Chapter 30
Quill
Decisions
I Never Asked You
Atli ?rvarsson
Hurried footsteps behind me made me walk faster through the park behind the philosophy department.
I wasn't ready for a moral lecture from Davian, still too stunned that I had actually agreed to this.
But it had been the right decision. My only chance for revenge.
There would be no glory in my father's downfall.
I acted emotionally, driven by a thirst for rebellion that I had never been able to show him before Mama's death. It made me human, alive, gave me the illusion of strength and control.
“Quill!”
It was impossible to ignore this man, especially when he caught up with me.
I sped up but he grabbed my wrist and pulled me around to face him.
“What the hell?!”
I gasped for air, studied his face, and wondered why his anger didn't intimidate me as much as other people's did.
Resolutely, I lifted my chin toward him.
“I can't leave yet.”
He too studied my face, searching for answers he would find in my eyes if he probed deep enough, because he was Davian, who read me like a book written just for him.
“Do you realize what you just did?” Despair strained his voice. “Monica is family to me. You can't lie to her. You can't take advantage of her to study here with her money.”
The last thing I was was a good person.
Ashamed, I tore myself away from him and quickened my pace.
He caught up with me again.
“I'll pay her back. Let that be my concern.”
“That's several hundred thousand dollars.”
“I don't plan on staying. Only for the debates.”
Two whole damn semesters. It would kill me, but maybe it was worth it. If Davian was here, I would survive.
“Why are these debates suddenly so important to you?”
I didn't look at him, staring straight ahead with determination.
I would do the only thing I was good at, and that was failing. Joseph would lose everything. Piece by piece.
“Do you have a problem with training me?”
I sounded pathetic. God, the way I was losing my marbles right now because I was so obsessed with revenge, even though I wasn’t someone who got angry or aggressive easily. In that respect, I took after Mama.
“Are you afraid I’ll lose to your colleagues’ candidates?”
Abruptly, I stopped and turned to face him.
“I don't want to lie to you, so let me just say...” Our eyes locked. His were desperate, overwhelmed. “That's exactly what will happen.”
Even though it took every ounce of strength I had, I held his gaze.
“You can still say no. I'll leave the decision up to you.”
Even though I couldn't tell him the whole truth, I had to give him a choice, praying that his gut feeling would tell him that I was nothing but trouble, hoping that he would finally push me away completely and thereby take a burden off my shoulders.
As much as I wanted my father to lose all his power, Davian was more important to me than any revenge, and it wasn't fair to him to push him into this.
Hiding who I really was from him was already a balancing act, but I didn't want to see him choose between me and Joseph, didn't want confirmation that he would choose my father.
“I believe in you.” His voice was calmer now.
“And I'm sure we could win these debates together.” He raised his hands, but immediately lowered them again.
“But you can't risk anyone finding out...” He looked around, lowered his voice even more, and stepped so close that his much too pleasant scent reached my nose.
“...that you're not even supposed to be here!”
“Don't worry,” I snorted. “Forget it. I'll be careful. And you won't lose your job.”
“That's not what this is about, dammit!” he blurted out. “This job isn't important to me. You...”
Secrets and Lies
Atli ?rvarsson
He stopped, stared at me, and immediately pressed his lips together.
The lump in my chest bounced up and down traitorously.
You are important to me.
A sudden crimson bloom spread across Davian's forehead.
No. I couldn't interpret something so serious into his mere gaze. Especially when I didn't know what it really felt like to be important to someone. To hear someone say those words.
“Am I not allowed to worry about a friend?” Disillusionment settled heavily in my stomach. “I just can't help thinking that you could ruin your future by repeatedly jumping into waters that are too deep.”
The knot in my stomach tightened.
“Then do us both a favor and don't think about it. I've survived nineteen years without anyone worrying about me.” The color gradually drained from Davian's face, although the redness remained on his forehead. “I don't need your pity. All I ask of you is that you trust me.”
Finally, I turned to leave again.
Davian caught up with me again, walking silently beside me, and I could hear the gears in his head turning.
“Are you doing this to prove something to yourself? To your family?”
“Maybe a bit of both.”
It wasn’t a lie. At least that was something…
“What do I have to do to make you see that you’re enough?” My thumbnails dug into the skin next to my other nails. “You're an author and you're going to make it big one day. You don't need any of this. So please... don't ruin your life.”
Why wouldn't he let it go? Why did he care so much about me? Why didn't he suppress it? Was it my fault?
Once again, I stopped walking, flooded with impatience and despair.
“That's the difference between us, Davian. You see writing as a privilege, I see it as what it actually is for us. Our oxygen. You stopped breathing the oxygen that was made for your lungs because at some point in your life you believed you had to conform in order to survive.”
Davian's jaw began to grind against his cheek.
“At least I realized that I can't survive without it. No matter how shitty my life might twist and turn, no matter how deep I fall, the one thing I will always have with me is writing. No one can take my words away from me. Not the school system, not the law, not my father.”
Davian seemed thrown off balance.
Had I gone too far? Had I hurt him?
“My decision is final. I’m going to debate. If you don’t want me here, say it now.”
I would leave, would leave town this very night if necessary.
He held me in the palm of his hand, and it was okay that he had control over my next decision.
He understood me. He was like me, except that we had both taken different paths and met by sheer coincidence at a crossroads in the middle of nowhere.
Two writers who breathed through lines and had the same blue blood running through their veins.
If I were to be mindful of anything, it would be his needs.
Come on, Davian. Let me go. I would understand. Until now, I have been nothing more than an unpleasant burden on your path. Someone who repeatedly tempts you into things that complicate your life.
“Stay.” All the tension in me dissolved, and I dared to breathe, but I didn't dare to read anything into the gleam in his glassy eyes. “...if that's what you really want.”
“Will you make me your candidate?”
He hesitated, but finally nodded slowly.
I didn't give him time to say more, to ask more questions.
The tickling in my stomach, my pounding heart, and that damn hope were once again too much for me.
“Have a nice weekend.”
Hastily, I turned around, grateful that he didn't follow me this time.
So close, I was on the verge of tears again. Tears that could wash all my truths into the light of day.
His gaze on my back was impossible to ignore, as if he were trying to cling to me, to pull me back to him with his bare eyes. By our blue thread.
I would not turn around, would run until the thread cut into my skin.
Something told me that the day would come when I would bleed for him. And this time, it would not be cat scratches on my forearms.
Blue.
Like the ocean she was born in.
Like the ink that runs through her veins.
Like the tragedy woven into the intricate
dreadwork of her soul.
– Blue