Hunting the Fairy Tale

Chapter 3 - The Other Mural

Willow

Dinner was an ordeal. I am relieved to have it over with so that I can finally be alone in my bedroom.

Aunt Beth served lasagne good enough to be sold at the finest restaurant, I'm sure. I love pasta dishes, lasagne being one of my favourites, which I strongly suspect is why she made it. Between his silly jokes, Uncle Ryan grilled my mother about Aunt Beth's past sins... and apparently, there were many! They exchanged stories that had everyone laughing along. The mood had been relaxed, the food tasty, the conversation entertaining, and yet I couldn't wait to escape to the sanctuary of this room... my room.

The problem boils down to only one word: Hunter.

I have no idea what's going on with me! Yes, I grew up in an extremely strict environment. I'm not used to comfortable dinnertime conversations and bantering... and fun. My only access to boys had been when the debate team of the elite boys' school visited Mount Sovereign Girls to compete. Or when the two schools had one of their awkward let's-stare-at-each-other-across-the-room get-togethers. Or when my grandmother dragged me to some formal business function or meeting during which I'd been the trophy on display.

None of the boys I've ever met had had this effect on me. James Radley is one excellent example of the type of male I'm used to. He'd been the male lead in the story of my life for the last two years. When it comes to looks, he is all sunshine and sparkle, probably outdoing Hunter by yards, and yet... nothing... No interest. He didn't ignite even so much as a hint of a spark in me; in fact, he'd expertly evoked the direct opposite. And he'd always been squeaky clean and polite. 

The ideal man, right?

It might be because he is the biggest, most arrogant elitist I've ever met in my entire life, and that says it all because I've met many. Also, he admires himself with a passion. There is no room in his life for anybody but himself unless, of course, they can help him climb the social ladder. Most of my schoolmates went wild whenever they saw him, but he'd always left me completely cold. Terrifyingly cold, given the circumstances I'd been trapped in.

I may sound like a snob when I speak, but I'm not one at all. My world had been filled with scores of stuck-up people who value themselves more than others. People who remained my friends for as long as good fortune was my companion, and friendship with me could possibly benefit them. They'd abandoned me in an instant when my future suddenly turned dark. I abhor people like that and always have. I've never quite fit into my previous life. 

Perhaps my father had made too big an impression on me during the first five years of my life. Seeing the way in which my mother had been treated this past decade without him there to protect her didn't help. I simply could not allow myself to become one of them.

So, am I becoming one of them now that I'm free of that life?

Just because Hunter apparently likes to attempt to murder his friends over a ball and doesn't seem to mind being covered in grime and blood doesn't mean that he has any less value than any other, more civilized person.

Besides, sitting across from me at the kitchen table, he'd been the poster boy for wholesomeness. That might actually be the problem. He is an enigma. The Hunter that sat across from me did not fit with the violent Hunter I saw in action in the park (not that I'd recognised him). There are too many versions of Hunter. There's the Hunter that cuddled my dog in the foyer, the Hunter that played with his little brother, the Hunter that smirked at me and looked more than a little menacing, and the Hunter that painted the mural I love.

Which one is the real Hunter?

His appetite was voracious tonight. He'd basically wolfed down his food, accepting more when Aunt Beth offered to refill his plate, and her portions were more than generous. I've never seen anybody eat like that before. Fascinating! By his fourth refill, Uncle Ryan remarked on it with an amused grin: "Hungry, Hunter?"