Chapter 11 #2
“Addie!” Lilia’s voice cuts through my thoughts, pulling me back to reality. She stands in front of me, her face etched with concern.
“Lilia,” I say, trying to sound normal. “What’s going on?”
“Addie,” she begins cautiously. “I’ve been hearing… things. Are you okay?”
A knot tightens in my stomach, and I feel the anxiety I tried so hard to bury resurface again. What have people been saying? I force a smile. “Oh, you know how rumours are. Don’t worry about it.”
Has everyone been calling me a murderer now?
But her frown deepens, and I know she doesn’t believe me. “I’m not stupid, Addie,” she says softly, her voice filled with concern. “Tell me what happened. Are you okay? Bea will be here in approximately…” she checks her phone, “thirty seconds.”
“Are they calling me a murderer?” I ask.
Lilia doesn’t say anything, she just nods.
Just as I’m about to respond, Bea suddenly appears, practically sprinting toward us. “What happened, Addie?” Bea manages, clearly trying to catch her breath.
“I’m fine,” I insist, though my voice trembles. “It’s nothing. Just… rumours about my dad.”
Their eyes widen with shock and disbelief, anger flickering across both their features. “That’s ridiculous! How could anyone say something so awful?” Lilia exclaims.
Of course I know. “It’s just people trying to stir up trouble, you know?” I nod, managing a fake smile.
But deep down, I admit, it hurts. Being blamed at home was more than enough to keep me completely occupied. Now the entire school insists on doing it too.
How could someone say something so cruel?
“I’m fine, really,” I reassure them. “I have Maths next, but we’ll talk later, okay?”
Their eyes widen again, but I brush past them, determined to get to class and… to put it simply, away from here.
I can pretend to be okay all I want, but underneath the pretending it’s a mess. A tangle that I’m not sure I can string back together.
I don’t know how much longer I can take this.
***
The whispers don’t stop when I step into the classroom. If anything, they grow sharper. I quicken my pace, heading straight for the back of the room as always. It’s safer there. Or at least, it should be.
But even there, I’m not alone. I feel his eyes on me before I see him.
Will.
His gaze is heavy on me, pressing down until I can’t breathe. And it’s invasive, crawling all over me like it has the right to make me feel this way. My chest tightens, my fingers curl into fists, but I keep my eyes firmly on my desk.
Don’t look at him, Adeline. Don’t you dare.
But I do. Just for a second.
Big mistake.
Our eyes meet, and a chill runs down my spine when he smiles at me. But it’s not kind, it’s deliberate. And terrifying.
The kind of smile that twists something in your gut, that makes you feel like prey.
My breath catches, and I drop my gaze instantly, heart pounding in my chest. And I just want to disappear, to sink into the floor and vanish entirely.
But his stare doesn’t let up. It’s still there, burning into the side of my face, dissecting me piece by piece.
I grip my pen so tightly it feels like it might snap, my knuckles aching with the strain.
It’s just my luck that one of them is in another one of my classes.
I try to focus on the blank page in front of me, forcing myself to steady my breathing. Ignore him. Ignore all of them. But then a shadow falls across my desk, and I glance up to see a girl and a boy standing there. They’re smiling, but there’s nothing friendly about it.
My nails dig into my palms. I swallow hard, forcing down the lump in my throat. I won’t cry. Not here. Not in front of them.
The teacher walks in, and for a moment, the room settles. The whispers fade, and just for a moment, I relax. But then it becomes obvious that the teacher is completely oblivious to the entire thing.
That’s always how it is, isn’t it? Or maybe they just pretend not to know.
“We have a new student here with us today,” the teacher announces, gesturing toward the door. The door swings open and the student walks in.
A tall brunette girl.
My heart skips a beat.
Cold expression, golden eyes, and a black beret perched perfectly atop her head, along with headphones that she wears around her neck.
The girl from the café.
The realisation sends a jolt of surprise through me. Realisation and confusion, because I had been sure she was younger than me.
“This is Kym Ca —” the teacher gets cut off.
“It’s Kym Lawrence.” Kym interrupts, ice in her tone.
The room falls into an uneasy silence as Kym’s golden eyes sweep across the faces in the room, completely unbothered. But when her gaze lands on Will, something changes. Her composure falters for just a second, and a flash of nervousness ripples across her features.
She goes white.
And Will stiffens.
I can’t help but notice the way Will’s hand clenches the edge of his desk, his knuckles turning white under the strain. It’s clear there’s something between them, or there was.
An old flame, maybe?
Yet there’s an insistent part of me that knows it’s something else.
Kym’s expression hardens again as she walks to the back of the room. Her eyes find mine for a moment, and I see nothing but hatred. It’s bitter and cutting, and something I feel in my chest like a physical blow.
I want to ask why, but I already know I won’t.
Some answers are better left alone.
Adeline
Three years ago
I shift uncomfortably on the couch; gripping my pencil so hard it might break.
The blank page mocks me, and the frustration bubbling under my skin is enough to make me want to scream.
It’s been weeks since I’ve drawn anything worth keeping, and I’ve been beginning to wonder if maybe I’ve lost my mind.
My lack of focus is interrupted by soft laughter.
The sound is too familiar, and my heart sinks before they even enter the room.
Naomi and Mason appear. He whispers something in her ear, and she playfully hits his arm before linking hers with his.
The sight ignites something hot and ugly inside me. Anger. Resentment.
How can they act so normal? How can they pretend everything’s fine when it’s not? When it’s never been?
Everyone else is so blind, so stupid, and I don’t understand how they don’t see it.
It’s always shocked me, how blinded everyone is by the truth that screams so loudly.
There’s a loneliness in knowing the truth too, a burden in bearing witness to the darkness that lurks beneath his skin.
A darkness nobody but me seems to acknowledge.
For as long as I can remember, Mason’s been the golden boy. Loved and utterly idolized by Naomi and Sam. And perhaps, at one time, by me too. Although eventually I began to notice the way he looks at me: like I’m a problem. Like I disgust him.
He doesn’t look at Naomi and Sam that way.
Funny how quickly perspective can shift.
Now when I look at him, all I feel is shame—for not noticing the obvious sooner.
For looking but not truly seeing. Because behind the exterior that everyone loves, and the pure heart everyone is convinced he has, I see the face of the boy that ripped mine to shreds a long time ago. I see the face behind the mask.
And the face, well, it’s the scariest thing I have ever seen.
Mason’s gaze briefly meets mine, and he grins—a smile I know he doesn’t truly mean. It’s a surprising act, considering he usually avoids me like the plague. Unless he’s drunk, or high, of course.
These moments are the worst, the times when my brother becomes a complete stranger.
There were always times when all he needed to do was be my brother. But it always seemed like he was for everyone apart from me. Every disapproving look, every cruel comment, it made me wonder what I did wrong. Why was it only me he felt this way toward?
Driven by a new surge of anger, I clench my pencil harder and begin to draw. In these moments, I’m not in control of what I’m creating; the pencil moves with a force of its own. The strokes are quick, messy. The lines are harsh and in no way organized or thought through.
When I stop, I stare at what I’ve created, my chest tightening. A monstrous figure stares back at me, its form twisted and shadowed, its limbs bound in chains. And yet, unmistakably, it wears Mason’s face. I miss you.