Spare Princess

Things You'll Never Understand

Geneva

That man again.

He just sits there in his fancy car, staring at me like he wants to f*ucking strangle me on the spot and I… for some reason I can’t lift my walls fast enough and dismiss that hatred away or put it back in the vault where I hide everyone else’s so it won’t break me one day.

What he did back at the cemetery, it caught me off guard and I am still shaken by it. I am used to people hating me, but no one has ever shown it in this visceral, personal manner… no one has humiliated me the way he did.

I mean, it does speak volumes about what a s*hitty person he is to spit on a stranger he’s never met before. Who even acts like that on impulse? A real a*sshole, that’s who. And he’s what, like at least forty years older than me. Aren’t senior people supposed to be wiser?

The urge to walk to his polished SUV, break that bulletproof window with my bare fists and scream at him that it’s not fair, that he’s the bastard for doing something like this, and at his age, is overwhelming. The problem is, he’s probably right in hating me. And he’s not that old, not really. I bet mid forties. Still older than me, but not enough to call it creepy old.

I don't. Break into his SUV I mean. Instead, I just bottle it up all inside and pretend it’s fine. Like it doesn’t matter at all, like I don’t care, because why should I? He’s just one person from a long list of people who want to see me dead anyway.

I just… As I look at him, drowning in those cold black eyes of his, I am losing even the little confidence I have mustered over the years, and a big part of me wonders if it would be better to give it all up. Just turn around and go back to where I came from. Nobody wants me here anyway.

But as the traffic lights change from red to green and that man switches gears only to ride off with dirty speed down Main Street, I know I can’t do it. I will not let someone like him break me apart. I worked hard to get to where I am today. A year ago I would never even think of coming back or showing my face to anyone I used to know. I was horrified by my past and the mistakes I’d made. And here I am today, not exactly the good guy, but not a real villain either.

The nightmares are not so damn intense like they used to be when I am in Redwind. I have even almost stopped looking behind my back every time I show my face on the street. And somehow, going back with my tail tucked between my legs, feels like a damn surrender.

So, no, Mr. Silver Fox, I am not going to back down just because you hate me. Welcome to the club. I will take your hate and twist it into mine, and I will not give you the satisfaction of seeing me breaking because of you. You are just a bully in a fancy suit and I will be damned if I let you define my actions.

I take a deep breath, then another one, forcing myself to remain calm. What happened doesn’t matter. Who I am, how I came to be, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that I am here. That I am surviving despite everyone hating me with passion. I don’t care about them.

My feet carry me to the convenience store down the street where I was headed anyway. To get some wine for Ian’s dinner. After all, I’ve been trained in manners by Genevieve Valentine. Of course, I won’t show up empty-handed or worried, or in a bad mood.

As I scurry down the isles, thinking about all the things I can’t afford, a part of me wonders if I should break into Veronica’s mansion and steal some of her fancy ass wine. God knows she won’t miss it. I bet that b*itch won’t be able to appreciate a good bottle of wine even if her life depended on it. I bet she won’t even notice it’s missing.

But I am not that girl anymore. I don’t steal things that were supposed to be mine from people who stole them away from me first. No, I buy my stuff from the grocery store like everybody else. Get the things I can afford with my waitress salary and pretend like it’s fine.

Today I decide to be steep. I grab the first thing I see, reminding myself I need to keep my cash for Quinn. God, Quinney, my only friend in the entire world… my heart breaks a little thinking about him but then again I am more worried about his mom than him. He’s a cunning little s*hit who can lie his way out of any situation, so even in prison I know he’ll be fine. He did survive juvie after all. But Mindy, that’s another thing.

See? I have a life of my own. I have two friends. It doesn’t matter that one of them is an imprisoned thief who has no idea about the existence of the shifter world, and the other one is his dying mom. Better than nothing.

On my way out of the store I almost manage to convince myself that I am not pretending I don’t care about what happened at the cemetery. Of course I don’t. I am not even thinking about it anymore.

Too anxious for no good reason, I decide to walk to Ian’s old house instead of calling a cab. It’s a good one hour on foot but I don’t have a car anyway so why not? I try to focus on the good things. I mean, it was my grandmother’s funeral today, but it’s not like she was my real grandmother. I am not related to anyone in the Valentine clan, not in the way it’s important so f*uck it. Another tie to my past is gone with her. Another brick in the bridge that connects me to the girl I used to be broken.

Oh, yeah, good things. Winter is just around the corner and it’s my favourite season. The sun is trying to break through above my head in the cold November afternoon but the grey clouds are too stubborn to let it burn them. Also, once today is over, I can go back home to my cat and give him a big, big hug. Nothing cures depression like the feel of my baby’s fluff against my cheeks. Of course, I will have to survive the bus ride home first, because god forbid I use my evil skills to steal a jeep again from Veronica or Victor’s garage.

Another good thing - the statue in Ian’s front yard, the one which, according to the legend, used to be a guy once, it doesn’t talk to me anymore. Nope. It left last year after Ian and I did a spell that a dead witch showed me. It just huffed and puffed and now the soul inside is gone. I wonder where it went. Did it get reborn? Does rebirth exist? Do people, things, like me get to be reborn again? I wish, if rebirth is a thing, I’d turn into a tree in my next life. Something more solid. I might live with the other trees in the forest, grounded, unbothered and happy among my own.

It takes me less than an hour to reach Ian’s house. I did hurry here but the cold caught up to me, alongside the curiosity. My feet hurt and my nose is freezing but hey, I didn't give up and now I am here. The clouds above me have turned grey and the day is already dying. As my eyes land on the stone statue, the empty one, I know it's not that bad. I am alive. That should be enough, right?