SINS OF A KING

5

"So, is it, like, your thing to change cars every day?" I teased with a smile as I sat in the passenger seat of Grace's completely blacked out Mercedes Benz G-Class. In the time that she and I have gotten close, it was painfully obvious that Grace came from wealth, because I have yet to see her use the same car twice, which was strange.

It was something I found hard to wrap my head around—how someone could have the kind of wealth that Grace seemed to possess. Don't get me wrong, she was a wonderful person, but as someone who's empathetic and grounded in reality, I couldn't ignore the stark contrast. I cared deeply about the people who slept on the streets, their beds made of cardboard, and it astounded me that just across the street was someone as young as Grace, who lived in a world where switching between luxury cars was just a part of her daily routine.

"I'll stick to this one, then," she laughed lightly, adjusting her seat belt as I crossed my legs in the passenger seat, and rested my head on the headrest behind me.

I let out a sigh, and so did she, as we drove through the streets of Elandswater. Since I was still new to Elandswater, every time that I was outside, it felt like it was my first time seeing the town, and I couldn't help but take in everything around me. Elandswater felt like a place where two worlds collided, merging the towering skyline of a bustling city with the charm and space of a quieter suburb.

As we drove, the high-rises caught my eye first—tall, sleek buildings of glass and steel that seemed to stretch endlessly toward the sky. They reflected the sunlight and the busy energy of the streets below, where people moved with purpose and cars zipped through the intersections. It reminded me of Johannesburg, with its fast pace and the feeling that something important was always happening just around the corner.

"How long have you lived here?" I asked Grace, taking in the smell of the fancy car. It still had that brand new car smell.

"My whole life," Grace answered. "I can't leave even if I try," she paused and she turned her head to face me for a second, "my family owns Elandswater." She revealed.

"Woah, really?" I asked in shock.

"Yeah. This town's history goes all the way back to the Apartheid years. My great-great grandfather claimed this land and essentially founded the town himself. My great-grandfather expanded it, building on what his father started and improving where he had fallen short. Then my grandfather took it to new heights, bringing in businesses that ensured the town would thrive for years. My father took over after him, and he's kept it going strong for as long as I can remember." She paused, turning her head slightly. "And now, as it often goes, the torch has been passed to my brothers."

The realization that I was speaking to someone whose family had literally built and owned a town struck me, and the weight of it lingered in my thoughts.

I hummed, pausing, "it's beautiful." I said softly, taking in the place.

"I find it nightmarish if you ask me," she turned to look at me as we stopped at the red robot. "The walls are invisible and the only way that I'll ever be able to leave this fucking hell is in a fucking brown polished box with a bouquet of forget-me-nots on the top."

Several thoughts ran through my mind. The first was how familiar this all sounded—yet another person from a wealthy family who spoke about their privilege like it was some kind of curse. The ungrateful attitude of rich kids who never had to worry about what they'd eat for supper, who never faced the harsh reality that their birth mother was a junkie, or the dread of knowing you'd have to work your entire life, even past retirement, just to scrape by.

I'd probably go my whole life without ever coming close to owning a G-Class. In fact, I'd be lucky to afford an Audi A3 at some point, let alone something as extravagant as a G-Wagon. Loans would be my lifeline, and there would be days where I wouldn't eat much simply because I couldn't afford to. I would give almost anything to have a fraction of what she has—to know the privilege, the ease, the luxury. I would do almost anything to have just a fraction of what she has.