"You're going to make me do bad things to you, sweetheart." | Frank Rider is the new teacher. His favourite word is 'detention'. He's iniquitous, rude and vicious. To get on his bad side would be suicide. Unfortunately for Cleo, she's already dived...
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CHAPTER XLIV
The cemetery was a prized possession of a towering white and gold stoned church with windows that glittered like kaleidoscopes upon the sun's harsh gaze and with a marble arch that cost a fortune (raised by fundraisers far too joyful for their own good). It was ironic, for death's burial ground to be placed so close to a place of despair and helplessness; despite the prayers and pleas to statues, idols, gods, death was inevitable, a gloating winner in every game. Hope was a miserable bastard, clung to by foolish ideas and organised religion. I was reminded of myself; a liar who pressed both hands together, mouthing words of worship to a sky that forever remained empty, with a heart that forever remained bitter.
It had been all part of a façade; a character so carefully thought out, a deceit to friends and family, a trick to fool all. I was a mastermind, an incredible manipulator – to even my own mother. The thought brought me down to my knees in misery amongst shining black, granite grey and dull white gravestones, my bare shins hitting wet grass, and I felt emotions similar to a religious worshiper: weakness, an overwhelming sense of failure and shamefulness, powerless at the direction my life had taken.
I stared at the words inscribed on her gravestone, it was surrounded by petal-pink rosebushes planted by Uncle Hektor, a forever loving companion of Mom. His story was cliché; one woman, two brothers hopelessly in love with her, she chose my father, he mourned, married another whilst still harbouring feelings for her.
But this wasn't his story.
I crossed my legs, still clutching an overpriced wreath of pink and white carnations that was adorned with delicate pink ribbons and a banner with 'Mom' in cursive font. I set it down on her resting place and cleared my throat. Silence passed. I didn't know what to say. I suppose I should start with an apology, I, at the very least, owed her that. "I'm sorry," the two words were blurted out and appeared insincere, I threw my head back, gazing up at the stormy night sky, and cursed in frustration. "Ah, fuck. Shit. Sorry, Mom." I threw a glance around at the dead neighbourhood. Bored.
I clasped my hands together in front of me. "Alright. You're dead, Mom. If that came as a shocker, I'm sorry. I should learn to be tactful and considerate of your situation." I paused. "If Eton were here, I'm sure he'd appreciate my humour. But he's not...And I'm here in the rain talking to nobody. But in the hopes I'm wrong about my views of existence ceasing to exist after death...Well, I hope you're listening, Mom. You don't know me. You haven't known me since Eton was locked up. I'm sure you suspected that I played in the games, too. You were right. Eton was first to kill, he showed me his artwork, I created the hunts. It was glorious whilst it lasted. I don't know where my bloodlust stemmed from, but I adored the power that came from the cries and pleas of the dying children. It made me feel good. Alive. For once.
I killed two, Eton killed three, two bodies remain unaccounted for. He was charged with one of my own and two of his. Him being institutionalized terrified the pair of us. The games came to an end. We were reckless children, murdering others at the age of nine and ten, caught at the age of eleven. We didn't know what we were doing. It was a harmless, fun game. Of course," I rolled my eyes, "some part of us knew what we were doing wasn't right but it was addicting. The thrill of it, the chase," I swallowed, reminiscing. "You gotta understand, Mom. You handed us over to au pairs and we learned love from one another, not from our parents, we were neglected, the nannies were unlovable and we had no interest in cuddling up to their bosoms. Zeus disliked us from the very moment of our existence. He's a greedy swine for money and his inheritance was split between the three of us, what would've been a very large sum anyway before it all happened and you sold the business ..." I shook my head, veering off track. "Our older brother cared little for us, away on trips with his friends, and then one day, dad came home. He saw how wretched and desolated we were and he offered to take us to his work.
