Rich Boys Don't Have Hearts

26 | VIGINTI SENIO

so i was a little nervous today cause i waited for the election results in my school so i could share it to you guys (it was either good or bad) so here it is:

I WONNNNN! i'm officially my school's vice president (external) in the student council!! i'm getting my own aiko vibes from here and idk what to feel :-)

also if anyone here is in booktwt, mbtwt, writetwt, or hftwt (basically an abbreviation of the sides of twitter that talks about books, writing, high fashion, creates visuals and moodboards) comment your twitter @  so i can follow you!!!

i made an account yesterday and my user is @/HOUSEOFSOFI hopefully i see yall in twt so we can interact more! i'm willing to make a bookclub gc that talks about writing and books and literature so if any of u writers (or readers) want to join drop ur @

okay, i'll stop now. here's chapter 26!

♕

THERE WAS NO WAY OF TELLING TIME IN A PLACE THAT SEEMED TO SLOW IT DOWN. The clock I had was the minutes of the rhythmic drip of ice cold water on a hollow ground from a leak above a ceiling I couldn't see. It pattered until it was the only sound that is known to me that it begun to sound like footsteps. Until I could no longer distinguish the men coming in and out of my room and the water, that at times is merciful enough to lend me something to hold onto. No matter how cold it must be. In that cell, I sobbed and even begged for my father, who never cared for me anyways. I might have gotten down on my knees and begged him to save me. Even if the only saving hands that can take me back was too cold for me to tell if time still even flowed.

There were no clocks present in this dim room.

But I was halted from feeling, my mind fogged up. Even if someone told me the time, I couldn't process the numbers.

I'm glad I can't. If I was aware of the resemblance in this room to that cell, I would've been much worse than I was a few hours ago.

"Please wait, Ms. Rockefeller. Chief Zai will be here soon for your dismissal." A woman says on the other end of the table.

From the side of my eye, I can see the glint of her badge. Indicating a position of high authority. A blaring smoke through white mist.

I had my own authority. My own gold glinting with an 'R' on my finger. It was a beckoning,

Cuff the heir of Rockefeller, I dare you.

I nod as a reply, my eyes on the black surface of the table like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

My hands lay on my lap. There's dried blood on the dirty green tulle. I wonder what Malena would say about this, if I facetimed her right now and all the fashion designers would gawk over the monstrosity on their artwork.

I lingered on a cut that frayed the beads open and split through an imitation of a rose petal.

The door swings open, and I hear a batter of heavy boots.

"Ms. Rockefeller." He greets. "I'm Chief Zai. Nice to meet you again."

I look at him up and down. Chief Zai has almond eyes and sleek, straight eyebrows. Much like mine. He wore a tan uniform and adorns a leather hat that was now on his hip as he held in his hand.

"Pleasant evening?" I ask him. His eyes narrow.

I lean forward and weave my fingers together on the table.

His eyes dart to the blood that covered the entirety of my palms, a dried drip line in between my knuckles.

He exhales a slow breath, takes a chair and sits down. I don't know if he's troubled about the blood or the way my hands are not cuffed.