KIERA.
Unnoticed, unwanted and quite the underdog, I slipped into my room upstairs. The tears I restrained earlier backfired on me. Why hadn't anyone sued karma for being a heartless bitch ten thousand years before my birth? Sad thoughts bugged my memory, pushing me back to three months ago.
Three months, since when Dad threw me out of his house, officially denounced me as his daughter. Three months since I foolishly assumed that he loved me enough to gladly share my burden. Three months since I lost everything that mattered; my family, my job, and my heart. Just when the puzzles in my life appeared to be sorting themselves together, they were blown apart again. A slight tapping on the door cut short my wearisome contemplations.
It cracked open, revealing Amie on the other side, holding a tray bearing two glasses of lemon juice which she sat on my bedside table.
"Is now a good time?" She muttered.
I shrugged half-heartedly but turned my back to her, sniffling quietly. As it was, I had enough on my plate already, and I'd rather not add Amie's fussing to the pile.
"You okay?" She gently lay her arm across my shoulders; I loved such a friendly reminder that someone out there still cared. She led me to sit on the queen-size bed dressed in pristine sheets. It smelled like a garden of roses in paradise.
Unable to zip it in any longer, I released the dam pent up in feverish, choking sobs. She patiently waited for me to get to the stage of blowing my nose and suffering a headache before handing out a fat wad of scented tissues.
"Let it all out, sweetie. Come on and cry like you'll never have a chance to do it again," she soothed me while rubbing my back.
I chortled at her dark humor. There were so many things I desired to whisper, this moment felt so right. Silence prevailed all around us. We were nearly sequestered away from other guests in the mansion, besides, she had a dazzling smile pasted on her face. Unfortunately, when I opened my mouth, the words remained trapped in my stomach. This was one of the many embarrassing times I count my condition as a curse.
"Don't worry about talking," she offered sympathetically. "I understand what you're passing through."
Amie stood up, sauntered over to the table and brought both glasses on her next trip to the bed.
"No," I said flatly, "You don't truly understand. You're just like everybody else, but here I was thinking you shared in my stupid plight."
She dropped the glass she'd been holding straight on the floor, propelling it's shattering into tiny transparent bits swimming in yellow liquid. I remembered she was still a maid, and I was still a special guest in Dylan's eyes, so she had to clean up the mess she carelessly created.
"What are you waiting for? To hear that I'm sorry for standing my ground and refusing to be added to your pity party?"
"Oh Miss," she reverted to her initial method of addressing me, "I didn't mean to offend you. I just..."
"Did?" I crossed my arms under my bust as I leapt from the loathsome bed.
I was profusely tired of people concluding that I had ASD or another terminal disability. Before I was thrown into the river and left for dead, I was so talkative that they labelled me as an ADHD patient. Were popular romance novels which saturated the market responsible for my dilemma? Was it my weird switches between moods and behavioural traits? Focus, Kiera. Focus on this lame girl breaking down your walls as though it's her birthright.
"I don't need your pity. If you have nothing better to say other than remind me of my mundane life, kindly use the door. Don't you dare recount this incident to Dylan. Now piss off."
"Kiera, I'm... " She fidgeted.
"Sorry? Heck yes, you better be. Because I neither appreciate nor believe any of it. We're done as friends here, Amie. Go back downstairs, finish your maid service. If your... " I rolled my eyes suggestively, "Ask for me at dinner, tell them I'm too sick to see their prejudiced faces."
"I wish you'd give me a chance to explain," Amie persisted.
I glanced at her fidgeting near the windowsill. Lemonade consumed the room in it's tropical, therapeutic scent.
"Nope, I'm good," I responded crossly.
**
Once the door slammed shut, I decided to start packing my things in preparation to leave this crazy mansion for good. But I had no possessions, there not a cufflink in this house I could call mine. What was the point in staying when absolutely everyone thought I was a liability?
I was proud of myself for lashing out at Amie but also worried about my cover being blown. The entire family might be aware of the fact that I could indeed speak fluently and that alone proved a major dent in my plans. Gosh, I should have been more careful. Dylan would be trapped in the assumption that I was a shamefaced liar. I face palmed myself mentally and physically, to no avail of the messed up situation. To add pepper to my already sore injuries, my stomach growled and rumbled like a grandfather cat.
Heaving a tired sigh, I collapsed on my bed and switched off the disturbing lights, ready to sleep on an empty stomach. Ten million thoughts chased one another in my head. All of them sounded like set-ups by form five girls in the Malory Towers series, determined but impractical.
I had no keys to the house. If I would have the slimmest chance of bolting from the household at first wake of dawn, I needed an escape route. So I curled up under the white duvet drawn up to my chin level when Dylan barged inside drawing a score to settle with God-knows-Who.
"Get up," he ordered.
I winced at the double severity engraved in his tone. Which served to refuel his blazing anger.
Without another word, he tore the duvet away from my body and shook me so hard that I jumped awake faster than I ever had in the last twenty years. The last time before then was after I had my first real, horrendous nightmare at eight. Dylan domineered the full vicinity of the room, scowling hard as a kid neglected by Santa.
"Well?" He ground his teeth vigorously.
"Well?" I echoed the ambiguous question. Speaking of a totally clueless offender.
"Are you going to eat up or do I have to force you?"
Until this moment, I had not observed a fancy glass tray decorated with gold linings at it's edges carry the a round plate and tumbler fashioned up similarly.
"I'm not hungry," I told my fiftieth white lie.
And yes, I was counting upwards. The milestone was to surpass hundred lies by the time I clocked the big four zero.
"Why do you love it?"
I swallowed a whole breath. "Excuse me?"
"Lying. You've been lying ever since you regained consciousness. Is it some kinda defence mechanism for you?" He fixed me the look loaded with disappointment.
The room seemed to enlarge in size as I felt so small in it, sitting under immense scrutiny of the Master. I was trapped between the double edges of his invisible sword. The truth bubbled in my throat but I forced it down. I couldn't tell him. I must not. If it meant losing his trust which I never completely enjoyed anyways, so be it. Either that or nothing.
"Dylan, please let me explain." His name tasted delicious on my tongue.
I smiled sweetly up at him in hopes of dispelling his awry thoughts.
"Fine," he gave in, sitting on the edge of the bed.
I caught him sniffing a chunk of the sheets he fisted discreetly.
"They're germs-free. You won't catch anything," I huffed.
"No no no, not that," he rushed like a criminal arrested in the act.
"Then what?"
"I just..."
"Never mind. I understand if you don't want to tell me. So, as I was saying before you apparently started worrying about my hygiene..."
"I just wanted to smell you again," he blurted. "I kinda like it."
"Checking out my perfume or the perfume itself?" I cocked an eyebrow perfectly.
To my utmost surprise, he laughed.
"Kiera," Dylan murmured in a low voice, pulling my strings as the true master of the art.
My body awakened, then weakened, then softened into mush. Fireworks and butterflies sang through my entire system; the heat from our first encounter returned at it's highest temperature.
"Drop it," he said dangerously low.
"What?"
"Drop it. Your hands raised in the air. No matter what you do, how many lies you tell, I'm never going to hurt you. So are you going to let me know why you lied or admire this gorgeous face forever?"