CHAPTER 24
Aimee
The sweet scent of summer—berries, lavender, and fresh-cut grass—dances in the warm afternoon breeze. The fields outside of Vroni sparkle under the golden glow of the setting sun. A gentle hand tugs me forwards, and I follow its shape up to a grinning, green-eyed boy.
“Come, sweetheart. I have a little surprise for you. For your sweet fifteen.” Jonathan’s wide smile is blinding like the sun, and my heart skips a beat as he pulls me along the winding path.
I can’t believe I have a boyfriend.
I believed this day would never come, not as long as I lived in the crippling shadows of my twin.
Jonathan’s the son of a wealthy noble Fae family, and his grace and chivalry are only outmatched by his boyish beauty.
Fair skin with just a dust of freckles on his cheekbones and straight nose, wild and unruly golden curls he wears like a precious crown, forest-green eyes that watch me from under long lashes, soft lips that haven’t touched mine yet—I still can’t believe such a handsome boy chose me.
“Where are we going?” I ask, giggling as I walk alongside him with a spring in my step.
“Somewhere special, baby doll. You’ll see,” he says, lifting my fingers to his mouth and grazing his gentle lips over them in a chaste kiss.
I smile dreamily, lost in the reverie of this beautiful boy who took a chance on the shy, introverted girl with no magic.
Never would I have dreamed that someone like Jonathan, so fancy, so handsome and magnetic, would ever look at me.
I’m quiet and average, nothing like the girls my age.
Nothing like my sister, attractive and gaining the attention and favor of anyone she sets her sights on.
Whereas she’s wearing the finest silks in pearly pastels and delicate silks adorned with lace, I only wear the gray, dull hand-me-downs the servants give me.
She bathes in rose baths, scrubs her skin with honeyed sugar and wears the finest jewelry that father’s money can buy.
I’m not allowed the same pampering or ornaments.
But not today, no! I caress the folds of the cerulean taffeta dress that I found in a pile of Aurora’s old clothes, left for the maids to choose from.
It’s simple and a little outdated, but still far lovelier than anything else I’m allowed to wear.
My usual dresses are gray and drab, like the clouded November sky over Vroni.
She would absolutely punish me for taking her old dress though, even if she discarded it, for being boring and out of fashion.
I frown at the passing thought. Good thing, then, that she’s out of town with her circle of high-society sycophants, celebrating her fifteenth birthday in a lavish manner.
Our birthday.
Lately she’s started to sneak out a lot with her friends, disappearing for days on end to Gods know where, when our father is away in Ibrok. She’s allowed to do anything her petty heart desires, yet I’m discarded like trash. By father, by the servants, and especially by her.
I will not allow her to plague my mind today, not when I’m walking hand in hand with Jonathan, basking in the saccharine feel of his genuine affection.
All my other days are dreary and forlorn, shrouded in Aurora’s constant belittling and viciousness towards me.
But today I will allow myself to feel a sliver of hope, to revel in the giddy—butterflies in the stomach—sensation of young love.
At first, I was taken aback that such a wonderful boy, three years older than me, would give me the time of day, but for the past two weeks he has been nothing short of charming and kind. My knight in shining armor, ready to swoop in and rescue me from my heart-rending life.
As we walk forward, leaving the outskirts of Vroni behind, approaching the edge of Amnesnoll forest, a shabby shed appears in my field of vision.
It looks like an old, abandoned hunting cabin, its roof covered in thorny vines, the painting on the outer olive-green walls chipping away into oblivion.
The windows are broken, glass shards still sticking to the frames like the jagged tusks of a wild beast.
My skin prickles in apprehension as Jonathan guides our steps toward that dilapidated shed.
“Are we going there?” I frown, trying to hide the slight tremble in my voice.
“Don’t tell me you’re scared, baby doll.
” A throaty laugh escapes his lips as he squeezes my hand in a reassuring manner.
“I know how you dislike big crowds and being under the spotlight, so I thought we could have a romantic dinner here. It’s quiet, and nobody will bother us.
” His smile is soothing, and I shake the nagging feeling away.
It doesn’t matter where we go, as long as we’re together.
He’s right. I hate the crowds, constantly feeling like I’m being watched and judged by all the snobby teens of Vroni.
Just like my sister, most kids our age make fun of me on the daily, wrinkling their elitist noses at my appearance, and especially, at my lack of magic.
Maybe he has planned something special inside, decorating the cabin with fairy lights and flowers.
I imagine having my first kiss under a twinkling glow, and innocent giddiness flows through my veins in anticipation.
I wonder how his lips will feel against my own.
Will it be soft and sweet, or a passionate affair like in that one romance book I read, forgotten in the kitchens by a maid?
Jonathan pushes the crooked door aside and ushers me inside.
I squint in the dim light of the space as I step over broken glass and overgrown weeds that have sneaked their way in through the cracks in the wooden floor.
The place doesn’t look any better inside than it did outside.
It appears to be deserted, with branches creeping in through holes in the walls, and moss covering the far wall in dark splotches.
It’s as if Mother Nature reclaimed its ownership of the once serviceable cabin.
Splintered remains of old wooden furniture litter the ground, with only one still-sturdy table sitting upright in the middle of the room.
“What the..” My words die on my tongue as Jonathan spins me in place and crashes his lips on mine clumsily.
I gasp, and he pushes his tongue inside my mouth a little too forcefully, pushing me until my back hits the table.
My first kiss feels awkward and rushed, and I can’t help feeling disappointed.
His hands pull at the upper edge of my dress, pushing down the laced hem, trying to feel my breasts.
I try to push him away as alarm bells start ringing in my head. He grabs my hands and spins me around, slamming me down on the table, and I whimper as my face makes impact with the wooden surface. The room starts to spin with me as the iron taste of blood fills my mouth.
“Jonathan!” I shout as I try to push myself upwards, but he pins me down with a strong hand against my back as he fumbles with the folds of my dress with the other, pushing them upwards, baring my backside.
He rips my underwear off, and I tremble when I hear the rustle of his pants falling down, the noise so loud in my ears, like a hammer threatening to crack my skull.
“Don’t be coy, baby doll.” He chuckles darkly, his voice taking a chilly edge I’ve never heard before.
“You’ve been giving me googly eyes all day long.
You want my dick inside you, so here it is.
” Abruptly, I feel something hard and bulbous pressing on my naked ass, and I thrash on the table, trying to free myself.
My legs quiver and buckle as he grinds his naked groin against me, his stiffness polluting everywhere it touches.
“No, no, Jonathan! What are you doing!?”
Two other figures emerge from Gods know where, and grab both my hands, spreading my arms wide on the table. They don’t even need to use their Fae magic to subdue me. That’s how utterly powerless I am. Just like my sister always said I was.
I start crying, or maybe I was already crying for a while, tears blurring my vision, as I keep whispering pleas. Time seems to warp disturbingly, stretching into infinity, only to speed up dizzyingly in the next moment.
“The little whore likes to put on a fight!” one figure says.
I can’t see his face, but I know that voice.
Corbyn, Jonathan’s best friend. The other boy squeezes my jaw, forcing me to look into his soulless brown eyes.
Rami, the last piece of their stupid trio.
An evil grin distorts his features before he spits on my face, his saliva mixing with my salty tears.
“Happy birthday, Aimee! We sure hope you’re going to like your birthday gifts!
” Their laugh is shrill and nauseating, and horrible pain erupts in my lower area.
The brutality of it is worse than anything I’ve experienced before, at the hands of my sister.
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to breathe through the burning and humiliation, asking them to stop, to let me go, to end this cruelty.
“Fuck!” Jonathan grunts. “The bitch sure is tight.”
So many hands on me, all at once, violating my body, tainting me in vileness, breaking my soul in unmendable pieces. They pull my hair, squeeze my throat and slam my face on the tabletop several times.
I’ve stopped fighting, hanging on the table like a limp doll, as my body gets pushed and pulled, stretched and scratched, defiled in a way that should not exist.
What did I do wrong? What did I do to deserve this? Was it the dress? Why is this happening to me? Why? Why? Why?
The word slips from my numb lips many times, like the mournful whispers of a broken wind-up clock.
“Why? You know why, filth!” My twin’s spiteful cackle breaks through my mind’s muffled haze as she emerges from the shadows in the corner. Her eyes are filled with pure malice, her lips contorted in a heartless snarl.
For the millionth time, I wonder what I have ever done to her to warrant such unadulterated hatred.
“You never learn your lesson, filth, do you? How many times do I have to drill into that empty head of yours… You’re nothing and deserve nothing! You’re the bacteria swimming in the filth on the back of my shoe. A worthless whore, unworthy of love, unworthy of HIM!”
Jonathan finishes with a grunt, lifting off me and passing me to the others, so they can take their turns.
My body slumps in defeat, my mind floating somewhere above the clouds.
I barely register the thumping motion of my body against the harsh wood digging into my belly, or the grabby hands that sully my skin.
My blank stare focuses on my sister’s sneering face as the boy I thought would be my Prince Charming tucks himself in and grabs her waist adoringly. Her sneer widens, leering straight into my ruined soul, as she grabs his jaw and turns to him, their lips clashing in a vicious kiss.
“Good boy,” she murmurs in a seductive voice, before dropping to her knees in front of him, taking his calamitous member back out, and swallowing it whole in one movement of her head. His hands are tangled in her silky locks, his head thrown back and eyes closed in rapture, as he moans her name.
“Aurora, my queen!” he breathes in complete surrender.
I force my eyes closed and shut down for good, pretending I am not in the middle of the worst deception of my life.
There are no princes here, just monsters and wreckage.