Scorched

40

She's rising. Wake up.

You will never make it. She will win.

Cleo digs her nails hard into her thigh under their exclusive table, again and again, needing these whispers to dissappear. She swirls her near empty wine in her glass and downs it quickly, motioning for Sir Evans next to her to pour her sixth glass already.

He gave her a concerned look with those deep blue eyes but obliged her. She didn't even feel wasted, that was what made it worse. The wine dulled the buzz in her ears only scantily, which is why she needed more and more of it to take it away completely.

She looks up to her people all standing watching her like she was the last bone in front of hundreds of hungry dogs. Her gaze kept running from person to person, repeatedly, she made eye contact with the same face about three times already. Why were there so many people here?  And who wears yellow to a ceremony?

To her right was Sir Evans, to her left was an empty seat to where Landon was supposed to be, but the servant forgot to light the candelabras so he got up to do it himself while the entire crowd watched him, whispering and muttering amongst themselves. Little did they know that this wasn't part of the crowning.

They would first eat before doing the rest; she forgot what the entire process was made of, so she would go with the flow.

Next to Landon's open space was Delilah with her chest spilling out of her tight pink corset dress. She flipped her hair over her shoulder way too many times to count. Cleo knew then that Delilah thought this event was entirely for herself.

After that was Andrew and then Kaleb.

She wipes the sweat that had accumulated over her forehead as soon as the whispers began, before turning her head to the left to see the side of Kaleb's face  who was already searching the crowd, standing at the edge of the table close to them.

Could it be his mother he was looking for? Then looking past him was directly to the open floor-to-ceiling windows and the gardens outside. The sun has begun to seat, setting an orange luminescence in the room, bathing it in gentle light that could make her want to simply nap in it.

She liked her seat. If only Evans and Kaleb could switch. Then she would like it more.

Her thighs, back and arms suddenly begins to burn. The exact burns she had when she slipped out of her bath and hugged the floor. The feeling similar to when she turned fire to smoke. The blood boiling itch that never wanted to go away.

She jerks hard, gripping her high-back chair beneath her thighs and arches her back feeling and hearing the massive crack it made in her spinal column. She tugs her lower lip between her teeth then bites hard, feeling her lip split.

Her scarred hands still feels sensitive against certain material like her dress, but God's. Her damn body.

"Miss?" Evans whispers to her, seeing her body move restlessly against her seat. Crossing and uncrossing her thighs, scratching her arms, even though there was no evidence of anything changing on her skin. The two circles remained there with the engravings on them. Like nothing is happening.

"Shut up Evans." She groans between her teeth forcing herself to sit still knowing that she wanted to nakedly  jump into a thorn bush to scratch and pierce every inch of  her skin.

Where was Crawford? That idiot forced himself through. She made a promise to herself to keep an eye on him. Because she feels that something will happen, and it involves him. Like Ezra said.

Where was that big giant today? Strange he wasn't here. She thought he would be here especially for this day and event. Not that it was his problem to begin with, but after being there for her — she finds it rather absurd that he isn't here to begin with.