Chapter 5
1244 Words
Shana
This day can’t be over fast enough. I’m mentally exhausted from last night when I had to deal with my drunk mom. My mind drifts away to dreamland during every class, and I only pay attention when our mentor reminds us of the ski trip that all the seniors are privileged to sign up for, which I have already done.
Surprisingly, it’s something I’m actually looking forward to. One weekend in the snowy mountains far away from my mom might be precisely what I need to charge my batteries.
If only Vincent weren’t going...
I shake my head and push that rotten bully out of my head before racing to my last class. The music professor called in sick, and we aren’t obligated to practice on our instruments, but that’s exactly why I’m going—if no one else is going, I can sing inside the auditorium with a real microphone and pretend I’m a famous singer.
I walk into the auditorium and take a deep breath. The stale air is filled with the faint scent of wood polish and dust. I make my way to the stage and look out into the empty seats. This is where I feel the most alive.
Happiness bubbles up in my chest as I fix the sound and put on the microphone. It doesn’t take long until I’m done and holding the microphone in my hand.
Deep breaths.
Push away your fears.
Don’t overthink.
Just sing.
I close my eyes and begin to sing a sad song I’ve written, letting my voice fill the empty space. Images of me fighting my mom fill my head, and tears streak along my cheeks as I pour my heart out into the lyrics.
As I sing, I feel a presence inside the room. I open my eyes and come face to face with Vincent. He is leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, watching me with an intensity that makes me uncomfortable.
My cheeks burn. I wouldn’t have dared to sing if I knew he was watching me. “W-what do you want, Vincent?”
“I heard your voice in the corridor and came to listen to you sing,” he replies, his voice low and husky. There is vivid interest in his eyes.
It frightens me.
“I-I see...”
“You have a beautiful voice,” he says, tilting his head with a faint smirk. “That’s surprising. I guess the people you least expect are the ones to have hidden talents.”
I feel my stomach churn at the insinuation in his tone. “What do you mean?”
Does he mean that I don’t look like I can sing? There is a lot of fat shaming going on within our school’s walls, and it wouldn’t surprise me if Vincent thought appearance played a part in whether or not a person can sign.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Vincent strides forward, his gaze burning with sizzling heat as he stops just inches away from me. “You’re always so timid and quiet. I never expected you to have such a powerful voice.”
“I... thank you,” I stammer, instinctively taking a step back and feeling the microphone slip from my fingers. Vincent catches it and sets it back on its stand.
“You’re welcome,” Vincent murmurs, still too close for comfort.
My heart beats faster in my chest at seeing him help me, and I take another step back. “W-why are you being nice to me?”
Vincent looks down at me with a flicker of amusement in his blue eyes. I can see he is thinking about something, but I don’t know the meaning behind the slight curve of his lips. Is it confusion? Curiosity? Anticipation? I’m not quite sure what to expect from him.
He approaches me, and I gulp and back away from him until my back is flat against the back of the piano. I can’t escape from Vincent and hold my breath when he grabs my chin, lifting it up to force me to look at him.
Why is he so tall?
I’m struggling to keep eye contact while Vincent looks amused, as if liking the size difference between us. “On the first day of freshman year, you were singing on the bus. Innocently showing your true colors in this dull, boring world.”
Uh, what? I don’t remember that. Why is he bringing that up all of a sudden?
“You sparked with so many colors and seemed so positive. It annoyed the hell out of me.” He leans in a little closer, hot breath against my face. I try to turn my head away from him, but his fingers press into my cheeks, holding me captive. A wicked smile is playing on his lips. “From that day, I knew I had to destroy you. Prepare you for this broken world.”
I want to laugh, but instead, I choke on a sob. “And you didn’t stop to think that I might be broken already? You knew nothing about me!”
Anger ticks against his jaw, and I would be lying if I claimed I wasn’t scared. Vincent’s darkness scares me more than any ghost or demon ever could. The guy is a beautiful monster set here on earth to destroy me.
I shiver when he strokes my cheek because it’s not a kind gesture. This is how Vincent breaks people—he pretends to be nice before he ruins his victims.
It’s cruel.
“How could you possibly be broken?” he asks, keeping my chin tipped up at an uncomfortable angle. “You still look at me with those defiant eyes, so my work here isn’t done.”
Tears drip down on the floor—my tears. Vincent’s eyes widen when he sees them, and he releases me with a torn look on his chiseled face. Did he just look sorry? A bubble of hope lifts from my chest, but when I look at him again, I’m sure I must have imagined his second of kindness.
He is back to looking haughty.
“I will see you at the ski resort.”
He turns away from me then, but I grab his arm. “Wait!”
Vincent stares down at my hand, then lifts his murderous eyes up to my face. “This better be good.”
I immediately release his strong arm but don’t back down despite my fear. I whisper the question burning inside my head, “Why me?”
“Because I want to see what you look like when you’re broken down and empty like everyone else.”
His voice is cold, and he doesn’t waste any time leaving the auditorium. I want to follow him. I want to know why he wants to break me so badly. I want to know what he hates so much about me. Did this all start only because I sang on some bus three years ago?!
My mind is racing with questions, but no matter how badly I want answers, I don’t run after Vincent. There is a voice in the back of my head warning me not to go. He didn’t seem calm when he left, and that terrifies me.
Vincent is so much larger than me, and it wouldn’t surprise me if he one day snapped and hurt me.
It’s only a question of when.
- Writer
