Chapter 36
Friends
Sinta
“You two are on my shit list for eternity.” I grouch.
Flopping down into the armchair in our study room, I glare at Yelana and Imelda.
Then realised they were both looking as miserable and dressed down as me.
Well, as dressed-down as Imelda could get.
Lounging in YSL sweatpants and a cashmere sweater, she was on the couch with some sort of lumpy vibrating thing low on her stomach.
Yelana was laid out on the window seat, wearing a slipknot sweatshirt and black tights, another black lumpy vibrating thing on her own abdomen.
“Surprise, now I am forgiven.” Imelda mutters and thrusts another lumpy thing at me.
Taking it, I examine it and realise it is a long black sack full of sand or maybe wheat, with a remote attached to one end.
Laying it on my stomach, the remote lit up with pre-selected settings and instantly began to vibrate.
And it produced heat.
“Oh, it’s a heat pad.” I purr and melt back into the armchair.
“Mhmm, it also contains herbs from Faerie that dampen pain. Sort of like Aspirin but it works ten times better.” Imelda sighs. “Now, what am I in trouble for?”
“Why did neither of you tell me about Festos and Elijah?!” I demand.
My tone was angry, but I was slouched down in the chair in pure relief, so it lessened the effect of my fury.
Imelda tenses, her face scrunching.
“Fucking shit.” Yelana sighs, scrubbing at her hair. “When did he get back?”
I watch them swap exasperated glances. “You didn’t know he was back?”
“He has our cycles noted on his calendar. When we begin them, he stays away.” Imelda sighs, pushing up to lean against the couch’s arm. “There might have been a fire incident when I got my first cycle. What did he do?”
“Showed up at the House, while I was having another fight with Tomashi, and Elijah was ready to gut him.”
“That’d do it.” Yelana mutters. “Imelda, you take this one. I’m not in the mood to explain without setting something on fire.”
Groaning, adjusting so she could see me better, Imelda mutters a curse on her brother. “Okay. Long story short, Elijah had this girlfriend for like four years. They started the Academy together last year, and he was hopelessly in love and completely devoted to her—”
“Not that she fucking deserved it.” Yelana snarls, smoke curling out of her nostrils.
She reaches into a backpack on the floor and pulls out a pack of cigarettes, lighting one.
“And he thought she was devoted to him. They weren’t mates, the bond would have set in already if they were, but by then both were certain they would marry one day. About halfway into the year, the guys went to a party on campus, but Festos had an important meeting to attend so he stayed behind. When they got back, they went upstairs to check on him, and found Elijah’s girlfriend butt ass naked in Festos’s bed.” Wincing, Imelda rolls her eyes. “Festos was in the shower.”
“So…… Festos did fuck Elijah’s girlfriend?” I conclude, disgusted.
“Well…. That is debatable.” Imelda drawls, shaking her head.
“What do you mean? Either he did or he didn’t?” I point out, feeling incensed on Elijah’s behalf.
“At first, he claimed he didn’t. Quite adamantly too. But the boys kicked him out and Tomashi went full protective mode.” Yelana explains. “They wouldn’t hear him out or see him. They just cut him off. Then after about a month it became public knowledge that the bitch had been cheating on Elijah for years – she even had side pieces here. Let’s just say I took great pleasure in making her suffer before she transferred.” She chuckles, exhaling a cloud of smoke.
I didn’t like how evil the sound was and resigned myself to never getting on her bad side.
“Then some Elite girls came forward and admitted that she had been plotting to hook up with one of the Princes the whole time. She’d been using Elijah as a way in – a stepping stone—”
“For four years?” I exclaim.
Imelda nods. “Yes. You weren’t raised in our world; you didn’t make yourself a place in it like Aletha. You have no idea the lengths these girls will go to in order to bag themselves royalty.”
“So, Festos denied it. But the boys cut him out and got rid of her…….. then what?”
“When everything about her came out, they thought maybe they had overreacted and there was more to the story, so they tried to talk to him.” Lips twisting, Imelda fusses with her heat pad. “That was three months later. By then, Festos had built a group of followers, was residing in a new House Mother paid to be built for him, had set himself up as The King of campus, and would no longer talk about it.”
“He lived in Rising House?”
“Yes. In your room.” Imelda confirms.
“Okay. But if he was innocent?”
“It’s no longer about innocence. Not for Festos.” Yelana murmurs. “Elijah was his best friend. He’s a year ahead of them and was here alone at the Academy until they came. He was so excited to have his brothers around him. Then she happened, and they just tossed him out. Wouldn’t listen to him, wouldn’t talk to him, Tomashi and Elijah started attacking him on sight. It hurt him. Now he refuses to talk about it out of pride and stubbornness. And Elijah…… Elijah never got closure. He’ll never know if one of his best friends and brother actually betrayed him or not. Females have been a sore subject for the entire group of them since then.”
Thinking back, I remember the anger coming from Elijah. The hurt look on his face.
He'd been devastated.
I’d underestimated, or maybe chose to be blind to, just how messed up the boy’s lives were. Having to constantly guard against people wanting to use them, hurt them, kill them. Wanting to trust someone but ending up stabbed in the back.
I didn’t understand how they weren’t jaded beyond repair.
Or how they had let me in so easily. Well, most of them.
“Does Elijah have, um, issues with relationships now?”
They both shrug.
“We couldn’t tell you. He hasn’t been seriously involved with a female again until you.” Imelda answers.
Wow. I suddenly felt an immense pressure on my shoulders.
I was dating his friends and brothers.
Did he have an issue with that he hadn’t voiced? He always felt so steady and dependable I hadn’t considered he might be having issues with our…. Arrangement.
“I need to talk to him.” I realise, feeling guilty for essentially taking him for granted.
“Yes, you do.” Yelana agrees. “And Tomashi too.”
“Absolutely fucking not.” I snarl.
“Why? He’s not any different than the others, his issues are just more obvious.” She insists.
“Not after he called me a whore, a gold digger, accused me of trying to kill them all, and then told the guys that I used to—” Cutting off abruptly, I wince and look away.
“That you used to what?” Imelda prods.
“You don’t need to know. It doesn’t matter.” I wave it away. “The point is, he does not get to treat me that way and then expect me to understand that he has issues, and I should automatically forgive him because of it.”
“No one said anything about forgiving him. But understanding him and then holding him accountable for treating you badly is a good way to handle it.” Yelana pushes.
“Since when are you so in touch with your feelings?” Imelda snickers.
“My therapist might have mentioned it.” She deadpans. “And I might have taken it to heart and smacked Tomashi around every time he mouthed off at me. Now he keeps his mouth shut.”
“I was wondering how you got him to be nice to you.” I snort. “I thought it was just because you guys had grown up together.”
She shrugs.
“Are you mad at him because he told the guys you used to work at Angel’s Fare?” Imelda asks suddenly.
I jolt upright and gape at her, and Yelana gapes at both of us.
The room is quiet for several long heart-pounding beats.
My chest constricts. Panic and this sinking feeling turning my stomach into a queasy mess. I think I was going to puke.
“Did I hear that right?” Yelana demands. “You were a stripper? How did we never see you?”
“See me?” I exclaim, then shake my head. “And no, I wasn’t a stripper.”
Imelda shrugs. “Hello, I’m royalty. We can’t just go out and hook up with whoever we want all the time. This might be a modern time, but females are still criticised over sex. Angel’s Fare is a good establishment. I often visited when I was in the area – my favourite escort was Paulo for a while.”
I remembered Paulo. He was gorgeous, looked shockingly like Johnny Depp, and had been the most requested escort until he met his mate and left.
“Gods damn my soul, I can’t take any more surprises.” I croak, sinking down and hugging the heat pack. “That doesn’t explain how you knew I worked there.”
“Tomashi isn’t the only one with a PI. When he got back to me and I reviewed the information, I decided none of it was particularly damaging to me and it was wholly your business if you wished to tell me or not.”
“So you decide to blurt it out now in front of Yelana?!” I gripe, pointing at the female whose head was volleying back and forth like she was watching a tennis match.
Imelda glances away sheepishly. “Well, if Tomashi and the boys know it’s only a matter of time before one of them told us. We may be a dysfunctional family, but we don’t tend to keep secrets from each other. They’ve already called me to talk about you.”
“You tell them how my tutoring is going?!” I yell.
“No, no. They call to talk about how much they like you. Fade calls me to ask my opinion on date ideas and such.” She denies, realising how distressed I am and sitting up. “They really like you. At this point I even suspect Tomashi may—”
“No.” I growl.
She shuts up and sits back, clearly realising she’s overstepped and feeling bad about it.
The pitiful look she gives me is heartfelt, but I am so far off balance right now that I cannot deal with it.
“If you weren’t a stripper, then what were you?” Yelana demands, still frozen and staring at me.
“Seriously! That’s what you’re concerned about?!” I yell.
“Yes.”
“A Dominatrix.” I huff. “There, happy?!”
Slumping back, her face kind of slack, Yelana nods and stares at the wall.
None of us says a word for ages. Just sitting there and stewing in our own thoughts and hormones.
“I’m sorry—”
“Nope. No.” I hush Imelda, shaking my head. “I’m not going to be mad at you forever, but right now I am high on hormones and worried I will say something I don’t mean, so how about we just don’t talk about it.”
“But you do understand why—”
“Yes. You are a Princess, you have to constantly guard yourself from people and their intentions. Your safety is constantly at risk. Rarely do people genuinely want to know you. I get it.” I tell her, watching the worry melt from her face when she realises, I really do understand. “Just do me a favour and not blurt out any more of my secrets to people, okay? Thanks.”
She goes to speak.
“Actually, I change my mind, stop with whole PI thing altogether. If you have questions for me, just fucking ask.” I snap.
She grimaces and nods.
“Tomashi had much the same reasoning—” Yelana tries.
“I don’t care about Tomashi. All he wanted was to hurt me, and make the guys throw me away.” I snap. “And he failed anyway, because Rapid already knew and Fade and Elijah just thought it was hot.”
Yelana grins. “Rapid already knew, huh? You two been having some fun—oof!”
The pillow I peg at her hits her square in the face and sends her tumbling onto the floor with a heavy thump.
“Ow.” She moans, unmoving.
Imelda snorts a laugh, then keeps laughing, her hands clutching her stomach.
My lips wiggle with the urge to join her.
“I’d never land a hit, hey?” I smugly croon.
Yelana flips me off and flops onto her back.
My laughter joins Imelda’s and suddenly we are all cackling like hyenas.
I didn’t feel so bad now. Is this what friends were for? Lift you up and make you feel better about shitty situations?
I decided it wasn’t so bad, and that I liked not being alone.
I liked having friends.
Returning to the house, I see the guys out the back in the heated pool, splashing around, and give them a smile when they shout for me.
I shake my head when Rapid yells for me to join them, going up to my room instead.
Setting the heat pad that was officially my new best friend onto my bed, I frown when it jostles my blanket and reveals a white shopping bag with my name written on it.
Taking a seat on the bed, I reach out and open it.
Inside are three bundles neatly wrapped with white tissue paper and a sticker with some sort of logo on it.
“Mon Drakken.” I read from the label. “No fucking way, this shit costs more than Gucci.” I mutter and pull out the packages.
A note flutters onto my lap, written in a scrawl I don’t recognise.
“’Devil Eyes, no takebacks. From Rapid, Elijah, and Fade.’” I read aloud. “No fucking way.”
Ripping open one of the packages, a beautiful one-piece black swimsuit with grey pinstripes falls out. It has one thick shoulder band, a cut out of the ribs and waist on the opposite side, and wide coverage for the ass and private area.
It was gorgeous, but also gave off a sophisticated and stylish feel.
Opening the next package, I’m stunned by the pale metallic gold two-piece that tumbles out. It’s simple, with a halter top that covers my entire chest and ties in the back, with a square neck. And the bottoms sit low on my abdomen but cover my ass perfectly.
Sexy but still respectful.
Pulling the last package to me, I reveal a black bikini with shiny green flame decal.
The top is only just decent, with large triangle cups and a thin string between them. The fabric was a solid black, and the flames were a mixture of shiny metallic greens, giving off a living-glow effect.
The bottoms were cheeky panties – my mound and privates were perfectly covered, but they would frame my ass cheeks – like a G-string but with way more coverage.
“Rapid.” I laugh, then grab the gold bikini. “Elijah. And that one is definitely Fade.” I murmur as I look at the one piece.
All different, but all gorgeous.
Just like my guys.
Lips tilting into a reluctant smile, I grab the black bikini and head to the bathroom to change and put in some sanitary protection, since I was still on my period.
Rapid is the only one in the pool when I make it back downstairs, the other two having disappeared.
He's swimming lazy backstroke laps as I exit the house.
“Where did the other two go?”
Turning his head, Rapid jerks in the water and almost goes under, frantically kicking his legs.
I step towards the pool edge in case I need to help him, then remember that he’s an aquatic shifter and can’t actually drown.
“Holy hell, Devil Eyes.” He gasps, his eyes scorching my skin.
“You like?” I tease and do a twirl.
“Do I fucking like it? Your ass looks so fucking biteable, baby.” He laughs and swims to the edge of the pool, a hand reaching for me.
Accepting it, I lower to sit on the edge.
He wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me down into the warm water, sandwiching me between him and the wall.
“You chose the bikini I picked.” He says with a smug smile.
“I liked all of them, but black is the safest one right now.” I murmur. “I saw the brand. Please don’t tell me you guys spent a crazy amount of money on swimwear.”
“Fine. I won’t tell you.”
I don’t like the arrogant, smug look in his eyes.
“Rapid.”
“Hush.” He croons and kisses me.
It was a pretty effective way to shut me up.
Moaning, my legs curling around him, I run desperate fingers along his shoulders and dig my nails into his flesh.
“Seeing you in shit I bought is fucking hot.” He breathes and spins, backing himself up against the wall and slotting my feet into grip holes I hadn’t known were there, making it easier to hold myself up in the water.
“You guys have good taste.” I murmur between kisses. “Thank you, baby.”
“Oh, don’t be thanking me. Fade has plans to spoil you rotten now that he’s seen the inside of your closet.” He chuckles.
“What? Why were you in my closet?”
“We had to check what size you were.” He points out, grinning. “And I wanted a sneak peak at your other goodies.”
“I should smack you stupid.” I scold, but I’m smiling.
He was so goofy and unserious it made it impossible to stay mad at him.
“You won’t, you like my face.” He chuckles and nips at my jaw.
Tilting my head back, feeling him nip, lick, and kiss a trail down my neck to my cleavage, I moan and mutter his name as he works on leaving marks on my sensitive flesh.
“Do these count as a Gifting from all of you?”
“Imelda or Yelana?”
“Yelana. She was very clear I shouldn’t accept any of you without a Gift.” I purr.
“Of course she was. Yeah, Devil Eyes. The first of many.” He murmurs, sucking at my breast.
I arch into it, encouraging him.
“Just relax, baby. Enjoy the water.” He orders and bites.
Clutching his head, I wrap myself around him, enjoying the sensations, my head rolling on my shoulders.
He palms my ass with possessive hands, alternating between massaging the flesh and dancing his fingers along my spine.
So relaxed I melt into him, letting him hold me afloat.
It takes me a while to realise someone is standing at the patio door, watching us.
Eyes linking with Tomashi, green orbs against blazing red, I stare him down while he watches his boyfriend worship my skin.
He stares right back, glaring into my eyes, but his gaze keeps slipping downwards.
Either to Rapid’s head or my chest, I wasn’t sure. But I was reasonably confident he couldn’t see anything important, even as Rapid slips his fingers under the cup of my top and palms my tit.
My dragon shifts within me, eyeing him, bristling the longer he stands there and encroaches on our private time.
I refuse to acknowledge the arousal I feel from being watched – I’d never been into voyeurism before, I wasn’t starting now.
But my own eyes dip down Tomashi’s form, taking in the ripped-up black tank and his signature leather bike pants with the ribbed knees.
My gaze snags at his waist, and the hand he has slipped into his pants. The hand that was very obviously wrapped around something.
Sucking in a startled breath, the sound quiet against Rapid’s hair, I watch Tomashi pump the hand once, twice, before my gaze snaps back up to his face.
Rapid sucks hard on my neck, tugging my hips to grind against him.
“What’s wrong?” He hums against my neck.
“To—" Clearing my throat, I try to breathe. “Tomashi is watching us.”
Rapid doesn’t pause his ministrations, doesn’t yell for him to leave.
No. He gets rougher, bolder, playing my body like his beloved guitar and forcing a symphony of moans from me.
While his boyfriend watches.
I swear the pool was sizzling with tension. Zapping with rampant, sultry energy.
My lungs couldn’t take it.
And I was still fucking furious with that arrogant masochist.
Lips peeling back, my dragon rising, we rumble a threat.
Pinning me with an unreadable look, watching me moan and writhe against Rapid, Tomashi storms back inside and out of sight.
I don’t see him again, but I swear I see a curtain twitch upstairs as we spend the rest of the night in the pool.
I spend my Sunday morning training with Yelana.
Or rather, trying to train with Yelana.
Reaching deep within myself, searching for the link to my dragon, I breathe deeply and try to picture funnelling her strength into my limbs, sharing her power between us.
But no matter how I picture it – tugging, flowing, pouring into me, bursting into me – it wasn’t coming.
“This isn’t working.” I sigh, frustrated.
“Because you are still thinking like a human.” Yelana argues.
Opening my eyes, glaring at the female sitting cross-legged before me, I have to stop myself from screaming at her.
“I’m not. It’s. Not. Working.”
“You are. Tell me exactly what you are doing.” She insists.
“I’m picturing my dragon on one end of a string, and me on the other, and her power travelling along the string and into me.” I growl. “Exactly like you said!”
“You’re thinking. That’s the problem.” She sighs. “Stop that. Magic is emotion – instinctual and fuelled by intention. It is Fae. You are trying to do it like a human. You aren’t human.” She scolds.
“I’m not thinking like a human.” I deny.
“Yes, you are. You can’t just think it into being. You have to trigger it – with emotion. It has to be a reflex –.” Shaking her head, she huffs a frustrated sigh. “Your mind is too convoluted with human crap. Being denied your culture has fucked up your very core. It’s like trying to reprogram a dud computer.”
“Fuck you.” I bark, snarling. “I’m fucking trying.”
“That’s all well and good, but it means nothing when you’re trying the wrong fucking thing!” She yells.
“THEN TELL ME WHAT TO DO!”
“I AM, DAMMIT!”
Roaring out a breath, Yelana shoves to standing and storms away.
Facing a charred wall, she hunkers down and bellows her frustration.
Ruby and gold flame streams from her mouth, licking at the ancient stone.
I jerk back away from the heat, my heart thumping.
Cutting the stream off with an abrupt turn, she pants and smooths her hands through her hair.
“Fucking hell.” I whisper, trying to calm my racing pulse.
“Emotion.” She breathes. “Emotion is the corner stone from which we form our magic. Anger, frustration, sadness, joy, love. It is fuel.”
“Okay?”
“I think you need to get angry.” She decides, nodding to herself. “I think you have spent so long locking away your emotions that it’s cut off your connection to you magic.”
I glance at the charred wall.
“I don’t see the connection.” I scoff.
“Not yet.” She says. “But you will. Fighting Tremore in the Pit. You used your magic – bolstered your strength with it. What triggered it?”
“You want a list?” I laugh, the sound harsh.
“Yes. List it. Tell me what you felt.” She encourages.
“Injustice. Anger. Disbelief.” I ramble, my eyes rolling. “Seeing Kenya be hurt like that. The Professor not doing anything. Tremore’s friends fucking laughing about it—"
“That’s not going to cut it. You need memories. Experiences.” She barks. “Think about things from your past – heavy emotional stuff.”
I glare at her. “No.”
“Sinta.”
“I shoved all of that shit into a deep, dark hole, Yelana. I can’t just pull it out.” I tell her. “I don’t think I could put it back.”
“Good.” She says.
Good. Fucking good?
“You don’t know what your asking of me……” Shaking my head, I look away.
“I know that you sequester your emotions. I know you are so fucking careful with everything – but I don’t know why.” Snorting, she gestures at me. “First day we met you, I thought you were this sheltered, scared-of-her-own shadow delicate thing. Then I watched you beat Tremore’s ass.”
“Because he hurt Kenya—”
“And because you finally let go. You stopped shoving your emotions away.” She growls.
“I nearly killed him!”
“Yes! Yes you did.” She looks at me like that proves something.
“Yelana, I almost killed a guy, because I was angry.” I shake my head. “How does that make me any better than Grande?”
“Motive.” She intones. “You were defending an innocent. It makes all the difference.”
Sucking in a breath, I look away.
“We are a race of primal emotion. We operate on instinct, and magic, and feeling. Humans call us savage, barbaric – but they are shackled by their rules and societal influence and fucking restraint.”
Their apathy.
She thought I was so detached from my Fae nature because I…… didn’t express myself. Like a human.
Because I denied my instincts and stifled my emotions.
“Did you ever fight back when they pushed you? Did you scream and yell and rebel when your idiot foster parents mistreated you?” She prods. “Did you even try to express your anger, and frustration, or did you shove it all down and turn into a fucking shadow of yourself?”
I……… Oh.
“I thought…… It’s harder to hit a smaller target.” I whisper.
“And in doing so you…..?” She prods.
“I learnt to be quiet. Unseen. I learnt to act certain ways….” I frown. “I changed.”
“They made you into this. They crippled you.”
Did they? Was that really what happened?
The abuse, the neglect…….. the segregation. The loneliness.
Did they? Or did I let them?
I chose to become smaller, to mould myself into a thin, unapproachable, thick-skinned version of myself.
I thought it was the only way to survive.
But was I wrong? Was there another way?
And what did I think I was going to do? Just shut away all my emotions until the day I died? Just pretend they didn’t exist.
“You need to let it out, Sin. It’s time.” Yelana whispers. “Your emotions, the ones you’ve buried – I’d bet my life that they are the blockage. The gateway to your magic.”
I had to let them out.
Feeling like I was sinking, my chest heavy, I shake my head.
“I’m right here.” She says. “I’ll help you through it.”
“It’s…. it’s a lot, Yelana. Too much.” I croak. “Nineteen years worth.”
“Then start slow.”
Start slow.
Approaching that pit in my mind, standing before it, all I saw was an eternal free-fall into darkness.
It could swallow me whole.
If I let it.
“Reclaim it all, Sinta. Undo all of their damage. And set it free.”
I wasn’t even sure where to start.
But maybe….. Maybe that didn’t matter.
“……… The first time I fought back at school, the girls caught me in the locker room the next day and poured rotten milk on me. They stole my clothes.”
“……More.”
“The day they removed me from the Fae Culture class. There was no warning, Mrs Cresky just dragged me out. The last thing I got to learn about was a map of Faerie.”
“Keep going.”
“My foster parents…… laughing when I asked for a shirt without holes in it—” Breathe hitching, I shake my head. “I was twelve.”
“Fuck.” She sucks in a breath, and I hear her moving around. “Darker.”
Darker. Darker she says. She didn’t know what she was asking for.
And once I started….. it all came pouring out.
“The day boys cornered me in a hallway. Ripped my clothes and filmed it – they sent it to the whole school. My foster parents grounded me for two weeks over it and the school suspended me. The boys weren’t punished. My fitness teacher pairing me with magic-users, telling them to use me like a practise dummy, because I couldn’t fight back. Never having enough food. The first time Aletha chose popularity over me…… she gave her new friends the key to my locker. They set everything in it on fire, and my fosters parents wouldn’t replace it – th—the,” Clearing my throat, I try to speak past the gathering tears. “The brand-new jacket I bought myself, because my fingertips kept turning blue. Mrs Paulos took it and ordered the maid to use it as a rag. Being teased for my shoes having holes. When I started working, and bought new things, everyone spread rumours I was whoring on street corners. Boys kept trying to shove money down my pants—”
Choking, tears stream down my face, drenching my cheeks.
My dragon thrashes in my middle, snarling.
“Keep going, Sinta. Let it out.” Yelana whispers.
“Aletha watching them beat me in the cafeteria – before I realised she never fucking cared. Me begging her to stop them, crying for her. My teachers telling me I’m not good enough. My high school counsellor telling me not to hope for a future; she actually told me I’d be well-suited as someone’s mistress.”
My laugh was broken and jagged.
“I almost had to repeat tenth grade because some asshole cheated off of me, but of course I was the weak powerless snake, so I must have been the cheater. The first time a boy pretended to like me, just so he could sleep with me – I caught him trying to film it and ran.”
Gods, the humiliation. The hurt.
I couldn’t even tell anyone. I had no one to go to.
“The day I was trapped in a curse, and I had to obey every order they gave me. When Aletha came to me at Paulos Estate, said she hated my small room, and then told me to stop talking to her at school. Because I was embarrassing her.”
I was sobbing. I couldn’t stop it.
I mean…... I never realised how much I’d just shoved away.
How much I’d buried.
Because I didn’t want to break.
“Aletha’s disappointed face when I knocked out a bully for the first time – everyone looked shocked, but she was just staring at me like I was a disappointment.” I spit, shaking my head. “Like I should have just kept taking it.”
“You never asked for help?”
“Help? Help?! A teacher tried to take advantage of me – he threatened to tank my grades. I slammed his head into the desk so hard I heard his skull crack – I threatened to go to my foster parents and have him fired. I was just lucky he didn’t know they hated me.”
Wiping at my face, I shake my head, panting.
“Fighting every fucking day just to get an education. Showing up to every class even though I knew they’d torture me, because I wanted a fucking future. The day I found out Mrs Paulos hacked my bank account and stole the money I had saved. She said it was owed to her because I was an unnecessary expense. Mailing my acceptance test back to the Academy – the mail clerk gave me this look and said not to get my hopes up. The end-of-year assembly and the principle giving my diploma to Mrs Paulos because I had ‘no real use for it’.”
I was boiling, my head throbbing.
I could feel it, like a geyser beneath my skin. The anger. The helplessness. The fucking fury—
“Aletha announcing coming to the Academy, when she NEVER EVEN FUCKING WANTED IT—"
The roar rips out of me.
It's an aching, tearing scream of anger. Of frustration. Of hurt and pain and fucking betrayal.
Years of repressed, smothered, aching torture.
I let it all out. Roared and roared and fucking ROARED.
Until my throat burned. Until my voice gave out.
Until I had nothing left but my charred, damaged insides.
“The day I realised my own twin was stabbing me in the back.” I whisper, the words broken. “The day I realised I had no one.”
I couldn’t stop the sob if I wanted to. Or the next one.
Until I was sobbing and crying, broken on that stone floor. My jagged edges exposed.
And I felt something crack inside me.
I felt the rush – felt the flood of indescribable energy flooding my being.
“Sinta.”
“I had to steal my own fucking diploma back. Had to sneak into her room like a thief.” I cry, shaking my head. “I spent the last year of high school coming home with bloody knuckles from fending off everyone. I never got a break – not fucking one. The Academy was supposed to be different.”
“Sin.”
“But it’s not!” I cry, burying my head in my hands.
“Sinta, open your eyes.”
Peering up at Yelana, she’s not where I thought she’d be.
She’s on her knees before me, her eyes wide, tears glistening on her cheeks.
But she’s smiling.
“Look.” She urges, and gestures to my arms.
To the green flames flickering along my flesh.
My gasp is hoarse, my throat burning.
“You did it.” She beams.
I break down. I ball my eyes out.
She gathers me into her arms, uncaring of the flames, and hugs me.
“You did it, Sinta. You did it.” She whispers, rubbing my back. “You aren’t alone anymore. We’ve got you now.”
I choke out a sound, my chest heaving.
“That sister of yours is a dead women walking.” She seethes.
I cried even harder.