Twisted Games

Ⅱ

I was awake at 5 A.M today, my usual time to start my day. I just layed in bed, staring at my ceiling, watching the fan go around in circles above and imagining what it would be like if it just fell and killed me. Would blood splatter all over my rose colored sheets, would my stomach be gutted or would it just crush me ?

My parents would freak, not because I was dead, of course not, simply because that would mean media publicity and with the recents scandals my father has put our family in; meaning he cheated on my mother with his 19 year old assistant; that would be horrendous, as my mother says.

Getting out of my bed proves to be difficult, but I do it anyways because i'd rather spend the day moving back into my dorm than spend another night here. I start my sophomore year of college in less than a week and i'm excited about it if i'm being honest. Getting back into my routine is soothing, it'll calm down all these dreams lately. I've been feeling more manic lately and these lucid dreams aren't helping.

I move to go to my desk, scooting my worn copy of Wuthering Heights to the side and grab my sketchbook. It's filled with drawings of the same boy-he had dirt smudged on his face in this dream, a white button up rolled up to his elbows, his head thrown back in laughter concealing his eyes; i've seen them before, gray mixed with a dull shade of blue. My saint, i've taken to calling him that, has messy brown hair that covers his eyes, he's lean but muscular, tall enough to tower my 5'6 frame, and a smile on his face that radiates hope. He's what I imagine greek gods looked like before the new world.

My mother comes knocking on my door just as I shut my notebook: "Are you ready to head out Cataleya?", my mother asks and i simply nod my head in response. My mother is a cold woman, she never really was affectionate with me, not since that night when i told her everything, she's kept her distance, so has my brother and for that i'm grateful. "Give me twenty minutes and i'll be downstairs." I usually do my makeup in the morning, but i just want to be out of this godforsaken house soon, so i settle for some mascara and lipstick, i'll do more later when Grace and I go to some party.

When I head downstairs i'm surprised to see my father there as well; he'd been staying in the guest house since mother found out about his affair, but i guess for today they decided to be civil with one another. I didn't care much at this point, i wasn't going to whine about my parents never loving each other and how bad it used to get at home, I couldn't deal that with shit anymore i just had to leave it behind me.

At the dorm my parents dropped me off and said their awkward goodbyes, my father giving me a half hug and my from my mother two small kisses on the cheek like she used to give me when i would wake up screaming at the age of 7. The dorm was small and simple, i liked it, it gave me a certain kind of independence and freedom; it was nice not having to look over my shoulder, wondering if my door would open at night and my brother would walk in, shushing me and telling me to stay quiet.

But now was not the time for that, I decided to draw as my mother had interrupted me earlier, my notebook was on my bed already flipped open to a random page. The page was of my saint, he was sitting in a room full of gray pastels and glass windows, his head in his hands tugging at his hair, his gray blue eyes were watery and he seemed so hopeless, it was so weird seeing him that way. He was a light, not the dark. The room was trashed, clothes strewn everywhere, books torn up and discarded on the floors. I felt like a bystander, as if I was seeing something that I shouldn't be. That drawing had been based of a dream of my saint and I had been able to feel his pain through the dream and I wanted nothing more than to be comforting him, giving him the care he so obviously needed.

The knock at my door pulled me out of my daydream, it was Grace at the door; Grace my girl, she was a mystery to everyone, her gray eyes looking at you and seeing your entire being , like she knew you before you knew her. "Cat!! You're not ever ready yet and the party is an hour." She was wearing the shortest skirt she could find and a long sleeve to hide her arms, hiding her shame.  "Ugh I know Gracie, just let me get my makeup up done and you can pick my outfit, i know you love that.", she simply smiled at me with her pouty lips and said "If you didn't like guys, i'd be your girlfriend by now." I giggled at her comment, I admit to messing around with Grace, before we became as close as we were now, I had met her at a bar and took her home, she was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen and we spent a few nights together. It was sweet to be around Grace, she was the sun itself. But she had her own shadows.

The party was loud and full of people I didn't know and didn't care to know, but I had to admit, I looked fucking good. I had put my hair in rollers to give them big waves, a tight red corset with one of Grace's black mini skirts and bold makeup that went with my personality. I had seen a guy here but when I tried pointing him out to Grace she said that there was no one there. Maybe i had been so stressed lately I imagined seeing him;. it made sense, considering he looked exactly like my saint, except his face was molded with concentration. "Grace", I yelled over the loud music, "I'm gonna head to the bathroom!", she nodded her head and continued dancing with some guy.

I inhaled the smoke from my cigarette, it's taste leaving a satisfying burn in my lungs, no one knew I smoked, it would ruin my good girl image. What a joke. I heard a knock at the door but ignored it, they'd eventually figure out someone was in here. The door swung open, "What the fuck Simon?", i yelled at him. He was drunk and looked like an imbecile, "Hi kitty cat, i saw you looking at me earlier, I can see in your eyes you want me to fuck you."

I scoffed at his lewd words, "Fuck off Simon", i tried making my way past him to the door but he slammed it before i could get to it. "Come one let's have a little fun, you'll love it." I'd heard that phrase too many times in my life, I was 19 and had already been taken advantage of more than someone could handle in a lifetime. I was sick and tired of men thinking the could have me, that I was some fucktoy and not a real person. Men were such entitled assholes who couldn't keep their dick to themselves if their life depended on it. I was angry, so fucking angry and fed up with men like Simon thinking they could keep doing this to me and get away with it, i shut my eyes and tried calming myself down and pictured what Simon would look like dead, purple and bloated and gone.

I opened my eyes to find Simon on the floor, his mouth full of blood, he was making these choking sounds and his face was blood red. He reached his hand out to me, his way of signaling me for help, but I didn't help, I just stared at him and didn't know what to think. His breathing got quicker and quicker until it just stopped altogether. "What the fuck", I whispered to myself. What the fuck was I supposed to do with Simon's dead body at my feet, while I was at a very public party.

Kellan's POV:
I had visions of her since I was 15, she was beautiful, my little crow. I know these visions were probably my sanity trying to save itself, but I didn't care, she was my bliss. She was in a  bathroom, music blaring and a man was at her feet, dead. She seemed to be zoned out then snapped back to her senses, her face contorting into panic and fear, tears filled her her eyes and she looked so scared. My little crow, i thought. So beautiful even when she was crying, a goddess weeping. I was pulled out of my vision, waking up with bleary eyes and feeling confused. My visions had never been like this before and now I didn't know if this was still fake or if my crow was real.