Whatever.” He widens his eyes once more. “Are you going to come home early?”
Seriously, he has a puppy look that I’m ready to commit a crime for.
I stand up and ruffle his hair. “Fine. I’ll try.”
“Yay!” He hugs my legs. “I love you, Kimmy!”
Then he’s running in the direction of the school, clutching the straps of his backpack.
“Love you, too!” I shout after him. “Don’t run.”
As soon as I make sure he’s made it inside, I head back to my car. Other kids hop from their parents’ vehicles, kissing them before heading to the school.
A scene neither Kir nor I have had in our entire lives. I’m probably the only sibling driving her brother today.
At times like these, the red clouds I harbour for Mum explode with passion.
I don’t care about myself, but she has no right to make Kir believe he’s also unwanted, a mistake, a fucking broken condom.
At least Dad tries. All my early childhood memories consist of him putting me to bed or hugging me as I slept. He’s also the one who has always nursed me when I have a cold.
Never Mum.
Dad is just a busy man and rarely at home to make much of a difference. His calls are hardly enough anymore.
I arrive at Royal Elite School – or RES – in record time since it’s not far from Kir’s school.
At the car park, I stare at my reflection in the mirror and take a deep breath. I can do this.
For Kir.
I flip my brown hair that’s intertwined with green strands – or it’s probably the other way around, more green, less brown. What? I love the colour. I’m just thankful I was born with light green eyes. Another thing to add to my green collection.
Okay, that sounded a bit off, even in my head.
I come out of my car, clutching the straps of my backpack as I stride through RES’s huge entrance. Royal Elite School has ten gigantic towers and a magnificent building that goes back to medieval times.
The golden lion and shield logo is all about the majestic power of this place.
Rich, influential people send their kids to this school so they’ll have an easier initiation into society. After all, most of the UK’s politicians, parliament members, and diplomats have walked the halls of this school – Dad included.
He’s now a renowned diplomat who works closely with the European Union in Brussels, and for that reason, we barely see him. Maybe everything will change now the country is leaving the EU.
But I’m fairly sure he’ll find a way to boot himself someplace else. It’s as if he doesn’t want to be with us – or with Mum.
Usually, I would walk these halls with my best friend, Elsa, by my side, but since her accident and heart disease complications, she’s now resting at her house. In the meantime, I’m all on my own between people who either hate me or pretend I don’t exist.
The familiar jabs begin.
“She thinks she’s all pretty now?”
“Once fat, always fat, Kimberly.”
“Look at those thighs.”
“Elsa’s little bitch.”
My skin prickles the more their words seep under it. I try to tune them out, but like the fog, they’re impossible to ignore. They keep multiplying by the second, heightening and filling my head with those thoughts.
The grey ones that taste like bitterness and burn like acid.
No one cares about you.
You’re a nobody. Absolutely nothing.
I shake my head as I cut the distance towards the classroom. They will not get to me.
Not today, Satan. Go crawl into your little hole.
This has been my school for three years, but I’ve never once felt as if I belong in this place.
I turned eighteen a few days ago and I celebrated my birthday on Elsa’s sickness bed with Kir by my side and Dad on Skype.
No matter how old I am, it never gets easy to walk these halls, to let the knives stab me with each word out of their malicious mouths.
I wonder if they’re seeing the blood following me like a trail or if I’m the only one.
My fingers snake to my wrist, then I quickly drop my hand to my side.
For Kir, I repeat the mantra in my mind. You’re doing this for Kir.
If I get a good college and a scholarship, I’ll be able to afford a private dorm and take Kir with me, because there’s no way in fuck I’m leaving him with Mum once I’m in college.
The voices around me start blurring into themselves and I lift my head high as I put one foot in front of the other.
They’re nothing.
They’re just a ramification of the fog and I always beat down that damn fog.
Except once.
Okay, twice, and Kir witnessed one of them.
“Scarce, fucker.”
My feet come to a halt on their own accord at that voice. That strong, low voice that’s been a constant in my dreams.
And my nightmares.
Okay, my nightmares more than my dreams.
That cruel voice has ended my life over and over again when he could’ve saved me. Instead of letting me hold on to him, he left me for dead.
That voice isn’t only a part of nightmares, he’s a nightmare all on his own.
The earth tilts off balance as I lift my head. I have to keep reminding myself that gravity exists and I won’t actually fall over.
That he doesn’t matter. He stopped mattering that day seven years ago.
But maybe I’m only fooling myself, because even though I see him every day – or rather, avoid him – his view never gets more familiar or easier or fucking normal.
But there’s nothing normal about Xander Knight. He was born to become part of the elite, the ones who crush others under their boots and don’t look back at the damage. He’s one of the kings who leave chaos and heartbreak in their wake.
He’s part of RES’s four horsemen, the football team’s ace striker, and nicknamed War for his ability to destroy the opponent’s defence.
And war he is. Xander is the type of war you never see coming, and when you do, it’s already too late.
It’s already sucked you into its clutches and destroyed you from the inside out.
His golden hair is styled back but is short on the sides in a fashionable way that adds to his overall cruelty. When I was younger, I used to think he stole the blue of his eyes from the ocean and the sky.
Now, I’m sure he did, because he’s a sadistic thief.
The tame blue that used to lighten up upon seeing me is now darkening to a sinister colour.
To say Xander is beautiful would be an understatement of not only the century but of the entire common era. It’s not just because of his put-together blond look – his face belongs to models, gods, and general immortals. It’s sharp-cut with a slight stubble that adds to his charm.
Like everyone at school, I used to see that beauty. I used to stop at the step of my house and pinch myself, chanting that he’s indeed my friend – my knight – and he’s calling me over to play together.
Now, I see someone completely different. I see vindictiveness, hate, a war god out to destroy.
He used to be my best friend. Now, he’s a stranger.
A bully.
An enemy.
The boy Xander just shooed away bows his head and retreats around the corner. Being part of the horsemen, Elites’ ace striker, and the son of a minister gives him the right to a crown, one that’s crowded with thorns and black smoke.
Still, everyone around here bows down to his authority. If he’d asked that boy to crawl, he would’ve dropped to the ground without asking questions.
Xander twirls a football on his forefinger, his other hand in his trousers’ pocket as he stalks towards me with steady, purposeful strides. I keep my gaze on him, watching his every movement and struggling to suck air into my lungs. I don’t know why I think he’ll push me away, or rather, kick me down.
Not that it’d be something new. Worse has been done to me during my years of bullying – fat-shaming remarks, spilling of paint, mocking confessions, all of it.
It’s stupid to think Xan would touch me. He never has.
Not even once.
The uniform’s blue jacket stretches over his wide shoulders and muscular chest. Everything about him is – muscular, I mean. Including his football thighs, especially his football thighs.
I don’t know when that happened. Okay, that’s a lie. The development of his physique started exactly in the summer between Royal Elite Junior – our previous school – and Royal Elite School.
Disclaimer, I notice a lot of things around me. It’s not only about him. Ever since I realised my mum wouldn’t stand up for me and I’d have to do it on my own, I’ve learnt a lot of survival methods. The most important of all: being aware of my surroundings.
Whether I like it or not, Xander has always been a part of my immediate environment and he’ll continue to be until the end of this year. Then, when I’m out of this city, everything will be over.
Breathe in. Just a few more months. Breathe out.
“Are you waiting for an invitation? Scarce, Berly.”
His voice is light, but there’s nothing light about his undertone. I know he didn’t tell the boy to disappear for my sake. Xander doesn’t stand up for me, and he sure as hell doesn’t tell others off on my behalf.
If it were the old me, I would’ve bowed my head and run away crying, and his mocking laughter would’ve followed me as I sniffled in dark corners, not wanting others to witness my shame.
However, something’s changed.
Me.
I’ve changed.
Ever since I woke up and found Kir hugging me and bawling, I’ve come to an important conclusion. If I want to survive in this world, if I want to stay with my baby brother and save him from our mum, then I have to take my life into my own hands.
I’m done playing a secondary role in my own tale.
Done letting the likes of Xander Knight walk all over me.
Done crying in corners like a damn coward.
I push my shoulders back the way Elsa always does and meet his gaze head-on. “There’s room.”
Okay, my voice could’ve been louder, but it’s calm, so there’s that. Baby steps.
“What did you just say?” He narrows one of his eyes as if not believing I spoke.
I don’t talk back to Xander. Ever. I either run away or do as he tells me. I’ve always thought if I did, one day, he’d find it in him to forgive me. One day, he’d recall those times we used to be best friends.
But I’ve been a fool.
Those times only exist for me. He already wiped them clean, so I might as well do the same.
“You heard me.” I motion at the rest of the hall. “There’s room. Use it.”
He chuckles, the sound dry and humourless, and my back stiffens. “Did you just order me, Berly?”
I hate that name. I fucking despise it.
It’s a taunt, and a cruel one at that. The boy who used to call me his Green is long gone. It’s not that I want him to call me that again, he lost the right when he said I disgusted him. He lost the right when he stood by as all the other students bullied me.
He lost the right when he was no longer my number one supporter and turned into my number one tormentor.
Still, I wish he’d just call me by my first name.
I lift a shoulder. “Call it whatever you like.”
I start to move past him, but he stops twirling the ball and thrusts it in front of my face, forcing me to halt. “Not so fast.”
A sigh escapes me even as a tremor shoots down my spine. Being this close to him that I almost smell the mint on his breath and his rich ocean scent rattles me in ways I don’t care to admit.
Or experience.
“What do you want, Xander?”
His brows scrunch and his grip tightens on the ball. “First, lose the attitude. Second, don’t say my fucking name.”
“Then how about you stop getting in my fucking way?” I snap, then bite my lower lip.
Shit.
I just snapped at him. This must be the first time in…well, ever. I don’t remember ever doing it, not even when we were kids. He seems taken aback, too, when his face loses the hard edge for a fraction of a second.
Before he can think about a way to retaliate – and hurt me – I brush past him and stride to class. But I don’t run. No, I keep my steps controlled.
From today onwards, Xander Knight won’t see me run or cry.
This confrontation is only the beginning.
A new battle has started in our war.
And this time, I’ll come out as the winner.
