Villain

Prologue

A/N: If you see italics it means the scene is taking place in the past. 

CONSTANCE

I rolled over to the edge of my canopy bed, aimlessly slapping the screen of my phone as an attempt to shut off my alarm. I blinked rapidly, my eyes adjusting to the brightness of the phone screen in my still dark room. I usually wake up confused and groggy, but now even more so. Why did I set an alarm for 7 am on a Saturday? 

Then, my eyes trailed over the picture of Esme and I that was set as my lock screen. Ah, I remember now.  Although I fought hard to conceal it, even in the solitude and stillness of my room, my lips arched at the corners, my stiff face cracking with the formation of a smile. 

I shook my head, composing myself, before pulling open the doors of my walk-in closet. Hmm, what does one wear in a trip to an amusement park?

I observed my choices dryly.  A huge closet, about the size of a small kitchen, yet not one article of clothing with any color. I didn't know why I stood there for so long, twiddling my thumbs like a ninny. Esme never cared about this anyway. With that thought, I grabbed whichever shade of black appealed to me the most at this hour. 

With my newfound minty breath and slightly tamed hair, I pattered down the street until I reached the Riddle estate and stopped before a large, regal gate that went past my head even in my junior year of high school. I was never short, the gate was just very tall. It loomed over me, quite similarly to the one in front of my father's mansion, the beautiful, intricate designs around it disguising the sharp, pointed spikes at the top. 

"Good morning, Miss. Here to see the Riddles?"

I stepped up to the intercom, clearing my throat. "No. I wish to speak to the O'Malleys please."

"What's your ID?"

"My name is Constance Montero." There's the magic phrase.

"Ah, thought I recognized you. Have a nice visit."

The gates opened. I eyed the cameras scrutinizing me before walking into the estate, passing the mansion on my way. Ignoring the boy with sandy colored hair snoring into the pages of book on a chaise lounge by the pool, I walked around the back of the mansion to a separate, fenced off area where a small yellow house awaited me. 

I stopped a few feet before the small gate, in mid stride. He was there. 

Wren McCray. 

He sat on the ground, reclining against the slightly dirty picket fence behind him with his knees bent in front of him. One elbow was propped up on his knee, the hand supporting his chin. The position was thoughtful, even philosophical, until you looked up at his face and saw the devil.

My hands shook and I dropped my purse. He was sitting there against the O'Malley's fence, like a heavy drop of ink soaking into a blank piece of paper, absorbing the whiteness, choking it with his spite. A spot of poison amidst the pure. His thumb rubbed his bottom lip, brushing back and forth, but not disturbing the venomous smile on his face. The smile that told you to run for your life and never look back.  

I glanced into his eyes, narrowed with malice, and thought of Konan, my first love, and of Mr. Fable, the first grown up outside my family who I had learned to relied on. They looked at me with loud desperation and anger, and after a fleeting moment of panic, my heart broke again. 

I gritted my teeth. "What did you do?" I hissed. Esme.  

His smile grew wider and he pulled himself up, brushing away the dirt from the back of his jeans. I grit my teeth with each step he took towards me. He paused inches from my face, lowering his voice to a soft murmur. "I think you know, but I ruined your life again. Go on, Connie. Knock on the door. I'm sure they'll welcome you with open arms."

He flashed his teeth in an ugly, wide grin and sidestepped me, his sturdy shoulder knocking into mine as he left. I stared widely at the spot he was just moments ago, feeling short of breath. The feeling was what one felt after waking up from a nightmare. Except, I woke into one instead. 

I ran to the little yellow house, my heart thrumming wildly in my chest. No. Not Esme.

The door opened a few seconds after my urged knocks, and I was met with the cloudy, angry face of Mr. O'Malley. It was done-- I was too late.

He tried to close the door on me, but I persisted, holding it back with the palm of my hand. "Please! I can fix this!" Lie.

A pale face framed with dark locks peered under his arm. Her hair hung in a sweet bob that ended at her chin, the tips painted a bright purple. The blue eyes that always studied me in intense warmth, pulling me into their depths for a mellow embrace, were now shielded with a sheen of  tears. 

"Why would you do this to us?" she cried.

Esme pushed her father behind her, storming up to me with an estranged hatred in her gaze. "That boy told us that if I continue to be your friend, he will get both my parents fired from their jobs! What did I ever do to you, huh?" She pushed me back, all the way until my feet were on the other side of their front yard. "Get out of my face, bitch! I don't ever want to see you again!" she screamed.

She paused, breathing loudly, searching my face. For what, I don't know. Maybe for signs of repentance or regret. Anything, really, would have been better than the stiff, impassive mask that had molded back onto my face. She hung her head, gave a quiet wail, then turned away from me. 

Not even her. I wasn't able to protect her.

I dragged my feet back home.

I had enough. I wouldn't fight with Wren. I wouldn't seek out revenge. Feeling anger was good. But I didn't feel anything.

I walked up the steps and entered his office.

If I had to pussy my way out of this, then so be fucking it. I was done. I just wanted to get away.

I approached his desk, where he was seated, hunched over his computer. 

"Dad. I want to transfer."