CHAPTER FOURTEEN #2
It was quiet, the only sound the echo of my footsteps as I turned a corner, almost colliding with Elysse Martina. Her hands clutched around my forearms as she steadied herself, a breathless gasp pulsing through the hall.
“I’m sorry,” I said, taking a step back to grant her space.
“No, no, it’s okay,” she assured me with a smile.
I nodded and made to step past her when she stopped me, fingers gripped around my wrist. “Want to explore together? I’m kind of scared.”
I glanced down at her hand, lip curling in displeasure. “Scared of what?”
“Ghosts,” she said.
“Ghosts can’t hurt you. They’re dead.”
She laughed as if I had made a joke, head thrown back so that her blonde strands fell down her shoulders.
“Come on, let’s go,” she giggled, dragging me down the hall.
I had only spoken to Elysse twice in my life.
The first was in year eight when we were assigned seats in French. She was quite popular, even back then. A dancer, a swimmer, a gymnast. We never really spoke until one lesson when she asked, in a panic, if she could copy my homework.
We hadn’t spoken again until a few weeks ago, when we passed one another in the hall and she complimented my new haircut. Ava, who had been beside me, snorted and made a comment about how Elysse had dated all the boys in her 'social status', so she was now branching out to the ‘losers’.
“We shouldn’t go too far,” I told her as the air grew thick, a cold dampness following our every move.
“Here is nice,” she said, pulling me into a small, windowless room with a wooden chest tucked in the corner, the only light coming from the flickering lanterns in the corridor.
By the door stood an armoured guard, traditionally decked out in iron, steel and chainmail. There was no person behind the helmet, but the figure was so tall and life-like that you could almost be fooled.
“I thought you said you were scared,” I murmured, taking in the small space. “This is a bit creepy.”
“But I’m safe now,” she beamed, shifting closer, “with you.”
I raised an eyebrow, backing away until the stone wall pressed into my shoulder blades. “I won’t exactly be able to protect you from ghosts.”
She giggled and shook her head. “Do you believe in ghosts, Augustus?”
I shrugged. “I have never really thought about it.”
“What do you think about instead?” she asked.
I think about throwing you off the side of this fortress, watching your skull crack open so you can never touch me again.
“Why are we in here, Elysse?”
“Because,” she said, placing both hands on my chest, “I thought we could have some fun on this boring ass trip.”
I opened my mouth to tell her it wasn’t boring, that we were standing amongst historical artefacts from the Middle Ages, when her lips suddenly connected with mine.
I froze.
I had never shared a kiss with anyone, yet alone a pretty girl like Elysse who anyone would have kissed back. But I didn’t.
I stood there, locked in a tense stance, as Elysse ran her tongue along my bottom lip.
My eyes locked with Alexander; his lips parted and eyes wide as he stood in the hallway, watching Elysse press her body into mine.
The expression that crossed his face—anger, hurt, something in between—unlocked the chains holding me in place, my body returning to life to push her away.
“What? What’s wrong?” Elysse frowned.
“You…you shouldn’t do that,” I stammered.
“Do what?”
“Kiss people with–without asking!”
“Don't you want to kiss me?”
I shook my head.
“What, are you gay or something?”
Blood ceased running through my veins, all warmth evaporating to leave a cold empty shell of a boy, standing in front of a girl seething with rejection.
“No,” I said, forcing my voice to remain calm, “I just don’t want to kiss you.”
“You’re so gay,” she scoffed, sauntering toward the door.
“I’m not gay!"
“Augustus the Gay,” she laughed, throwing her head back. “Roman Emperor of the Queers!”
Untamed rage possessed my body, an overwhelming tremor that sent my hand toward her neck, slamming her head against the concrete wall with a deafening crunch.
She screamed, blood pouring from the gash on her temple as she crumbled to the floor, blonde hair stained red.
I stood over her sobbing body; leather shoe pressed against her pale throat. Beneath the sole, her pulse fluttered.
“Please,” she whispered.
I pressed my foot down harder, watching the blood vessels in her eyes burst one after the other. She choked, gasping for air, hands clawing uselessly at my feet. Pleasure flooded through me, her struggle placating the anger that soared through my veins. I was in control. She was at my mercy.
Colour fled her warm skin as Death crouched down beside her. She stopped moving, stopped gasping—hands dropping to the concrete floor, eyes vacant.
“Hello?” Elysse waved a hand in front of my face, shaking her head. “Oh my god, you’re gay and crazy.”
I watched her leave the room, not one drop of blood falling from her flawless skin. She was breathing. She was alive.
My shoulders sagged in relief.
I was not a monster. I was not the Devil.