Silver will be mine.
This time, I’ll swallow her so much into my chaos, she’ll never find a way out.
Aiden says something and she laughs. Fuck them.
I stand up and tell Levi, “I’ll be right back.”
He nods and I go through the back entrance and stand on the porch that overlooks the tall trees in the forest visible from here.
I retrieve a cigarette, light it, and take a drag. It tastes like shit, but the nicotine allows my brain to loosen up a little and stop being stuck in its messy chaos.
It’s the only addiction I allow myself, although I just smoke once or twice a week or when the chaos gets too tangled.
Ronan says I’m addicted to books and I should seek therapy, but fuck him. He’s only literate because his father is an earl. No kidding, he’s the type who’d say, ‘How do you read this shit? There are no pictures in it.’
Reading is one of my defence mechanisms to not get caught up in the world. The world makes me think of worldly things, like that night, and I hate that night.
So I redirect my thoughts to the one thing I didn’t hate about that night. The girl with a butterfly pin and a doll.
Silver wrote in her journal about it.
Cole saw me cry today. He didn’t hug me as Xander does to Kimberly whenever she cries. He wanted to leave, the tosser.
But he told me divorces happen and that Papa and Mummy will probably be happier apart.
I hate that.
Cole also told me his secret. He wants to be my first. I told him, I’ll only do that if I’m his first too. Otherwise it’s not fair.
Papa says to always negotiate so it’s fair.
And now, Papa and Mummy won’t be together anymore. I can’t stop crying.
Why did they get married if they don’t want to be together?
Why did they give birth to me?
And yes, I recall every entry I read. I usually memorise anything by reading it once. I took special care of her journal. Now all her words, her vents, and her confusions and fake personality are integrated into my head.
When I grow old and my memory starts demanding to delete files to be able to remember others, I’d choose her stupid journal over books by philosophers and psychologists any day.
Chaos.
She’s fucking chaos.
I step out into the night and through the trees. Twigs crush under my boots and I ignore them as I continue on my way.
The moon is bright in the sky tonight despite the freezing weather. I left my jacket inside, so I’m only in my uniform’s trousers and shirt.
I arrive at the small lake beyond the trees and stand at the edge of the deck, staring at the moon’s reflection in the calm water. I don’t know how long I remain there. Something about it is bugging the fuck out of me.
It’s not red.
How come it’s not red?
It should be red.
“Cole?” A soft voice calls from behind me. “What are you doing?”
I turn around and face her, but I don’t move from the edge. Under the moon’s light, she appears like a blue shadow. Her hair falls to her back and the butterfly necklace glints. She’s never removed it in public. Not even once.
But it’s not because she cares, no. It’s because it means she admits defeat if she doesn’t wear it.
And that’s exactly why I said those words — so she’d keep me with her at all times.
“Are you stalking me?” I ask.
“You wish.”
“Then why did you follow me all the way over here?”
“Papa called and said he made reservations for dinner. Derek will pick us up.”
“Message received. Go back to Aiden.”
She scowls, but she doesn’t make a move to leave. “Are you still smoking that death stick?”
I blow the smoke in her face, making it scrunch. “Obviously.”
“You’re a bastard.”
“If you keep complimenting me this often, I’ll think you have a fixation on me.”
“In your dreams.”
“You don’t want to know what’s in my dreams.”
“We agree on that.” She stretches her hand. “Give me your phone, I need to make a call to Derek. My battery died.”
“What do I get in return?”
“My begrudged thank you.”
I smirk as I retrieve my phone and unlock it. Silver makes her call, glaring at me the entire time. Once she finishes, she’s about to return it, but then she focuses back on the screen.
She must’ve touched a button. Her cheeks heat as her eyes widen and that look returns. The look from eight years ago.
It’s the fucking same.
I’ve