Sins of Aiden

1

CHAPTER 1

Splash!

I can merely dream of my day going better than this. The liquid falling in drops from my newfound drenched shirt, crashing to the floor in drizzles and I just want to go home.

"God. I'm so so sorry," the boy exclaims, looking down at me in horror and seeming just as surprised as I am. Fair, both of us didn't see this coming our way. Not when the snickering guy from the closest table to us reached out his leg to tumble the guy over that just soaked the majority of my shirt. Thomas Ford looks like he just won a million-dollar bet as his teeth shine brighter than the sun itself. It looks unnatural but I don't comment on that. In fact, I don't even pay much attention to it considering how much the other boy falls victim to shame. It is practically written all over his face.

"I-I did not mean to—It was just. . . I'm not— I'm so very sorry. . ." Thomas Ford seated by the table barks a laughter that provokes more engagement than it should—totally and utterly finding this situation hilarious. Other people start observing curiously over the scene and I can feel my cheeks grow warm with discomfiture.

I can only do so much to dream of this never happening. That I never stepped foot into the canteen, desperately wanting to devour that disgusting food that's being served every day to keep my mind composed of the horrible day I'd just had. Just for a moment longer none of us would have fallen victim to the jock of Eastwood High School and the look of the boy's face right in front of me tells me the same vision.

Thomas Ford claps his hands in exclamation, "Now, Sam, why in the hell would you spill your drink on an exquisite sight like that? Don't you have any manners?" he taunts the boy and I try not to let his words affect me but fail miserably when I feel myself show even more ruddy than before.

His friends snicker from behind him as Sam develops an appalled gaze addressed to Thomas Ford, mouth gaping open to find the right words. "Hmm? Come on now, Sam!" Thomas snorts, "Don't even know what to say to the poor girl? And don't forget to apologize to me for kicking my leg. . . like what have I ever done to you to deserve this atrocious treatment?"

This is a typical way for Thomas Ford to act. The taunting, never-ending cycle of being a prey to his realm. He picks his targets out like candy bars in stores and I simply want to slink into a hole and never come back up.

I puff out my cheeks.

This is not the first time he has hunted me down to act like a prey he so with heart and soul wants me to be. "It's okay, honesty-" I attempt to respond seeing that I more than ever wish for this to end. But I don't get that far— panic seizes up in my throat and I shut my eyes when a lavish shriek surges to my ears.

It's with this that all h-e-l-l breaks loose.

"What in the name of fucking hell is going on here?"

Sam's green frightening eyes meet mine as his mind spins with indecisiveness as to whether he wants to push up the glasses on his nose to catch a glimpse of what the cause of that sound is or if he should just scramble away. I would go with the second one.

Right on time, Madelyn stomps straight up to us, and with the absolute wrath she has in her eyes that can with no doubt make everyone entangled in this situation crumble to their knees—I wouldn't wish that upon my worst enemy.