It’s been two weeks since my dad became the prime suspect in the Gina Lorne’s case. One week since I’ve seen Sabastian.
We spent the day together after my dad made bail. I enjoyed it as one would pleasurable chaos.
sharing glances of heated history,
while quietening with still very open wounds and it all felt natural.
But I didn’t forget, I didn’t drop my shields I had built around myself ,
a protection against my curse, a protection against Sebastian Delroy and his binding touch.
Sabastian dropped me at home that same day, and it was three days after that when I saw him again.
It was the day him, Jace Stone and my brother finally moved into the monstrosity across the road from my house.
As a good sister and friend I offered to help him unpack. We didn’t finish until late the next morning. It was four days after that when the schools communications app sent out messages of the house party Jace was throwing.
Jace was Reagan’s cousin so I wasn’t surprised my boyfriend insisted we go and it was definitely a party to remember.
Sabastian spent that night hounded by beautiful women and eventually left to his room with Ashley Herne. I can’t say I was okay with that but I didn’t really get a choice in the matter.
To Sabastian, I was the biggest fraud, I was sleeping with his friend. Recently I wasn’t sure how much of friends Reagan and Sabastian actually were.
Watching him go to his room with Ashley ripped my heart but also angered me, stealing something away from me, knowing that he was upstairs touching another girl.
It took everything in me to not run upstairs and disrupt them. However, it was a firm reminder that Sabastian wasn’t mine.
As for Reagan and I? There is a common phrase , hurt me with the truth, never comfort me with a lie. It seems to be a constant reminder of failures in my relationship with Reagan.
Every morning I look at him , every morning I smile a lie of deceitful intent. I used to crave just having his hands on me, but even that too has become tainted.
I don’t hate lying and as many would convince themselves they do I would not, because lying will eventually be the strongest tool I have once Reagan finds out about my involvement with his dead mother. I do however despise the idea of doing it to protect myself against my own boyfriend. The same boyfriend that brings me cherries every morning. The guy that whispers delicious sensual promises in my ear at night. There are mornings when I wake up and ask myself will today be the day that Reagan finds out the truth. I’m not going to make it easy for him if he does.
Reagan can’t just leave me.
I have wanted Reagan Orniel since I started liking boys. I loved the guy. He was my neighbor, my friend and now finally he is my lover. It isn’t the first time I think that, does my heart and mind go to war.
My heart always beats faster, harder when Sabastian is around, or he crosses my mind.
But my mind , my mind warns me of his hurt, of the pain and power he wielded over me.
My mind cautions me of the moment he destroyed me without even a shred of guilt, he didn’t even have to face me, touch me.
“Dainy, Get your ass down here now, we gotta move bitch.” That Southern belle voice perks me up, and brings my mood to a high.
I’m just sitting on my bed and staring at the blank, blackened screen of my phone.
My denim shorts pulled up to the top of my thighs. My white vest blocked by the fan of my open blonde hair.
Upon hearing that voice I am off my bed and rushing out the door in less than a minute.
My feet take the stairs two at a time and right there by the end of the staircase dressed in tight hip hugging black denims , boots, and a body every woman envies and every man dreams about is Kylie fucking Bray.
We hug each other, and it isn’t new to me that my face goes right to breasts.
“Are we living or dying? You said eleven it’s nine.” I take a step away from her embrace giving her eyes my own.
Since the night Reagan went missing Kylie and I have become closer friends. At first I found it weird she was calling me up, I mean she is a Bray, and it’s Kylie,
She is a legend what would she want with me.
But I soon learnt that she just wanted to be friends. This weekend would be the first one I spend at her place in Washington, it is why she’s currently standing in my house and my bags are packed by the door.
Many men have fallen in the face of grace, many women wallowing under the scrutiny of pride. For me it was not grace that caused my fall, it was the hero complex.
The masculine curse to do the right thing. Self sacrifice as some call it. A laugh bubbles up in my mind at how stupid it sounds. With it a deep fire of hatred burning me from the inside, reminding me.
I left Liston Hills , I left Dainy and all my friends behind for one thing, one reason. I was protecting them. I was protecting her most of all.
Now look at me, I have lost more than I bargained. My Vixen is still out of reach, hurting me, pushing the blade deeper until I have nothing left but hatred, yet I still protect her.
These past few weeks I have taken more females to my bed than I had in the past year. I look at myself in the mirror wondering if I am the beginnings of a monster.
I am capable of murder, I am capable of hatred and revenge. And everyday, a longer wait for my Vixen is everyday my heart freezes , closes.
I stare out the window of the third floor of The Delroy Mansion watching Dainy jump into the Jet, but my eyes don’t pause on her as they normally do. My eyes go to the jaded one, that was once like me, Kylie Bray.
She once loved, not long ago and now look at her. She smiles when she feels the need to, does as she has to, but behind it all she is as hard as a steel volt.
I saw Kylie a few weeks back, with Dainy, Jace and Dexter. I barely recognized the Bray heiress.
Her eyes that once flickered with youth, love, passion and a drive for life ,were dim, dying a painful excruciating death.
I saw Kylie again this morning when she landed upon my request to get Dainy away from here for the weekend. She didn’t give me any of her false pretenses, she kept for some people. She let me see the death in her eyes, the monster she was slowly becoming.
I wasn’t surprised, because my father and many of our fathers have that same look. We are born in money , but we are cursed in love. People like us aren’t happy. We are too greedy.
Lies, become more lies, murder becomes a natural part of life and the secrets, the secrets pile up. They eat away at our soul. Until we are nothing but a shell of hard shield.
Honed to keep moving, driven to succeed. And no matter who, or what stands in our way we are taught that there is no other way but to remove the obstacles.
That is the end for today. Stay tuned tomorrow. Same time. Same Place. And Welcome to All our New Liston Hiller’s
To those of you who are new, if you want the story to go a certain way, drop those comments or email me on shanRk@zoho.com