Ruthless (Black Mountain Academy) - Mila Crawford Page 0,24

over, the clock read just after two in the morning, so I climbed out groggily only to find mom was already there.. She picked up the small package, the only thing on the porch, wrapped in recycled brown paper with a red, silk bow wrapped around it.

“It’s for you.” Mom handed me the gift and right there in pretty handwriting my full name was written in cursive.

Madison

I pulled on the pretty bow and it unraveled in gentle waves, the soft fabric hitting the floor at my bare feet. I gently unpacked the present and was surprised to find an iPhone. Attached to it was a little note that said listen to me.

“Who’s it from?” Mom peered over my shoulder.

“No idea.” I walked back into my room, closing the door, not wanting to discuss any of it with my mother, because deep down, I knew who it was from.

Kyler. It was the only thing that made sense; he was the only person, other than Tammy, that I’d gotten to know here.

Laying back on my pillows, I stared at the gift, tracing my finger along the brightly lit screen. My fingers searching for the playlist as if they had a mind of their own. I wasn’t even a little surprised to find one custom playlist titled: Songs for Maddy

There were three songs. I hit play.

The first was Isolation by Joy Division. A song about brimming with loneliness, disillusionment and shame. I listened to the lyrics, playing them repeatedly before moving on to the next one. The next song was Wake Me Up by Avicii. This song I already knew and loved, but listening to it now in this context, the upbeat tempo wasn’t my focus but the message of a life unlived and regret the only reality. The last song was Come as You Are by Nirvana, a song I was very familiar with. One thing that was interesting about all of them, the one commonality other than how each was incredibly sad in their own right, they also all happened to be written by men that’d ended up killing themselves.

I didn’t know what to think, only quiet panic took hold of my heart and twisted violently, making it hard for me to breathe. All these months I’d just thought of Kyler as a callous jerk, but what if something else was really happening? I’d seen the way he was worried about Tammy...the way he could be so gentle and kind. It was almost as if something overtook him physically when bouts of kindness shone through the darkness that made him push people away. The only way he seemed to self-regulate was through cruelty. One thing I didn’t know...why now? Why did Kyler feel like now--months after our kiss, months after avoiding each other fully and completely--that he needed to send me this?

I threw the iPhone on the bed, turned away and tried to will myself back to sleep. Every time I closed my eyes I saw Kyler’s piercing blue gaze staring intensely back at me. Leaving me restless, feverishly hot and cold all at the same time.

16

“Be with me always - take any form - drive me mad! Only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! Oh, God! It is unutterable! I can not live without my life! I can not live without my soul!” ― Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights

Kyler

It’d been months since I’d last spoken to the little mouse.

It should have been a relief, but I was a mess, more of a mess than I already was. Madison had managed to weasel her way into my blood, settling there like a virus waiting to infect my entire being, until all I could do was obsess about her.

She attacked so hard and fast that she’d left me reeling. I wanted to be near her. I skulked around campus and the manor like a creeper, desperate to get one glimpse of her. She usually hung around in the library, her cute little nose buried in the pages of a book, chewing on the cap of a pen, forehead scrunched in concentration.

I loved how she held her pen while she took notes, every few minutes patting the paper, as if proud of her small accomplishments. She was a ray of sunshine in my otherwise dreary life. I didn’t know what to do or say. There were too many times I was a complete jerk to her, and if she never spoke to me again, no one--not even me--would