“Fuck you.” Adam laughs and Jace grunts. I can picture Adam hitting him.
“And if he did listen to me, which he won’t, she won’t have a choice, you know that. Once he gets an idea in his head, that’s it.”
“Fuck.” Adam sighs. “But maybe it will be good for her? Maybe if she’s out of his sight she won’t grow up to hate his fucking guts the way we do.”
“Maybe. It’s a long shot seeing the way he treats her now. Anyway, I’m off to meet Silas.”
The sound of their retreating footsteps makes me feel more relaxed. I no longer have to hold my breath and try to keep as quiet as possible. I know it’s wrong to sneak around and eavesdrop, but I enjoy spying on people. The last few times, I almost caught Jace with a girl in his room, and I quickly left, too grossed out by the sounds she was making. My father is the one I like to spy on the most. I secretly hide in his office and watch him work. Studying him while he’s on the phone or writing on his computer, fascinated by the intense look on his face, the concentration. I sit hidden in a trunk in the corner of our library, watching him through the keyhole, wondering if I could figure out why he doesn’t like me, but I can’t figure it out. The closest I have come is the night I caught my father looking at a picture of my mother. Just a flash of sadness on his face before he locked it away.
I carefully open the cabinet and crawl out, dusting my knees and standing. There is a rip in my tights, and my hair is probably filled with spider webs. Maria won’t clean under here because she is afraid of anything eight-legged, which means it is the perfect hiding place when she’s not around.
I head to my room. It’s my sanctuary. The one place in my father’s mansion that I spend most of my time.
Dinner will be ready soon, and I don’t want to be late. I run upstairs and quickly shed my clothing, putting on my black dress. I brush my long, black hair, making sure it’s perfectly smooth. If I look neat then Father doesn’t frown as much. I think it’s because when I have my hair loose, I look like my mother.
It always makes me feel good that I look like her. My favorite picture is the one where she wears her hair half up and half down, with a pink bow at the top.
But her art, her heart was what I loved the most. Her sketchbook was the best part, untilheripped it up. Now I don’t have anything left. I’ve tried to re-create her pictures, but Ican’t get it right. And I don’t draw happy things like she did. He wouldn’t like what I draw. I hide those in a secret part of my closet. Sometimes I draw dead things, creepy things. Last week, I checked out an art book at the public library that was about death, and I was fascinated by the pictures inside. My father would disapprove, and it might scare our housekeeper. Even Jace and Adam don’t know. My new favorite thing is my collection of insects and I draw their wings and body parts using a microscope. I enjoy discovering items that I can use to recreate their bodies. Bits of odds and ends. A scrap of silky cloth for their wings. A bead for their bodies. Broken wires for antennas. I wish I could re-make my mother as easily. Bring her back to life. I know it’s stupid, but it’s my secret wish. One I haven’t told anyone. People would make fun of me.
When I was six I asked my brother about how our mother died. Jace has always been honest and told me that she lay in her bed for hours before our housekeeper found her, cold and lifeless. Over the years, when Jace and Adam talk about that day, I desperately wish I could have seen her. As morbid as it sounds, I wanted to know what she was like, even in death.
Sitting on my bed I pull my owl stuffy, Orion from his hiding place and hug him close, cuddling him to my chest. Keeping him a secret is just another thing I have to do, because once my father saw me bringing him to dinner, he told me that it was time I grew up and got rid of my baby toys. The next day I came home and all my stuffies were gone. Thrown away by my father’s edit.
I cried and raged at what he had done, until Maria snuck into my room and handed me Orion, telling me to keep him hidden when I wasn’t in my room in case my father appeared and found him. Since then, I’ve hidden him behind my headboard. He gets flattened each time and each time I fluff him out.
I breathe in his familiar scent of the fabric softener Maria uses when she washes him. One of his eyes is coming loose andI try to push it back in. He’s ratty and old, but I hold him close, needing to feel his familiar shape in my arms.
My brother, Jace, got it for me on my 5th birthday. He once told me that owls like to vomit, and as a five-year-old, I was fascinated. He gave me an owl pellet and I spent hours picking out the bones, feathers, and insect poop. I love it, and Jace has given me an owl pellet every birthday since then.
It’s one of my favorite things that I get on my birthday. I don’t care about dolls or clothes. Adam gives me books and Jace gives me art supplies and my pellets.
I’ve assembled skeletons of many different rodents and small animals. Putting those bones back together, recreating the form of those digested animals eased something in my soul about my mother’s death.
Tucking him away, I sigh and check my hair one more time. Maybe boarding school will be good. Maybe I will make friends.
The Precursor
I eat ashes for food, and my tears fall into my drinks.Because of your great anger, you have picked me up and thrown me away. My days are like a passing shadow; I am like dried grass.
- Psalms 102:9-14
Chapter 3
May-Present Day
“Jesus Christ. Who the fuck is that?” Jacqueline asks, breathlessly, pulling down her shades.
I turn to look at what she is looking at and nearly swallow my tongue, because who the fuck is that, indeed.
“Christ, it’s raining sexy men lately.” Jacqueline keeps talking under her breath, and I keep staring, wholeheartedly agreeing with her. “First Daddy Sloane shows up with all his sexy Black man energy. It’s bad enough I’m around Silas and your brother in the office all day. Then Tatum and Sloane show up and I’m surrounded. Then Ben and his nerdy professor energy are added in. And now we have this fine specimen all up in my face on my day of rest? I was taking a break from men, dammit.”
Fine specimen indeed. Normally, I don’t react like this around men. Yes, there are many attractive men in our vicinity. Three of them are currently swimming in my brother’s Olympic backyard pool. Like Jacqueline, I too am abstaining from men. No one has made me pay attention like this in a long ass time.
Jacqueline whistles under her breath while she twirls one of her long black braids around her finger, hissing. “Is that a six pack?”
“Eight,” I absently answer, narrowing my eyes behind my shades. I am definitely counting eight. The man walks across Jace’s manicured lawn, slowly, looking unbothered by anything and anyone. There’s something predatory in those long, lean strides. Nothing about him says pool parties. No board shorts or flip-flops for this one.
A gray T-shirt, rolled up sleeves, seemingly the only concession to the scorching temperatures, covers his chest. And from what I can see, every muscle in his broad chest is outlined. His biceps and forearms are thick, and I spot the veins swirling around, just under his tattooed skin. His wrists are covered in leather bracelets, and silver rings are on almost every finger. His pecs look smooth and damn near perfect. I wish he were bare-chested so I could see if he has a sex pack or not, fuck, I mentally shake my brain, I mean, a six-pack. My fingers tingle with the need to explore his form. He must be at least 6’7. Almost as tall as my brother, who is the tallest man I know.
