"Hayden," I say when I get back to the shack, finally. He's sitting on the couch staring at the wall. His head turns to me but his eyes stay in the same position as if he's a robot. I start talking again and his eyes finally follow his head. "I need to talk to you," I say.
He nods briefly and gets up. He follows me out and we sit on the cold wooden bench outside Graysons house.
"What's going to happen with the gang now that your fathers dead?" I ask. "I'm sorry to be so blunt but I have to know, are you going to take it over."
Hayden bites his lip.
"Hayden."
"I don't want to," he says finally.
"But you have to."
He's silent, as if he's thinking over his answer, thinking over lying to me or telling the truth.
"Yes." Truth wins.
"Will you?" I ask.
He doesn't respond again.
"Hayden, I'm getting tired of having to say your name. Tell me if your going to take over or not."
"I don't know," he says.
"You don't know!" I laugh. "Hayden, stop bullsh*ting me." It's odd to think just a few hours ago he was comforting me.
"Adeline, I really don't."
"How? How do you not know what your future is if it's been preached to you your whole life?" I ask, irritated, and somewhat making this about my experience with the same thing.
"Because, Adeline, gangs aren't like monarchies. My father is dead. He doesn't know wether I take his position or don't. He never will. Anyone can have it if I say so."
"So tell them you don't want it." The answer is so obvious to me. It's obvious to me because I didn't endure the pain and suffering to train for it, I didn't have to make people fear me. I didn't suffer for nothing. He doesn't want to either. "Unless... you do want it?" I ask him.
He shakes his head. "I never want to remember a life like that. I never want to live like my father did, full of hate. Always dealing with illegal things. That's no life."
"Then what's the problem?" I ask.
"If I don't take charge, someone much worse might."
Why is the world digging me into a deeper whole by the day? Why can't I just be left on surface level forever?
"Hayden, that's not your problem anymore."
"I have men there, men who aren't ready for some of the other people to be leaders."
"They can leave the gang, easy."
He laughs at that. "Easy." The word slides off his tongue in a way I don't recognize from him. He leans back on the bench. "Nothing is easy. Leaving a gang is impossible."
"You're going to do it."
"No," he shakes his head. "I might not be a part of it, but I'll never leave it. I'll never be free of it. Things like that follow you around forever, they hang over your head, drag behind you."
"Oh, Hayden," I sigh.
He nods. "It's impossible."
"What happened to us?" I ask, anger rising as I realize none of this should have happened. If I hadn't been attempted murdered, I wouldn't have met Sonya, so I never would have experienced the pain of losing her, I never would have gotten hooked on alcohol because I never would have been partying, I never would have been kidnapped, I never would have met Hayden, or found out my brother was murdered, or that my father is the leading role in all of it.
Hayden doesn't respond to my question but I don't mind. We sit in silence and stare at the stars until it gets too cold.
________
When I open my eyes the next morning, the first thing I notice is the smell of bacon. It's a disturbing smell once I connect it to something I've smelt that was a little too similar to bacon, burning flesh. Not too long ago, when the fire happened, that's what I smelt. It's what Sam smelled like. The thought makes my stomach do flips.
I get off the floor and look around, nobody's in the living room anymore. I hear them laughing and talking in the kitchen. Why didn't they wake me?
"Adeline, what a pleasant surprise," Sam says with a smile. She's not burnt at all, there are no scars on her face or arms or chest, nothing.
"Wow," I say sitting down a few seats away from her in the only open chair. "He fixed you up nice, huh?"
"Fixed me up?" Sam looks confused, as if I just said two plus two equals three.
"From the fire?" My eyebrows furrow in confusion.
"Fire? Adeline, are you feeling all right?" Jody asks me. I don't respond, how should I? I don't know if I am.
Everyone at the table is staring at me, their de mentions are stretching and getting smaller, they aren't stable.
Or am I the one that's not stable?
Soon the table is disappearing, then the chairs and then I'm on the floor and everyone is surrounding me, with their oddly expanding and contracting bodies.
They're screaming at me, the sounds are inhumane. They sound like they're burning, or being skinned alive, they sound like they're experiencing a lot of pain and they're pointing it at me, blaming it on me.
"I would rather burn myself than love you." Hayden's voice rises above the others. I focus on him, my head tilts in confusion and then I remember.
The others keep screaming things like it's my fault my fathers apart of the gang, my fault my parents might be dead, my fault my brothers dead, they're saying I did everything. I ruined everything.
"W-what?" I ask, zeroing in on Hayden. I know what the others are saying isn't true. My father did all that. It wasn't me. I need to get information out of Hayden, because he's the only one telling the truth. I try to stand but the ground isn't real. It's an illusion and each time I put my hands down to catch my balance, it's like they fall through the surface.
Hayden never elaborates, he just says the same thing over and over again.
"I would rather burn myself than love you."
"I would rather burn myself than love you."
"I would rather burn myself than love you."
"I would rather burn myself than love you."
And then my eyes open and the first thing I notice is the disturbing smell of bacon.
Word count: 1094
(Not revised)
12-20-23
4:22 pm
Bringing up the lighter again after all the chaos....
YOU ARE READING
Royal love
RomanceAdeline Palmer, the crown Princess of France, was sent to a boarding school after someone attempted her life. Suddenly, a few months into her stay at the school, people start going missing and turning up dead a few days later, tortured to death. Wh...
