The following day, I don’t go to school.
As soon as Derek stops in front of Mum’s building, I rush out, my heartbeat nearly eradicating me altogether.
Mum lives down the centre of London, where it’s noisy and the traffic is suffocating. It’s her way to stay amongst people — even if they’re the most annoying type.
The concierge, an old man with a beard, greets me and I gulp so I can speak over the tightness in my throat. “I-is Mum upstairs? Did you check on her?”
“Mrs. Davis asked us not to disturb her.”
My knees weaken. I nearly fall right there and then.
No.
No, Mum. You promised.
He’s saying something else, but I don’t listen to him over the buzz in my ears. It’s like I’m pushed a few years back. It’s the same scene, the same foreboding, and the same deadly fear.
It’s all there.
I hit the lift’s button, but it doesn’t come down.
I storm towards the stairs and take two at a time. My knees still shake, but I manage to go all the way to the tenth storey. I’m panting, my uniform’s shirt sticks to my skin, but that’s the least of my worries.
The moment I’m in front of Mum’s flat, I just stand there. My limbs freeze and it’s like someone has cast a spell on me. I can’t move.
Oh, God.
Maybe I should’ve told Papa before he went out to work this morning. Maybe I should’ve had Derek come up with me.
I don’t want to go in there alone.
I…I’m scared.
My heart thrums loud in my chest and a shiver shoots up my spine, engulfing me whole.
Go, Silver.
You have to go.
My fingers are stiff and cold as I hit the password to her flat. The sound of the lock clicking open echoes in the silence of the hall like doom. I flinch, even when I try to keep my composure.
My hand strangles the strap of my bag as I tiptoe inside.
The first thing I see is black.
It’s so dark, I can’t make out my own hands.
Then the smell of something rotten follows. Something like meat and alcohol.
A sob tears from my throat as I run inside. “Mum! Mum!”
I trip over a table and my foot stings. I throw my bag down and continue hobbling towards her bedroom. I’ve learnt the way by heart and can reach it even in the dark.
My fingers tremble, hovering over the light switch. What if I find her on the ground like the other time? What if I’m too late? What if —
I hit the button and freeze in place.
Mum sits in front of her console, her blonde hair falling on either side of her face and stopping a little under her neck, dishevelled and all over the place.
Her cobalt blue eyes are bloodshot and lost in the mirror. Streaks of mascara mark her cheeks, and she holds a red lipstick in her hand that matches the colour on her lips.
Her other hand clutches a half-full glass of red wine. Her satin nightgown is creased and the robe is tied wrong around her waist, but it doesn’t hide her model body or her exotic beauty that everyone in the media talks about.
The model politician. Beauty can be smart.
That’s Mum in their eyes. A successful, beautiful woman who can debate in the parliament for days. But they don’t see the woman I see. They don’t witness her like this, lost somewhere no one can find her.
“Mum…” I approach her slowly, a tear sliding down my cheek.
Her head turns in my direction like a robot. For seconds, she stares at me as if I’m a stranger, as if she’s seeing me for the first time in her life. Then slowly, too slowly, her lips pull up in a warm smile.
“Babydoll, what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at school?”
“You haven’t answered my calls since last night.” My voice breaks at the end as I wrap my arms around her neck in a tight embrace. “Why didn’t you answer?”
“My battery died. I forgot to charge it.” She pats my back.
“I was so worried, Mum.” I sniffle into her neck, stopping myself from telling her I didn’t sleep a wink last night. If I hadn’t known Papa had an important meeting this morning, I would’ve made him drive me to her in the middle of the night.
“I’m okay.” She pulls away from me and scowls. “Why are you crying, Silver? Ladies don’t cry in front of other people.”
“Mum…let me tell Papa so he can help you —”
“We spoke of this before,” she cuts me off, her tone turning firm like she’s in a debate. “Sebastian has no involvement in my life anymore. If you tell him anything about me, I’ll consider it a betrayal.”
“But, Mum…”
“He already thinks that I’m on the wrong side of the party and he’s on the right one. Not only has he decided I’m no longer good enough for him, but he also took you away from me, my beautiful baby girl.”
“I’m here, Mum. Do you…do you want me to move in with you?”
“Absolutely not. That will seem as if I’m asking for pity after I announced I want to focus on my career.”
I wish Mum would stop thinking about the media, the press, and her friends when she makes her decisions. I wish she’d look in the mirror — really look in the mirror — and base those decisions on not only her reflection, but also the woman on the inside.
I wish she’d stop trying to prove herself to her dead father who pushed her to be a perfectionist, or to my dead grandparents from Papa’s side who criticised her for everything. They wanted their prodigal son to marry an aristocrat’s daughter, so when he married Mum, they kind of made her life hell as revenge. Nothing was good enough in their eyes. So she took it out on Papa. It was a vicious cycle.
But I learnt to stop wishing for things when it comes to my mum. She’ll only do what she thinks is good for her image and her career.
That’s why she’s been making me slowly but surely change to fit that image.
“Okay, happy thoughts.” She shows me her red lipstick. “This one is amazing. Let me try it on you.”
“Mum —”
“Stay still.” She places her glass of wine on the counter and paints my lips, then looks at me with awe. “Look at you growing into a wonderful young lady. You’re my pride, Silver. It’s because of you that I survive this rotten, man-infested world.”
“Then please answer my calls next time.” I’m still high off the adrenaline, slightly trembling from thinking I’d lost her.
“I will. Now, happy thoughts.” She smiles, and it’s radiant. It’s the reason her snobbish friends are jealous of her – because she’s the most beautiful amongst them all. She’s the one who attracts attention and gets invited to radio and talk shows.
“I got a perfect score in maths.”
“I’m so proud of you.” She strokes my cheek and I lean into her touch, fighting the tears that are about to break free.
I would do anything to keep that expression on her face, so I say, “I…I got engaged to Aiden King.”
“Really? Jonathan’s son?”
I nod, and for the first time since yesterday, it doesn’t feel like the most horrible decision I’ve ever made.
“Look at you, Babydoll, scoring so high when you’re so young.” She sighs dreamily. “You’re the best thing that I got out of that bastard Sebastian.”
I wince. Sometimes, I think Mum forgets he’s my father and that she shouldn’t project her hatred for him on me.
Both of them do it, actually, but Papa is more passive-aggressive about it. Mum is too direct.
Since their divorce, I feel like I age three years for every year. The only things I care about are making Mum happy enough so her mind won’t lead her in the other direction and spending time with Papa in an attempt to reduce his loneliness.
When it gets too much, like too much, I go to the park and cry. In those dark moments, I wish they would never have given birth to me, or I imagine how my life would’ve been if I had whole parents like Ronan’s or Kimberly’s.
Every one of those times, Cole has found me in that park. It’s like he hunts me down just so he can catch me crying.
He sits beside me in silence, mostly reading from a book, and that’s enough to make me stop crying.
It’s enough for my tears to turn to hiccoughs before they eventually disappear.
I hate that he has the ability to calm me down by his presence alone, but I keep my mouth shut about it. I’ve accepted it because we share secrets. He knows something about me no one else does and vice versa.
So his betrayal yesterday stung more than I like to admit. It cut me open and is still refusing to be sewn back together.
I might have hurt him back in the only way I knew how, but unlike what I thought, it doesn’t make me happy.
Not in the least.
If anything, it smashes a heavier weight on my chest.
“Come on, Mum. Go shower. You have to be in that radio studio today, remember?” And yes, I have both my parents’ calendars on my phone. I’m that desperate to be the breeze that makes their lives easier, not harder.
She stands up on wobbly feet and takes my hand in hers. “Remember, Babydoll. Men are only to be used. Feelings and all that stupidity was invented by unsuccessful people. Your worth is what you offer to the world — your beauty, your intelligence, and your competitiveness. No man should steal those from you.” She lays a hand on my heart. “Seal this.” Mum taps my temple. “And you’ll win using this.”
Then she goes to shower. I wait until she gets in her car before I leave. I’m going to listen to her radio show to make sure she’s doing well.
Though I have no doubt she’ll nail it. Mum is a goddess outside the walls of her flat. She allows no one to see her weaknesses. She never gets flustered, not even during the divorce when the reporters didn’t leave us in peace. Papa appeared exhausted and a bit sad at that time, but she put on her best designer clothes and makeup, took all the questions, and told them their decision was amicably made right after she finished a yelling session with Papa.
“Where to, Miss Queens?” Derek asks from the driver seat. I feel sorry for him. Not only does he have to stick to Papa’s hopping schedule, but he also drives me around whenever I wish.
I consider skipping today. My head is mush and I could use ten hours of sleep.
But that would mean running away, and I don’t do that.
I’m the type who runs straight into the middle of the danger instead of shying away from it. If I’m to be killed sooner or later, I will find a solution or die trying.
It’d be worth it.
“To school,” I tell Derek as I scroll through my phone.
My Instagram feed is full of Papa’s campaign friends. There’s a picture of him and Uncle Jonathan participating in the opening of a childcare centre yesterday. That must have been where they came from.
There’s a picture of Mum in LBC’s official Instagram page as a guest for today’s political talk. She looks so radiant in that shot, her smile to die for.
I upload the selfie I took with her before she went out, where we’re smiling at the camera, and caption it: Proud of you, my heroine. #VoteforWomen #WomenforWomen #SuperWoman #CynthiaDavisPoliticalTalk
I schedule another post for later. It’s a picture I took while I was helping Papa put on his tie yesterday.
In the caption, I write: Voted as the best father in the world by yours truly. #ProudDaughter #SebastianQueensForTheWin #GoTories
Whenever I post a pic with one of them, I feel guilty if I don’t follow up with a pic of the other one.
People say you get used to it with time — the double holidays, the double dinners, the double birthday celebrations — but you don’t. Not really.
Especially when one parent is lonely and the other is depressed.
I scroll further and find a picture from Aiden uploaded around one in the morning. It’s a black and white shot of his chessboard.
The caption says: The war has started. Nash?
Cole doesn’t use Instagram or any social media. All pictures of him can only be found on Aiden’s, Xander’s, and especially Ronan’s Instagram accounts.
Does Aiden’s post mean Cole paid him a visit last night? I squash that thought away before I can allow my heart to soak in it.
He wouldn’t have. That would mean he cares, and he doesn’t.
Or, rather, he does, but only if it’s part of his sick games.
I reread his text from yesterday, and the chest tightness I felt when I first saw it swallows me again.
I hate him.
We arrive at school and I thank Derek, then give him a spare bottle of juice on my way out. “Have a wonderful day.”
As soon as I’m out of the car, I lift my chin up, square my shoulders, and walk with my nose practically in the sky. I ignore the ones who tell me good morning and I pretend the world doesn’t exist.
If I talk to them, they’ll start thinking they can be my friends. No one can. That would mean they’ll get close enough to read through me, and I won’t allow that.
My phone vibrates with a text. I retrieve it as I go into the piano room. I have a competition coming up in a few days and I need to perfect my “Moonlight Sonata”. I already took a leave from my morning classes so I could focus on this.
Both my parents are going to be there and I need to do this well. No. I need to win.
The moment my eyes fall on the text, I stop in my tracks.
Unknown Number: Your lips looked beautiful painted in red. Why did you remove it?
I swallow, slowly doing a sweep of the school’s entrance, trying to see if anyone is watching or following me.
After I took the picture with Mum and she left, I removed the lipstick in her building’s lounge area. It means someone saw the post on Instagram and is now seeing me at school.
My shoulder blades snap together and a sense of foreboding slams into me.
Quickening my pace, I head towards the piano room on shaky legs. I place my bag on the chair, settle in front of the piano, take a deep breath, and let my fingers move over the keys.
The trembling fades with each note.
It’s almost like being thrust into a different world, but not really. As the notes escape the piano and get lost in the air, I’m in a peaceful world where the sun shines every day, not like a unicorn, once in a lifetime. In this world, my parents are together, Mum doesn’t have dark thoughts, Papa isn’t so busy, Helen isn’t so sad and…
Dark green eyes barge into my image and I want to chase it away, but it won’t go.
Something dainty wraps around my neck. My fingers miss a note and the sonata is interrupted by a noisy sound.
My head lifts to be greeted by those green eyes from my image. Have I somehow managed to conjure him into life?
Don’t be an idiot.
Then I notice the necklace he’s clicked around my throat. It’s dainty sterling and has a small butterfly pendant, its wings wrapped in an infinity symbol.
Whoa. It’s so beautiful.
It’s nothing like the expensive necklaces Mum gets for me that I only wear when I’m out with her.
I stare back at Cole to find him leaning on the piano, legs crossed at the ankles and his fingers running over the black keys without pressing them.
But his entire attention is on me. I take a moment to see him, the boy, the damnation, Helen’s son who doesn’t deserve to be.
His hair is tousled. Sometimes, I wonder if he bothers to comb it after showers. His physique has started to fill Royal Elite Junior’s uniform. Even the hollow of his neck has become muscled. His shoulders have broadened, his legs have lengthened, and in no time, he’s become way taller than me.
He’s so different from the boy who sat beside me that day at the park. The boy who saw me cry and was about to leave until I made him stay.
One thing hasn’t changed, though. His eyes.
They’re still as hard as back then. Others might find them mesmerising, but I’ve often found them a little bit haunted, a little bit mysterious, and a little bit frightening.
Cole might be the best at hiding his expressions and feelings, but he can’t hide what I see in those dark greens. They have a language all of their own, yet right now, I can’t figure out what they are saying.
My fingers shake, only a little, before I drop them from the necklace and speak in a smaller voice than I would like, “What is this for?”
“Our new beginning.”
“Our new beginning?”
“Yes. Sebastian didn’t say anything?”
Papa did mention he’d tell me something at dinner tonight, but I thought it was about his upcoming travel plans.
“What is he supposed to say?” And why does Cole know about it and I don’t?
He remains silent, almost as if he’s testing my nerves. Scratch that. He’s absolutely doing so.
Then he smiles. It’s blinding, his smile. He doesn’t do it often, but when he does, all I can do is stop and stare. “Congrats on the engagement with Aiden.”
My heart drops and it takes everything in me not to cry. He’s congratulating me? Not that I expected him to tell me not to go through with it after that text, but I thought he’d at least be upset about it.
He’s congratulating me. Seriously?
“Deflowering and an engagement all in one day,” he continues in that calm, infuriating tone. “You work fast, just like your mum.”
“Don’t you dare bring up my mum.” My voice raises. “You have no right to talk about her.”
“Why, Butterfly? Afraid you’ll turn out just like her?” He leans over so only a small breath separates us. “Here’s a reality check: with someone like Aiden, you’ll end up worse than your mother; you’ll end up like his mother. You’ll be found dead after long hours of suffering in the middle of nowhere.”
I raise my fist and punch him in the chest, my eyes stinging. “Screw you, Cole.”
I’m about to remove the necklace and give it back, but he says, “If you remove that, I’ll take it as you’re forfeiting.”
Pursing my lips, I drop my arm. Why does he know the right buttons to push? There’s nothing I hate more than losing before even starting.
“Go away,” I dismiss him. “I don’t want to see your face again.”
“That would be hard, considering the family ties and all.”
“What?”
“Mum and Sebastian are dating.”
Oh, God.
If my jaw could hit the floor, it would right about now.
My plan from a year ago worked. A part of me is thrilled that Helen and Papa have their second chance, but the other part, the one who’s staring at those soulless green eyes, makes me pause.
Cole is Helen’s son.
If this goes any further he’ll be…
No. Nope. I won’t allow my brain to voice that thought.
“Do you know what that means, Butterfly?”
I shake my head frantically, not wanting to think about it.
He places both his palms on my cheeks until his lips hover an inch away from mine and then, just like that, he brushes them against my mouth once before he claims it in a kiss.
It’s nothing like the one from one year ago. It’s not mere massaging of tongues and innocent strokes. This time, he devours me, our teeth clinking together while he aggressively kisses me.
His fingers dig into my skin as he angles my head up and plunges his tongue inside, swirling it against mine. It’s like he can’t get enough.
I can’t get enough.
There’s a voice in my head telling me I should stop this, but I’m too drunk on his taste, on the way he grabs me and eats me alive, to listen to that voice.
As he pulls away, he bites my lower lip, making me wince. Then he whispers near my jaw, “I’ll take good care of you, baby sister.”
His words bring me out of my stupor, but I’m still too numb. I can’t even move my hands up to punch him.
“Don’t waste your time practising.” He makes a loud note by hitting several keys at the same time. “I’ll win the competition.”
Then he turns and leaves.
“I hate you!” I scream at his back and he just waves two fingers without turning around.
My breathing comes in and out in a frenzy long after he’s gone. I can’t calm down. I keep licking my swollen lips without even realising it.
I’m going to hurt him as much as he hurt me.
I’m going to ruin him.
I bring out my phone and dial Papa. He picks up after two rings. He might be busy, but never too busy for me. Besides, he knows I won’t call him unless it’s urgent.
“Is everything okay, Princess?”
“No, Papa.” I adapt my slightly spooked, slightly appalled voice that I learnt from Mum. “I just saw something and I’m not sure if I should tell.”
“This is me, Princess.” His caring but firm tone makes an appearance. “You can tell me anything.”
“But it might get someone in trouble.”
“If they put themselves into trouble, they deserve it. Law doesn’t protect the stupid.”
“It’s our nurse, Miss Goldman.”
“What about her?”
“I was passing by this morning and I heard her making strange noises. I thought she was hurt, but when I peeked in, I saw her…” I take a dramatic pause.
“You saw what?”
“I’m so embarrassed to tell, Papa.”
“You should never be embarrassed to tell the truth.”
“She had her mouth around a boy’s penis,” I blurt.
“Oh, Princess. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of this.”
“Should I tell the principal? I didn’t see the boy’s face.”
“No. I’ll be the one to talk to him. When you go to school tomorrow, that nurse will be history.”
“Thank you, Papa. I love you.”
“I love you, too, Princess. See you later. I have news for you.”
“Can’t wait.” I manage a forced smile as I hang up.
One out of the way.
She shouldn’t have touched an underage kid in the first place. That scum is a paedophile and I’m doing society a favour by using Papa’s power.
Cole thinks he can win in everything, but he doesn’t know the small ways I’ll always win against him.
My fingers run over the necklace.
If he wants a war, then war is what he’ll get.
