Deceiving Destiny

Chapter 2: A Taste of Peril for Little Belle

Chapter 2: A Taste of Peril for Little Belle

After my not so elegant breakdown along one of the busy streets in London- earning a couple of pitiful stares my way- and after being a total loser in front of almost half of the population in school, I was now crouching- like the real failure of a person I am- across one of the bookshelves inside Bromley Central Library.

You might be wondering as to what has gotten inside my head- if I suddenly turned psycho or if my meninges have been inflamed- to do just that but sadly, I'm still sane- I can still feel the pain and treachery seeping in my veins, poisoning every fibre of my being; and that mere fact made me want to puke, to just bawl over and be lost in my own bubble.

Being surrounded by rows and rows of books, its musty scent going through my nares, always made me calm. There's just something comforting about having been confined inside a room full of volumes of old knowledge; the phantom of the wordsmiths who wrought those books to life seeming to watch over the lucky souls who had the chance of skimming through its pages. And ever since then, the library became my sole sanctuary- where I've got to strip my psyche bare.

My little pity party was cut off rather rudely by the nasal squealing of two teenage girls, who happened to pass by the row I'm in, busy ogling the cute bibliothec at the counter. The prettier of the two- looking as dainty as ever with her floral dress and sun-kissed skin- briefly glanced my way, probably wondering what the hell I was doing there, and what she did next almost threw me off track: she flipped me off.

How can a person's physical appearance screen us from seeing what was really there was beyond me.

We kind of had a minor stare contest- with me watching her curiously and she glaring at me, like my mere existence disgust the hell out of her- and as the temperature in the room skyrocketed, I hastily averted my gaze.

It's not a big deal, really. Wherever I go, whatever I do, no matter how insignificant and inconspicious I let myself become, people still hate me- their hostile stare following my every move, reminding me of how worthless I am (not that I needed any reminder since I've already figured it out a long time ago). And just like always, I retire in my little asylum.

I carefully held myself up- my gastrocnemius screaming in protest from the amount of time shed in crouching- straigthened out the wrinkles that formed in my faded jeans and sauntered towards the exit, passing by the glaring girl and her friend, even passing by the guy at the counter who gave me a friendly wave.

I then pushed open the glass-paneled doors of the library and let myself out. The soft ping of glass against glass reverberating in the backdrop, signifying the closure of the door- the blockage to my freedom.

The spectral colour of the horizon, with the scorching heat and humidity being emitted by the sun, immediately filled my line of view; the vividness of carriages and people walking here and there blurred my vision for just a moment- the way the hue seemed to create a startling stairway of twinkling galaxies enthralled me.

Bending my head in a subservient manner, my black ringlets effectively shielding my face from the harsh glare of the sun, I slowly weaved my way through the throngs of busybodied people lining the streets.

I never knew that walking amongst such rowdy crowd would bring me such challenge. My skin getting stickier every minute that passed, my breathing labored. I stumbled a couple of times as some people managed to push passed me, the warmth of their bodies clinging to mine like a shadow of a long forgotten entity.

Just like the good souls who turned not so sane in fairytales, I did something that will surely make my mother's eyes bulged forward and the plastered smile on my father's lips to completely vanish: I laughed like a wailing hyena at the center of a busy street in London.

So much for being sane I guess.

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I definitely lost track of time as I unhurriedly strolled around town and before I knew it, it was already fifteen minutes to four- few minutes before my classes end.

My mood has definitely improved- the memory of Nate's rejection, his refusal to believe any word I'd said, still caused a sickening feeling inside of me; one that has grown dull and irksome over the course of time- one that I can certainly live with, and like any other atrocious things that had happened in my life, one that I can conceal in my own 'Pandora's Box'.

You can call me a coward or any fallible things you could think of but nothing will change; I'll still be that nonstarter whom everyone seems to love picking on, that nonstarter who'd rather keep up with whatever shit everyone's throwing her way instead of standing up for herself. I have long ago stamped out any idea of ever rekindling my old self- being this obtuse and namby-pamby individual better suits me after all.

Taking my time walking leisurely at the streets, my feet leading me back to the one place that has wracked me up for good- the one place that if ever I've gotten the chance of escaping from I would have gladly do so with both feet fighting to overstep each other- I wordlessly munched on my burritos while watching the once blue sky turned crimson red.

I've checked my mobile phone a couple of times, wondering if someone even care about my sudden disappearance, but no one did- not that I let my hopes up, I'm just curious.

The familiar cinnamon scent rolling off in the air brought me back to my senses, a wry smile tugging at my lips as Mr. Dawson, the owner of the bakehouse that creates the 'World's Yummiest Cinnamon Rolls Ever'- in my opinion any way- tipped his chapeau at me as a sign of greeting. His cinnamon rolls are one of the few reasons that makes living in this subdivision somewhat manageable.

I then continued treading the pavement towards my house begrudgingly, my sneakers making this squeak squeak sound every time I took a step- each squeak in sync with the lub dub of my heart, reflecting the familiar inquietude dispersing through my vessels.

The sense of abandonment and desolation told me that I was nearing my destination long before the cerise paint gracing the roof of our house- a startling contrast with the grey coating colouring the rest of it- came into view.

I've read a couple of books stating that if you ever had a rough day, holing up inside your house would wash off- maybe not all of the unfavourable things that has ocurred but- the majority of lingering vexations. Looking back to the two-storey structure standing before me, I wasn't so sure if that's true or if my family was just that ruined that normalcy isn't something you can lightly associate with us.

Heaving out a sigh, I infixed the bronze key into the keyhole and the sight of black tousled hair paired with the darkest eyes I've ever seen stopped me on my tracks.

My heart rate went up a couple of notch just by staring straight through those orbs; his eyes blazing with something close to mischief- the way his full lips curved in a lazy smile triggered the warning bells inside my head, the sound being made by the chime resounding ingeminate admonitions.

Keep out. Trouble. Dangerous. Calamitous.

When his voice- rich and husky- broke the thick atmosphere that surrounded us, I knew right then and there that it's too late to run; I'd have no place to escape to, he had me at his clutches. "Why don't you give me a kiss Maddie? A hot make out session as a welcoming gift."

I couldn't explain what his words did to me- my mouth suddenly went dry and I'm sweating like a dog. I feel nauseous, my surrounding spinning like crazy, and my stomach doing some wild somersault. Before my vision turned even dimmer, I managed to croak one word out-one word that would change my whole life forever- "Blake."

Sorry if it took me forever to update. School's being a bitch so as my laziness. Hope you enjoy the chapter. This is just the beginning.

xoxo Nikki