Chapter 27
TWENTY-SEVEN
“But it’s no use now. Why, there’s hardly enough of me left to make one respectable person!”
—Alice, Alice in Wonderland
It’s been one week and three days.
I bet that if I tried, I could pinpoint the time down to the hour, but instead, I’ll round it off to one week and three days, which feels more like three lifetimes.
Yesterday, we went to school as if nothing had happened. As if Rook hadn’t wanted me dead, and as if Maddox hadn’t killed him for hurting me. We simply moved on as if this were an ordinary Monday, when the truth is, everything is different.
Everything.
The Tweedles torched the maze. Burnt it right to the ground.
Nothing’s left but scorched hedges and a charred wisteria.
The chessboard was utterly destroyed. My father loved that maze.
It’s also where I made most of my favorite memories.
I should be sad to know it’s gone, but oddly, it feels like the ending of one era and the beginning of something else.
Something new and exciting.
Alone in Folly House for the first time since I left Tiger Lily, I put away the dinner dishes and retreat to my quiet little corner of the living room.
Maddox created a cozy little studio area where I wouldn’t be secluded away in one of the upstairs bedrooms whenever I want to draw.
Honestly, I love sitting at my easel being smack in the center of the marvelous chaos when we’re all home together.
After years of self-imposed isolation, I finally feel like I’m part of a family again.
My father would be happy that I’m happy, and as I stare at the sinister, grinning cat, I say, “I think you might be my last monster.”
Because, also for the first time in years, I don’t feel like I’m drowning in a well of sorrow.
I feel…lighter, brighter. Without the weight of grief holding me in the darkness, I want to keep climbing so I can feel the sun on my skin after living in the shadows.
Perhaps I might even have this piece finished by the time Maddox gets home, and tomorrow, I can start something new.
Am I happy Maddox went with March on a job? Absolutely not. But working for Roman was always inevitable, and being with him means accepting this. To love Maddox is to love all of him—the good and ugly—the same way he loves me. If that makes me a bad person, well, I accept that, too.
I say to the drawing, “Okay, let’s get you finished,” but as soon as I touch the canvas with the charcoal, the sound of the doorbell startles me.
I suppose it’ll take a while for the mental scars Rook left behind to fade, but until then, I’m a skittish mess as I drop the charcoal on the tray of the easel.
However, my fright quickly turns to disgust when I see Scarlett on the security camera.
“Oh, God,” I groan, my hand poised on the doorknob. Wonder if she’ll go away if I ignore her. But she answers that question by following up the ring with a few sharp knocks. With a roll of my eyes, I yank open the door. “What do you want?”
The demon, as always, is dressed to the nines.
Red blouse, black skirt, and black Louboutins.
Makeup impeccable and her bright hair in a perfect updo, she is the epitome of style.
Meanwhile, I look like roadkill in old, gray sweats and a white T-shirt.
My hair, still damp from a shower, is up in a high, messy ponytail.
“I just…” Scarlett’s sentence trails off. Wow. I’ve never seen the Red Queen at a loss for words. I like it. But she squares her shoulders and straightens her spine. I swear to God, I can almost see her fix the invisible crown she thinks is perched atop those red curls. “I’m leaving Wonderland.”
“Bye,” I snap with a shrug.
I go to slam the door, but she stops me by throwing out her arm to catch it before it closes right in her face. “And to apologize.”
I snort out a nasty laugh. “Awesome. Tell your dad I said thanks for the apology.”
No way do I think for a second that he didn’t send her to try to make amends.
“He doesn’t know I’m here.”
Her confession shocks me, but I hide it, saying, “Fine. Whatever. You’re sorry. Apology heard. Now go away.”
But she doesn’t, and instead, says, “Whether you believe me or not, I am sorry. Things weren’t supposed to…
” Again, her sentence trails off, as if she’s searching for the right words, against the backdrop of her pointed stare.
She’s also pointedly staring at the fading damage Rook did to my face. “I never intended for you to be hurt.”
“Doesn’t matter,” I tell her with feigned nonchalance.
It does matter, though, because Rook could have easily killed me before Maddox got there.
“You did what you did, and it’s over. Again, I go to slam the door shut, but now it’s my turn to hesitate as I watch her swing around and walk away, her heels striking the pavement like gunfire. “Wait.”
Scarlett stops but doesn’t turn around.
“Why?” I ask, hating myself for asking her this, but the question has been burning its way through my mind for years.
For a moment, I think she won’t answer, but she turns her head. The half-moon and the golden glow from the three-headed lamppost cast her profile in a mix of light and shadow. Her voice is low, hushed, and dripping with contempt when she says, “Because you have everything I want.”
I throw my hands up in the air, dropping them hard and slapping them against my thighs. “Like what, Scarlett? What do I possibly have that’s made you hate me this much?”
This time, she does face me, and for the first time I see it—not jealousy or rage, but envy. Brutal and soul-crushing envy. “My parents’ admiration. Ivory’s friendship. And…” She hesitates, her usual icy tone breaking on a hitched breath. “Maddox’s love.”
Shaking my head, I say, “I never asked for any of that.”
“You never had to.” Her bitter smile slices me like a razor. “But I did.”
I take a step forward, but when she backs away, I freeze. “That wasn’t my fault.”
Because maybe, if she weren’t such a conniving bitch, she would have had everything she wanted. Everything she hates me for. But no, Scarlett McQueen doesn’t have a nice bone in her angry little body.
“Never said it was,” she whips back at me. “Anyway, I wanted you to know that I’m sorry. I may hate you,” she says with a sneer, “but I never wanted you dead.”
“No, just terrorized.” When she doesn’t respond and simply spins on the heels of her black Louboutins, I call out, “I wish you well, Scarlett, I truly do.”
“I know,” she replies without missing a beat.
She slides into the driver’s seat of her sleek, red Corvette, and as she drives away, I clutch the doorframe, watching her go.
What the fuck? I almost feel bad for her.
Almost. I understand what it’s like to want—need—someone’s love.
To do everything within your power to try to earn that love, only to be met with cold contempt.
That’s literally my relationship with my mother.
But for Scarlett to use me as an outlet for her anger and hurt…
Perhaps one day, I can forgive her, but today’s not it.
Not when I’m still shaken up over what happened, and my body is still healing from what Rook did to me.
But I don’t hate her. I want to hate her, but I don’t.
After stepping back inside Folly House and closing and locking the door, I walk to my little corner of the living room.
Plopping down on the stool, I stare at the sinister cat for a moment, wanting the finished product to be perfect…
…or maybe not.
Art, like life, shouldn’t be flawless. True beauty, I’ve found, is in the wonderful little imperfections, and when I pick up the charcoal and put it to canvas, I contemplate where I was only a few years ago.
Lost. Scared. Isolated inside my own mind.
I’ve come far, and the road to getting here was paved with tears.
So many tears.
“Hurry, Alice, our next adventure is only a minute away!”
My father’s words echo in my mind, and I smile because, after trekking that road and making it to the end, I’m finally ready to see where this wild adventure takes me…