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I should have taken a swig of the goddamn moonshine.
I swallowed the thought down and forced myself towatch- towaitas I sought out their weaknesses.
Paul was a weakness - his arrogance - his lack of a goddamn skill set. I fought the urge to pinch the bridge of my nose in frustration because I had another meeting scheduled with him in two days. Not only was it up to me to create a training program for the new batch of members below, but I also had to create the fuck face’s lecture slides on military strategy. It seemed that Mae money was good for purchasing a university degree and not much else, but then it didn’t matter if their leaders lacked the skills because they hadus.
That was the part that ate at me the most - the thing that made me want to rage and scream and pull my fucking hair out. It was the very thing that would get me killed.
I wasteachinghim how to keep us trapped.
Some here may boast various degrees of Stockholm Syndrome, but not me. Perhaps once upon a time, when I was young and dumb, I viewed Sarah Lipson as some sort of savior, but it didn’t take long for The Society to strip me of such illusions, and even in my misguided understanding of that, I had never loved them - had neverlongedfor them. Which made what I did for them that much worse. I couldn’t lie to myself and present the work I did for them as some sort of misguided attempt at righting all the wrongs of the world. Iknewwhat I was -knewwhat they had made me, and, worse still, IknewI would never change - not while they dangled Gemma’s safety in my face regularly.
The answer to this was simple, really - if I truly wanted to halt them in their tracks, I could just eliminate myself. It’s not like I couldn’t do it. But they were so sure in their certainty that I valued my own life aboveanythingelse, that they handed me a gun. Of course, it was under the guise that I was part of their military operations and therefore needed to be armed, but I knew it for what it was - another noose - another test - another mockery.
Self loathing wasn’t the most becoming trait, but I had long since run out of people who may have once given a fuck about my state of mind.
Mia’s knuckles turned white as she pressed herself against the railing, clutching it as if she were restraining herself. Girl usually had her temper under lock and key, and so I offered her the small favor of ignoring the tremor that ran through her body - of not saying anything.
None of us had time to unpack and examine our demons - not if we wanted to survive.
We stood like that for a long time, Holly passing her bottle back and forth between all of us - each time she offered me a swig was simply another time I refused her.
I watched Paul skate across to a girl in a shocking dress - a girl who didn’t fit here - a girl who belonged to The Society less than we did.
I filed away that nugget to examine later.
And when The Society members below had lost themselves in the rowdiness and debauchery of it all, Paul swaggered towards the exit, bidding his boys goodnight. It was then that Holly separated herself from us, offering a small shrug with a smile playing on her lips.
Definitely should have drank the damn moonshine.Because now I would be forced to listen to Paul rail my best friend.
He always came to her room as if he were a goddamn knight in shining armor - a gentleman of sorts, and the walls separating our rooms were paper thin. It wasn’t that I didn’t want Holly to find somethinggood- to experience love and orgasms and all that shit. It was that it was Paul.
I didn’t want Holly for myself - there were a thousand other men that were better suited to her level of crazy joyfulness, but Paul wasn’t one of them - he was playing with her, and that meant she’d get hurt.
CHAPTER SIX: BREAKFASTANDTIFFANY’S
MADILYN
The early morning sun shone through the curtains, creating shapes and patterns on my bedroom floor. It was my favorite kind of sun, for not all sunshine was the same. The early morning sun was warm and soft andglowy. Not thatglowywas a word, but it wasn’t harsh and brutal, and neither was it fading, winking out its goodbye. There was no grand entry, instead, it was gradual, the light eeking in over the horizon until, suddenly, you blinked, and it wasthere.
It seemed a silly thing to be fond of, but the sun, the moon, and the ever-changing sky had been my constants for so long that I looked forward to the quiet of the mornings each day. It also helped that my mother was never awake at this hour - never there to pester and prod - to remind me of my purpose, maybe that was why I likedthissun so much.
Sleeping in my new attire was… odd. It was neither comfortable noruncomfortable, but that didn’t make me miss my normal pajamas any less. The fabric glided over my skin, pressing against all the delicate parts of my body in a way that created a soft, dull,ache. I slid from the bed, sliding on the silk excuse for a gown over my negligee before padding softly into the kitchen. I didn’t know Paul’s habits yet - didn't know his likes and dislikes, but I would make it my mission tolearn. My gaze skated across his door - his verycloseddoor. Was he a late sleeper or was I simply an unseasonably early riser? I couldn’t tell. Still, I worked quietly, dividing the flour and eggs carefully before I soon began to mix the batter. It wasn’t a traditional English breakfast, but pancakes could go a long way in making friendships. I mixed and turned and swayed and hummed, content in my solidarity. Even if I wasn’t humming very loudly. I scanned the kitchen countertops once more, settling on a small empty sliver of marble in the corner.There. I could put a radio of sortsRight there.
An Alexa maybe?
And then I could dance and sing and cook and clean to my heart's content.
Yes. Even if Paul Mae was difficult and stubborn - even if he wasn’t my favorite person, this small level of contentment wasworthit. Is this what my mother meant when she told me that I would find my peace in the world beside Paul? That only he would provide me comfort and luxury.
Because to me, luxury wasn’t the name brand clothes or the perfectly styled apartment - it wasthis.Happiness was luxury.
I dolloped out the batter into the pan,tilting it so that it ran evenly across the surfacebefore flipping it. One down, as many more as the batter would make to go. I plated them one on top of the other, building a beautiful tower, and when there was no more batter left, I dripped syrup over the mound, ensuring that it ran over the edges in an aesthetically pleasing display, before finally decorating with a series of blueberries. Plating was often more important than the food itself - at least that’s what my mother had taught me. It wasn’t that the pancakes weren’t tasty, but your mind did this weird trick where it saw something that not only smelled good butlookedgood, too, and it somehow decided that whatever was being served wassuperiorto food that didn’t look as good. There was a small round table placed just right of the kitchen island, and I set it to perfection. A jug of orange juice, beautiful flower printed serviettes, a newspaper laid outjustright. It was heaven. The vase of flowers I had requested stood behind me, a mixture of yellow carnations, white baby’s breath, and one large sunflower. It was the kind of mix that shouldn’t have looked so good together, and, yet, it wasbeautiful. The silver cutlery glammed next to the china plates, and I exhaled in anticipation. I needed to change. Maybe a dress? Some pearls?
With the decision cemented in my mind, I made to move away from the kitchen when the front door to our apartment opened, and in walked Paul Mae. Staggered was the more appropriate term. I stood there, barefoot and frozen as I took him in. He wore a dress shirt that lay untucked, half unbuttoned. The top button of his trousers remained loose. He looked entirelydisheveled. I swallowed as the truth of what lay between us became apparent. I may have been naive, but I wasn’t stupid - he had someone else. A girlfriend, perhaps?
WasIthe other woman? Did he not want this arrangement - this pairing?
My chest shook, burning with the need toinhale.
