2. Bel
Time feels different when you’re grieving. Like every minute and day that passes is excruciatingly slow. The wound left in my chest from the absence of my mother’s presence in my life feels as if it will never heal. Every thought and reminder of her makes my eyes burn, tears forever falling from my eyes. Even when I try to blink them away, my vision is never clear. Every breath I take makes the pain worse and reminds me this isn’t a nightmare I can wake up from.
It”s been a month since I lost her, but it feels like it’s only been seconds. That’s how fresh the pain is. I peer around the space that is now called my room. Yes, it’s my room, but it’s not really mine. Nothing about this room says Bel. It’s perfect, from the painted walls with crown moldings to the silk bed sheets and plush carpeted floor. It’s everything I’m not, and it makes me miss my mother and our tiny little house. We didn’t have a lot of money, but we had each other. I blink back tears and press my hands into my eye sockets to stop the steady stream of tears from falling.
Think about something else… anything else.
There’s a never-ending pile of new clothes, all still with the tags on them, and a stack of paperbacks that sit near the bed on the floor. I look at them with rage. I’m not alone in my grief, but I feel like it. Sebastian thinks he can buy my happiness, and I know this because of his constant need to shower me with gifts—new books, new clothes, new everything.
Those things are nice, but they don’t fill the void. Maybe those things work for him, or perhaps that’s how he’s always coped, but that’s not how I cope. I can’t just buy something new and forget about my problems. Seb and I are not the same. Money can solve a lot of issues in a person’s life, but it cannot fill the void and loss of someone you love. You can’t replace people with objects.
Here and there, I have the desire to leave this room and venture to other parts of the house, but those times are few and far between. I try my best to keep to myself. I don’t belong here. I don’t need another reminder of exactly how much I don’t belong.
Everything in my world is so much darker without her… without him.
It’s like all the color has been drained from my life. I try not to think about Drew, but if it’s not him, then it’s my mother, and I’d rather think of the thing that hurts less. I press back against the pillows and stare up at the delicately patterned ceiling, wondering what the hell I”m supposed to do with my life now.
I think back to the conversations with Sebastian in the past two weeks when he expressed his desire for me to return to class. I wish I could, but I haven”t gathered enough courage. Not when there is a risk of seeing Jackie, or Drew, or anyone who knows what happened that night. I don’t need their pity.
Like yesterday and the day before that, I roll over on the bed when I get tired of staring at the ceiling and stare at the doorway.
The room is painted a beige color. The bedding, curtains, and trimming—rich people call it trimming, right?—and furniture are all as it was when I moved in: mauves and grays, pretty and understated. I picture it as a hotel room rather than a bedroom.
My bedroom.
My mother would laugh at the frivolity of it all. The ridiculousness of having ten pillows for my bed when I only need a max of two. The insanity that someone comes in to clean my suite almost every day unless I keep them from entering. The preposterousness that someone will deliver food at every meal time without me even having to say a word. For example, someone knocks on the door right now—five o’clock on the dot.
The staff are always on time, and I’m grateful for the food they bring me, but it doesn’t change things. The only thing I want off that food tray is the bottle of wine they usually bring with dinner.
I roll off the edge of the bed, my legs protesting after lying in the same position for hours, and open the door. One of the kitchen staff sweeps in. I think it’s Heidi, but I”m trying not to get attached to any of them. I’m not staying.
This entire experience has taught me a valuable lesson—never get comfortable with things because you never know when someone will get tired of playing with you and toss you to the wolves. It’s only a matter of time till Sebastian does it. He says he won”t, but in this new world, without her, I don”t trust anyone or anything.
The woman, who can”t be much older than me, wears black slacks and a button-down shirt. I barely blink at her as she leaves the tray on the end of the bed where I prefer it and scampers back out the door without a word.
Something hot scratches inside my chest—guilt maybe for not being nicer, kinder, or not at least saying thank you. My momma raised me better than that, but Drew and the loss of my mother killed off any remaining shred of kindness that I had left. Most days I’m numb to my surroundings, to my thoughts. Sometimes I allow myself to feel things, but it’s never good when I do.
“Thank you,” I whisper to the empty room.
I swipe the wine bottle off the tray, retreat to my spot nestled in the pillows, and bring the bottle to my lips.
I tip it back and take a long swallow of the bubbly wine.
Sometimes it helps, but most of the time, it doesn”t. But what else can I do? There’s nothing worth holding on to anymore. Reality is far worse than my dreams. My phone pings, and I snatch it off the covers and stare down at the screen with a frown.
It’s Drew. Again.
I know I should block him. He deserves it. But honestly, I haven”t had the heart to do it. I’ve barely responded to his texts, and the few times I have, it’s been with a snarky response that’s nothing more than to tell him to fuck off and leave me alone. There was also that time I”d told him I”d send Sebastian after him. He responded almost instantly with an eye roll emoji. I won’t lie, that made me smile. It didn’t take long for the smile to fade away when I remembered the pain he put me through.
He was very clear he wanted nothing to do with me that night. I reach back and prod at the still sensitive skin on my head. The stitches haven”t even come out yet, and he thinks he can text me, and I”ll come running to him?
Fuck him.White-hot anger replaces the empty numbness inside me, and I open my phone to reply. To tell him to fuck off in every way that I”m able. My fingers move over the keys as I type out a long response, telling him how I really feel. My heart thunders, beating against my rib cage like it’s trying to break free of my body.
I hover over the send button, but then a knock sounds against the door. Before I can open my mouth to respond, Sebastian enters.
Excuse you, sir.
I slap my phone flat on the bed so he won”t see the screen and glare at him. ”Typically, people wait for permission to enter a room if they knock before entering.”
He doesn”t respond but sits on the end of the bed near my food, his gaze on the tray. ”I”m going to tell the staff to stop sending wine up with your dinner if all you do is drink it and leave the food behind.”
I sink back into the pillows and cup the bottle of wine close again. ”What do you want from me? I’m not hungry.”
He grabs a piece of the chicken on the plate and pops it into his mouth, dragging his attention back to me. ”I doubt I have to tell you this, but you’re a fucking mess. You”ve lost ten pounds this month, ten pounds I don”t think you had to lose to begin with. I’m not sure when you last showered, and your hair could use a brushing.”
I bring the wine bottle to my lips and tip it back. Taking a long swallow, I keep my gaze on his. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. ”My weight, or lack thereof, is none of your business. Nor is my personal hygiene, or lack thereof. I think you could use some manners if we’re pointing out one another’s flaws.”
His eyes sweep over me again as he picks at the food on my tray. Does he not have any food of his own? It’s absurd to be annoyed with him for eating food that I didn’t plan to eat anyway, but it’s still annoying how he sits here all casually, eating and acting like everything is good. He tilts his head at my phone, his eyes blazing. ”Are you talking to him again?”
This entire situation is awkward. His desire to ask questions, to get to know me, to build a relationship. I don’t know why he’s even trying. We both know he doesn”t really give a shit about me. He’s not doing this because he cares. Men like him don’t do anything for free, and they certainly don’t do anything because they care. He can deny it all he wants, but in my eyes, he will always have some hidden agenda.
I wave my phone, the screen thankfully dark. ”Also none of your business.”
His gaze sharpens, and I resist the urge to flinch. Show them your fear and they’ve already won. ”Hate to burst your bubble, sis, but anything concerning you is my business. I’m not about to try to control you or tell you what to do. Just remember he doesn”t give a shit about you. All he cared about was conquering you. Now that you’re unattainable, he’s angry and throwing a fit like a toddler.”
”First of all, don’t call me sis ever again. Second of all, I don”t want to talk about him. I’m aware that I meant nothing to him. I have a scar that I can see every time I look in the mirror as a damn reminder, so don’t lecture me with that bullshit.”
He smirks and pops a piece of broccoli into his mouth. ”Good. I’m glad you haven’t forgotten. But be warned, if he shows up here, I”ll kill him. So if you don”t want to see his blood on the marble, don”t invite him over.”
I move to take another swig of the wine, and he swipes the bottle from my hands and brings it to his lips, taking a long chunk. My thoughts hover on his warning. Would he really kill his best friend to protect me?
”Hey!” I snap. ”That”s my dinner, thank you.”
He eyes me over the length of the bottle, chugging deeper and deeper. When he finally comes up for air, it”s half gone.
”Asshole,” I mutter, snatching the bottle back. I know I wouldn”t have gotten it back if he didn”t want me to have it back. I take a huge gulp of the wine, and as I’m swallowing, some goes down the wrong tube. I start to cough, wine sputtering out of my mouth and down my chin.
”Wow. You”re grace personified.”
”Fuck off,” I mumble while wiping at my mouth, a smile tugging at my lips. His eyes appear to lighten, with a little glimmer of hope.
We”ve been doing this bickering thing every other day or so since the week after I moved here. I can’t pinpoint the exact reason, but it feels...right...normal. Of course it’s still awkward as hell while we get to know one another, but a little more of that strange feeling slips away each day. I’m starting to see him, really see him, which terrifies me because that means he’s seeing me. I guess this is what siblings are supposed to do? And maybe for a few seconds when he”s here giving me shit, I don”t feel quite as alone as I have felt since I lost everything.
This thought hardens me again, and I pull my knees to my chest and cradle the wine between my thighs. ”Did you need something, or did you just come by to make sure I”m still alive?”
He shrugs and grabs a crescent roll off my tray. Then he stands and throws himself into the armchair across from my bed. ”Doing the brotherly thing. You know, making sure you haven”t hung yourself from the shower rod, annoying you, the usual brother shit.”
I almost smile. ”There aren”t any shower rods in this house. Everything is stainless steel, ceramic, and marble. There would never be something so basic as a shower curtain in this house.”
He snorts. ”Fair.” He holds his hand out for the bottle, and slowly, begrudgingly, I slip the bottle into his grasp.
”Don”t drink it all.”
”If I do, I”ll have someone bring you another bottle.”
We sit in silence that doesn”t quite feel as fraught until he stands, crosses the room, and hits a switch to light the fireplace.
It comes to life in a blaze of fire, and then he sits down again. ”Don”t tell me you don”t enjoy this.”
I barely withhold an eye roll. ”You mean, how can someone who never had anything not appreciate that they have everything now?”
”That”s not what I said.”
I make a noise and snag the bottle back to take another drink. ”He”s been texting me.”
The silence in the room suddenly feels heavier, the silence descending for a split second over the backdrop of the crackling fire.
His tone is a little more serious with his next question. ”Have you been answering him?”
I stare at my feet and the chipped polish I haven”t bothered to refresh in the past month. ”No, not really. I haven”t been encouraging him if that’s what you mean. When I do respond, which is rare, I tell him to leave me alone.”
Anger flashes in his eyes. ”Why haven”t you blocked him?” he mutters. ”I should have blocked him myself. In fact, give me your phone. I”ll get you a new one with a different number, and I’ll personally ensure he doesn’t get it.”
Panic creeps to the surface, and I snatch my phone off the bed and hug it next to the bottle of wine. ”You can”t. I don’t want a new phone. I want to keep this one.”
The thought of losing my pictures and the voicemails from mom guts me. They’re all I have left, the only physical memories of her. The thought of losing them makes me feel like I’ve lost her all over again.
My fear and anxiety must be etched into my features because all he does is nod. ”Relax, Bel. I won’t take your phone. I was just giving you shit. I want to make sure you’re okay.”
I sag into the pillows again, relief surging through me. ”Right, giving me shit. You”ve become a pro at that.”
He sighs and stares off at the fire. ”I know it’s going to be hard, but I don’t think you should see Drew again. He”s not good for you, and take it from someone who has been his friend for years. A leopard doesn’t change its spots. If he hurt you once, he’ll do it again.”
”You think I don”t know that already? I’m not nearly as dumb as everyone thinks I am.”
“I don’t think you’re dumb at all. I think you’re hungry to be loved and accepted, which can, unfortunately, make you an easy target, especially to the wrong kind of people. Drew is not the type of guy you bring home to Mom and Dad.”
Well, funnily enough, I have neither of those… I almost say, but bite my tongue.
Drew isn’t perfect, and I wouldn’t even say he’s good, but Sebastian has no idea what we shared. He has no idea how alive I felt with Drew. I’m not agreeing with anything that happened, nor do I think it’s okay, but whatever was developing between us was special, and I can’t just switch that off or forget it. At least if you aren’t a complete psychopath.
We sit in silence, and for one fleeting moment, I wish I still had Jackie… Scratch that. I wish I had someone to talk to who would understand. My heart aches at the loss of my friendship with her, of the loss of my mother and Drew. The pain rips through me, the wound pulsing with life.
I roll my eyes up toward the ceiling so I don”t cry and chug back some more wine.
”What do you want, Bel?”
His adoption of my nickname should grate on every nerve ending in my body, but it feels good to have someone call me that. I swallow hard and then look back at him. His green eyes bore into mine.
”I want the pain to go away, for everything to stop hurting so much. For the constant reminder of all I lost to disappear.”
”It won”t be this way forever. The pain will fade eventually, and each day will hurt a little less than the day before.”
”How do you know?” I snap.
The moment I’ve spoken the words, I regret them. If anyone doesn”t deserve my venom, it”s him. Sebastian has been kind, patient, and understanding. He’s been far more supportive than I ever expected him to be, and he’s lost someone as well. His situation is almost worse than my own. At least I have memories of time spent with our mother. He has nothing.
He stands and slips his hands into his pockets. I swear I see a flicker of disappointment in his eyes. ”I”ll send up more wine if you eat all your dinner.”
My mouth opens, and I want to tell him I’m sorry, that I didn’t mean to snap at him, but I’m not sure it would matter. He disappears out the door, closing it softly behind him, leaving me with my thoughts.
I know I’m being a bitch, and that I continue to be one even without thinking about it. Unfortunately, it’s a trauma mechanism I’ve developed to protect myself. It’s better if I push him away and keep him at arm”s length. At least then, when something happens, when he inevitably leaves, it’ll hurt a little less than if I let him in all the way. Because the thought of losing literally the only family I have left hurts, even if I barely know anything about him.
My phone pings again, but I refuse to look at it, so I take a long swig of the wine. ”Fuck off, Drew,” I whisper.
I let out a shuddering breath and lean back into the pillows. My food is getting cold, and the wine is nearly gone. I should eat something, and sadly not because Sebastian told me to, but because I want more wine.
With a sigh, I lean over and crawl to the end of the bed on my knees to sit and eat. Chicken and vegetables—a full meal of nutrients and vitamins. Nothing like my scamper for nutrients vs. cost when I had to shop for myself. This is a long way away from peanut butter sandwiches. I pop a couple of pieces of food into my mouth. I’m overwhelmed with the robust spice from the chicken and veggies.
It”s delicious too, of course. Sebastian, I guess our family, has to have the best.
I take another bite and consider what Sebastian hasn”t told me about our family. Like how they made their millions and what this will all mean for me when the time comes. What does my future look like as a member of this family? From what I”ve seen, Sebastian has taken it all onto his shoulders, even as he seems to stumble under the weight of it. He doesn’t complain, doesn’t even show a sliver of weakness.
He’s far stronger than I am. Maybe that has to do with how he was raised? There are so many things I have yet to learn about him and who our family is. It saddens me to think how much time has passed, how many memories we missed out on making. The pinging of my phone drags me from my thoughts, and I check it before I can think better of it. I see Drew’s latest unanswered message.
Psycho: You have one week, Flower. One week to get back to me, or I’m hunting you down, ready or not.
I drop the phone down onto the bed and stare straight ahead. Was Sebastian lying when he said he would kill Drew? I’m not sure I want to take that chance. While I’m pissed at Drew and kinda sorta want to stab him, the last thing I want is for him to die. Still, he needs to understand that he’s no longer in control. I am, and I’m done answering to him.