Chapter four Kaden
Chapter four
Kaden
Soft golden curls that reflect the light like pure sunshine, a small button nose, and pale lips that seem to tug upwards every time Melody looks at me. She’s strange.
Most people are uncomfortable around me. It’s my natural charm, but not this girl. Even with the flicker of fear I saw in her, she still grabbed my hand and pulled me into the dining room.
And I let her.
As we take our seats at the oak table, she slides in across from me, a beaming ray of joy. She doesn’t have a speck of apprehension in her eyes anymore, and she keeps looking at me.
I don’t know what her end goal is, but I’m not the person she should cling to. My dad is the normal one. With the woman at his side and Melody next to them, they look like the picture-perfect families in brochures. I’m just an onlooker—an outcast.
“So, Kaden,” Ms. Love begins easily, her soft features bleeding a warmth and sincerity that I’ll never be able to possess. “What do you like to do?”
Dad lifts the lid of the pizza box, dishing out a few servings and sliding a plate in front of me. The overhead lights are too bright and bother me, making me squint. It’s hard to overwhelm me, but with the lack of sleep, I’m more irritable than I usually am.
“Enjoy a silent dinner,” I mutter under my breath.
“Kaden Theodore,” Dad warns in a hiss.
The use of my middle name makes my mouth twist in displeasure. I hate when he calls me that.
Something bumps my shin under the table, and I glance up through my lashes at the girl sitting across from me.
She gives me an encouraging grin, her soft features turning kind and genuine.
Her eyes, the color of honey, are wide and inviting.
Everything about her screams naive and innocent.
She has no idea who I am or what I’m like.
She’ll know soon enough. They always find out.
“What do you like to do, Melody?” I ask, picking at my pizza. Anything to get the attention off me.
The girl hums, her mellifluous voice filling the dining room. “I like to dance. I’ve been in ballet since I was five.”
Of course, she dances. She’s the perfect little tool for my father to flaunt around in front of his associates. She’ll become his world, finally giving me the freedom from my expectations.
“Sounds interesting,” I muse with sarcasm. It’s a cruel move, but I don’t like how happy she is. Shouldn’t she be upset with leaving her old life behind? She moved in with complete strangers and can still smile until her rosy cheeks hurt.
Her face falls a fraction, and I almost celebrate that I cracked her fragile exterior, until she smooths out her expression and softens again. “Maybe I can show you what I’ve been practicing? I almost have my plie down.”
My teeth grind. “I’ll pass.”
Dad’s stare is cutting through the side of my head. He’s burning a hole through my skull with his anger, but I couldn’t care less. He could move a hundred women in, and it wouldn’t make a difference to me.
Melody doesn’t even look disappointed as she shrugs. “Okay. Could you show me the creek later?”
“No,” I answer automatically.
Ms. Love looks uncomfortable as she shifts in her chair. Good. I want her to think about this dinner long after everyone is asleep and she’s sitting up, wondering where it all went wrong. I’m going to make a lasting impression with them here, so I can wash my hands of it.
“That’s enough, Kaden.” Dad barks, making an unsettling calm wash over the table. “Why are you treating them this way? They’re your family—”
“I don’t know these people,” I snort humorlessly. “They’re strangers.”
“And whose fault is that?” He asks. “For the last year, I’ve made an effort to try to get you to meet them. You’ve refused every chance.”
“Playing house isn’t my thing,” I shrug.
He scrubs a hand across his scruff, his jaw twinging. “This isn’t make-believe, Kaden. They’re here, and they’re staying.”
“That’s what you said about the last woman you dated.” I’m stirring the pot, but this is the most fun I’ve had in a long time.
That thin tether inside of my dad snaps as he rises so fast his chair scrapes harshly across the floor. “Go to your room. Now.”
I push my chair out, not bothering to touch my food. “With pleasure. Have a great night.”
Before I can make my exit, Melody’s eyes snag mine. There’s a deep sadness in them, as if she’s trying to pick me apart, and what she sees is upsetting. It makes me pause for a beat. I can’t tell what she’s thinking, but I don’t like her expression.
I shake myself out of it before leaving them to their peaceful dinner. Free of me.
My altar is an array of bones I’ve collected near the creek.
There are a few rodent skulls and the remains of larger animals that were left behind to be picked apart by nature.
I’ve taken great care of them, using a soapy mixture to soak off excess grease, then hydrogen peroxide for whitening.
They’re arranged by species, from the smallest to the largest, and grouped by categories.
Looking at my work gives me a feeling I can’t replicate outside of this room. It’s serenity, and the only way to quiet my mind. My collection gives me an ounce of normalcy, creating the illusion that I’m not screwed up. I have a hobby. Everyone has a hobby.
I’m soaking my new find, a rabbit skull and tibia bone that I found near an owl’s nest, when there’s a light knock at my door. I gently set my bones down in the plastic tub, scowling at the door.
“What?” I project my voice across my room, waiting for the meek response that will follow.
“I can’t sleep…” Melody trails through the wood.
I rest my head back against my shoulders, releasing a breath. “That’s not my problem.”
There’s a beat of silence, as if she’s gathering her courage before her question whispers through the door. “Can I come in?”
My brow furrows deeper. “No. Go to bed.”
There’s a small sniffle from the other side. It’s barely audible, but I hear it. “I can’t…”
Her voice sounds small and broken. I’ve never been good with tears. I don’t like the overwhelming emotions or the sniveling sounds that follow, but hearing her cry makes my stoic nature soften a fraction. I don’t care for her, but I don’t want her sobbing through my door.
I sigh, standing from my spot on the floor. “Come in.”
The door creaks open slowly, golden hair poking in as her wide eyes bounce around the darkness of my room.
I have a red light on, bathing the scene in ominous light.
I like to work in it while I clean my bones.
She takes in everything with open intrigue, her gaze bouncing from the heavy metal posters all over my walls to the dark duvet covering my bed.
She steps inside, her pink pajamas turning a dark shade under the red glow.
“Don’t touch anything,” I instruct as I pick the tub up and set it on top of the wide altar table.
She nods. “Do you want me to stay here?”
I tilt my chin in the direction of my desk’s chair. “Sit there.”
She complies, easing onto the squeaky leather as her feet dangle. She places her hands on the seat, kicking her legs as she examines my altar. “What are you doing?”
Small talk.
Something I’m not good at.
“What does it look like?” I ask, my tone snippy.
Her head tilts, those curls falling over her shoulder. “Are they real?”
Sarcasm grasps my throat, choking the words from me before I can stop them. “No. I spent years arranging plastic replicas for the aesthetic. Of course they’re real.”
A small chuckle tumbles from her, the sound light and carefree. It makes me pause, my hand half inside the tub as I blink at her.
“You’re funny,” she muses softly.
I shake my head, going back to situating the bones inside the tub. “That wasn’t meant to be funny.”
“Why don’t you like me?”
I’m not expecting her question, but I don’t walk on eggshells to appease others. It isn’t in my nature, so I answer truthfully. “I don’t like anyone.”
“Why?”
I make a rough sound in the back of my throat. “Do you ever stop talking?”
“I like talking to you.”
I whip around to her, my face becoming impassive. I’ve never met someone so determined to get close to me. It’s infuriating. Stupid. “You don’t know me.”
She pops a shoulder gently. “I want to get to know you.”
My jaw grinds. “No, you don’t. No one ever does.”
That somber note is back in her eyes, making her sunny features dip. Her fingers roll the end of her pajama shirt as she stares at me. When she speaks, her tone is gentle and warm. “Then they’re missing out.”
“Get out,” I command. “Go back to your room.”
“Kaden—”
“Leave me alone,” I bite harshly.
She slinks dejectedly off the chair, turning to look at me over her shoulder as she pads towards the door. When I don’t beg for her to come back, she leaves me with an echoed click of the door.
As I stand fuming in the middle of my room, I don’t feel an ounce of that serenity anymore. It’s withered away to something hollow and empty.
And I don’t know why.