Chapter 13
Ophelia
“Scars-Papa Roach”
Avoiding Hayden has become a full-time job. And I hate myself for it, because every single night I still stare at my bedroom window hoping he’ll climb through it anyway.
Pathetic right?
I spend my days running from him while my nights are consumed by memories of his hands, his voice, his stupid crooked smile.
Every creak outside my window makes my heart jump.
Every motorcycle engine sends panic and hope crashing through me at the same time, but he never comes back.
Not after the warehouse. Not after I left him standing there looking at me like he wanted to destroy me and worship me all at once.
So now I avoid every place he could possibly be.
No races.
No parties.
No Dungeon.
Nothing.
Because seeing him alive hurts worse than grieving ever did. At least when he was dead, I could still pretend he loved me the same way.
Now I know better.
Now I know he looks at me and sees betrayal. Even if neither of us fully understands why.
Brimstone High feels unbearable lately. Every hallway whispers with gossip. Every classroom suffocates me beneath fake smiles and rich-kid bullshit.
And somehow, Hayden’s street name keeps floating through conversations like a curse specifically designed to ruin me.
I keep my head down all morning.
Fake smile. Perfect posture. Good girl.
By lunch, I’m already exhausted from pretending I’m not unraveling internally.
So, I escape to the girls bathroom near the west wing hoping for five damn minutes of silence.
No such luck.
The second I step inside, I hear giggling near the mirrors.
“…I’m serious, he’s so hot.”
I freeze instantly.
Two junior girls stand near the sinks reapplying lip gloss while scrolling through pictures on one of their phones.
And there he is. Hayden.
A blurry photo from the Dungeon. Bloody knuckles. Bare tattooed chest. Green eyes sharp beneath bruises.
My chest tightens painfully.
“He’s dangerous in like… the hottest way possible,” the brunette gushes. “I heard he’s a drug kingpin. They call him Ghost. I bet he has a big dick.”
The blonde grins. “Mhm. Ryder said he’s basically psycho.” She giggles as my pulse pounds harder and harder.
“Honestly?” the brunette says while zooming in on Hayden’s face. “I’d let him ruin my life while Ryder’s blowing my back out.”
Something inside me snaps.
Completely.
Because they don’t know him.
Either of them for that matter.
They don’t know the boy who used to sneak me milkshakes at two in the morning because I was sad. They don’t know how gentle his hands could be. How he kissed my tears away like they physically hurt him too.
They don’t get to stand here turning him into some fantasy while my heart still bleeds for him.
Before I even realize I’m moving, I rip the phone out of the brunette’s hand, causing them both to jump.
“What the hell?” she shouts.
“Shut up,” I hiss, and the cunt scoffs at me.
“Excuse me, bitch?”
“You fucking heard me,” I growl as the blonde rolls her eyes.
“God, Fitzgerald, calm down. It’s not that serious.”
Not that serious.
Not.
That.
Serious.
I see fucking red.
The brunette reaches for the phone and I shove her hard enough that her back slams against the sink. Her shocked gasp echoes through the bathroom.
“What is your problem?!” she screeches.
“My problem?” I laugh. “You wanna know what my fucking problem is?” Then she makes the mistake of smirking.
“He’s hot, Ophelia. It's not my fault your boyfriend got his ass beat by him.”
Wrong answer, bitch.
I grab her by the hair instantly and slam her face into the mirror. Glass cracks loudly and the blonde screams, but I’m too far gone now. Three years of grief. One month of heartbreak. A lifetime of rage shoved down my throat. It all explodes at once.
The brunette claws at my arms while I drag her to the floor and hit her.
Once. Twice.
Again.
“You don’t know him!” I scream through the tears. “You don’t get to talk about him!”
Blood smears across her lip while girls start shrieking outside the bathroom doors.
Someone yells for security.
The blonde tries pulling me off her friend.
Bad idea, honey.
I shove her so hard she crashes into a stall door then I'm back on the brunette again. My fists ache as my breathing turns ragged. Mascara burns down my cheeks while years of pain pour out of me like hot lava. “He was MINE!” I scream as the confession rips out of me.
Security finally bursts in and drags me off her while I thrash against their grip. The brunette sobs on the floor, clutching her bleeding nose, while students crowd the doorway staring at me like I’m insane.
Maybe I am.
Because somewhere along the way, grief turned feral inside me.
By noon… I’m suspended for ten days.
Ten fucking days.
Of course they called my father and he came into the school throwing his power around, and now… the drive home is silent—deadly. I know I’m in for it, but fuck it.
It was worth it.
I stare blankly out the passenger window while dried blood stains my knuckles as my father sits beside me radiating disappointment so thick it suffocates the entire car. He doesn’t speak until we pull into the driveway.
Then his voice slices through the silence coldly.
“You’ve become an embarrassment.” Hit one.
I swallow hard but say nothing. I just keep staring ahead because if I look at him right now, I might scream. Or cry… or finally tell him I know Hayden is alive and watch his entire carefully constructed world burn down around him.
Instead, I say nothing as we get out of the car and into the house. He grabs my arm and drags me towards his office.
Once there, he forces me into the chair, and when he shuts the door, it suddenly feels colder than usual.
“I defended you after the overdose,” he says calmly while loosening his tie. Hit two. “After the Dungeon incident. After your increasingly erratic behavior towards Brayden,” he grits, his eyes sharpening. “But this?”
I cross my arms tightly around myself. “She deserved it.”
His expression darkens instantly.
“You attacked another student over a boy.”
“No.” My voice shakes. “I attacked her because she wouldn’t stop talking.”
“About Hayden Marks?”
The sound of Hayden’s name coming from my father’s mouth makes me sick.
“You need psychiatric help,” he says flatly. “Not romance.”
Something inside me cracks.
“You don’t get to talk about him,” I spit, and his jaw flexes.
“I’ll talk about whatever I please inside my own home.”
“He loved me!” I scream. “At least someone did!”
The room goes deathly still.
Fuck! I’m swimming in shark infested waters.
My father steps closer.
Dangerous. Controlled. “Do you know what happens to girls who can’t behave?” he asks as ice crawls down my spine.
Because I do know. Everyone does.
The Brimstone House.
A finishing school wrapped in hellfire. A place where wealthy families send daughters who embarrass them. Girls come back quiet afterward.
Obedient.
Hollow-eyed.
Rumors about that place slither through Brimstone High like nightmares. Women trained through humiliation. Punishment disguised as etiquette. Powerful men using girls however they pleased because their families signed the paperwork allowing it.
Fear tightens around my throat instantly.
“No…”
My father watches the panic spread across my face calmly.
“That house belongs to your mother’s side of the family.
Not mine,” he says, his voice turning to disgust. “Cynthia’s bloodline, while yes, she is a Fitzgerald, and I took her name because of what it holds…
has always specialized in correcting women. ”
Tears burn my eyes. “Please…”
“You will learn obedience one way or another, Ophelia.”
My chest starts heaving, my hands begin to sweat. I think I’m having a panic attack. ”Y-you wouldn’t s-send me there,” I stutter.
“Try me.”
The room tilts sideways and all I want is Hayden.
“I’m your daughter,” I whisper.
“No.” His eyes go cold. “You’re a liability,” he states, and the words shatter something inside me completely.
He sighs heavily like I’m exhausting him.
“I’m too busy to deal with this childish nonsense anymore.” He then steps toward the door before pausing. “If Hayden Marks’ name crosses your lips again…” His voice lowers dangerously. “I’ll make sure you spend enough time at the Brimstone House to forget him completely.”
Fear and rage collide inside me, but I stay quiet. Because my father still doesn’t know Hayden’s alive and he absolutely cannot find out.
The second he leaves, I collapse onto the floor shaking. Brimstone House. God. I’ve heard girls cry over that place in locker rooms and bathrooms. Stories whispered through tears about rich men, punishments, and women who never came back the same.
My father wouldn’t… would he?
A sob lodges painfully in my throat. I don’t know anymore. I can’t go there.
I won’t.
About an hour passes and I’m still curled on my bed staring blankly at nothing when footsteps echo down the hallway outside my room. Two sets. My stomach drops instantly, then my father’s voice. “She’s inside.”
Ice floods every vein in my body as a woman laughs softly outside my bedroom door. Not warm. Not kind. Predatory.
“Well,” she drawls smoothly. “Let’s see what little Cynthia produced.”
OH MY GOD. NO!
Panic blows through me as the doorknob rattles once then again harder.
“Ophelia,” my father says calmly through the door. “Open it.”
I can’t breathe.
This isn’t happening.
“No!”
The woman laughs again. “Feisty. We’ll break that quickly.”
Terror slams into me so violently instinct takes over before logic can catch up. I run.
The second the bedroom door starts unlocking from the outside, I shove open my window and climb out onto the balcony barefoot.
Cold air whips against my skin while my pulse pounds so hard I feel dizzy.
“OPHELIA!” my father roars behind me.
Too late. I jump.
The landing nearly snaps my ankle but adrenaline keeps me moving. I sprint across the massive lawn of the estate while voices shout behind me.
I don’t stop running.
Not through Hillcreek Bay.
Not even when my lungs start burning.
Tears stream down my face while I fumble my phone from my pocket and call Bianca. She answers instantly.
“Babe?”
“Please pick me up,” I choke out breathlessly. “Please.”
Her voice changes immediately. “Where are you?”
I glance around wildly while sprinting down another street. “Near the east gate.”
“I’m coming. Stay where you are,” she says, and the line goes dead.
Ten minutes later, Bianca’s Jeep screeches around the corner, and I practically throw myself inside.
The second the doors shut, I burst into tears.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Bianca says quickly while grabbing my face gently. “What happened?”
“He tried to send me there,” I sob. “He actually fucking tried.”
Bianca’s face goes pale. ”To Brimstone House?”
I nod.
“Jesus Christ.” She immediately locks the doors and speeds away from the neighborhood. “Fuck that. Absolutely the fuck not.”
Fresh tears blur my vision while I curl into myself in the passenger seat. “I’m scared, B.”
“I know.” Her voice softens. “But you’re okay now.”
Am I? Because my entire life feels like it's collapsing around me lately.
Silence stretches for a minute before Bianca finally glances over carefully.
“So…” she says, taking a deep breath. “Hayden.”
Just hearing his name wrecks me again. I wipe angrily at my tears.
“Don’t.”
“You know we need to talk about this. He’s fucking alive, babe. Alive,” she says as the tears fall helplessly down my face.
“I know. I fucking know. And I don’t know what to do about it. Fuck. I don’t know how I feel about it other than… joy… pain… relief… but—B,” I say, and she reaches for my hand squeezing it.
“It’s okay, O. You still love him.”
It isn’t a question.
But I can’t help but feel sadness for her. Hayden may be alive but Justin… her twin… is still gone. It’s just not fair.
I stare out the window helplessly while the sun begins to set and the street lights turn on. “He looked at me like he hated me,” I whisper, and Bianca snorts.
“Girl. That man looked at you like he wanted to fight God for breathing near you.”
A broken laugh escapes despite myself. Then sadness crashes back in immediately.
“I don’t know what we are anymore,” I whisper, and she squeezes my hand once.
“Maybe you’re two traumatized idiots with unresolved feelings and terrible communication skills.”
“That’s oddly specific,” I say with a raised brow.
“I’m observant. But one day soon—I need the truth from him,” she says, eyeing me, and I know she means business.
She’s right though.
The truth of what happened that night is what she deserves. It's the least he can do.
Eventually, the Jeep pulls into the warehouse district where another massive party is already raging.
Music shakes the pavement while people flood in and out. Bianca parks and turns toward me carefully.
“You sure you wanna go in?” she asks.
No. But I also can’t go home. So I nod anyway.
“B, you got shoes?” I laugh, and she rolls her eyes, reaching into the backseat and grabbing a pair of sneakers.
“You really left in a hurry,” she says, and I just shake my head, taking the sneakers and sliding them onto my feet.
The warehouse is packed wall to wall tonight. Except Reid isn’t here, neither are Asher or Stone. So who the hell is in charge?
For the first few minutes, I almost manage to breathe again.
Then the energy in the room shifts.
No.
I turn slowly and look toward the warehouse doors and, of course, there he is. Hayden.
My entire heart stumbles painfully because after a whole month of avoiding him…
I need him. I need him now more than ever.
I don’t know why, because I’ve dealt with this shit for years without him.
But now, it feels entirely different. All I want is for him to hold me and tell me I’ll never end up at the Brimstone House.
That he will protect me. Even if it’s all a lie.
I just need to feel the warmth of his skin.
The sound of his heartbeat. His breath against my neck. I just need him.
Our eyes collide, and I gasp, because all it takes is just one fucking look… one look still feels exactly like coming home and getting your heart broken at the same time.
But then the room tilts as a cute blonde slides up against him and he wraps his arm around her, kissing her forehead.
What in the actual fuck?
B slaps my arm, but I can’t look away.
“Oh hell fucking no!” she spits, and I slowly look at her.
“Two can play this fucking game.”