The Price of Gold | Fortune's Fool #1

prologue | time heals everything

• [ t i m e   h e a l s   e v e r y t h i n g ] •

♥ louisa ♥

IT'S FUNNY how people say that time heals everything. The belief that the ticking of a mere clock can magically relieve wounds, renew the mind and dissipate moments of pain into nothingness. An idealistic view that throws a halo over the man-made creation, shoving it into the limelight and giving it a crown.

But what people fail to comprehend is that sometimes the ominous ticking of the clock can stop. Events can cause it to freeze, trapping a person in their past and forcing them to relive the bad memories again and again. Slowly, the burden of past events transform a person, impacting their character and true self. So how can it be possible for people to say that time heals everything when time itself can stop?

Exactly a year ago, the ticking of my clock came to a halt and two people were to blame.

One that I stared at every day in the mirror and one that I hoped to never see again.

My eyes bore into the back of Mr Holland's head as he droned on and on about the context of Othello, the book we would be studying this academic year. With tired skin that seemed to sag from his bones and a good seventy percent of his once blonde hair now grey, one would probably feel sympathetic at the sight of a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders. But if one persisted to dig a little deeper, there was always something hidden beneath the seemingly flat surface.

Tapping my long manicured nails against the desk, I glanced at the pile of classical literature stacked upon his desk that he always had his head tucked into.

Moby Dick. Wuthering Heights. To Kill a Mockingbird. The Great Gatsby. One that I didn't recognise with some nude female on the cover.

My lips twitched into a smirk.

Aside from all those books, I'm sure that wasn't the only promiscuous thing going on in his mind. Aside from all those books, I was sure Mr Holland was already preoccupied with that fucked up affair he was having with that 15 year old girl.

I turned my head to the marble tiles on the classroom floor that had been hand-painted with liquid gold designs. When would be the best time for me to let that slip? Perhaps some blackmail alone would give him the push to teach lessons that didn't make me want to choke to death on a bloody diamond. A dainty laugh slipped out of my mouth at my lack of creativity and soon enough I found myself brainstorming more extravagant ways to expose him.

At least it was a good way to pass the time. Time was precious and there was certainly no point in me sitting here passively breathing air.

My eyes glazed over my English Literature class towards the back corner where a petite yet curvy girl sat sprawled over a boy, her skin tight Prada dress inching up her thighs. I held back an eye roll, watching as Lexi momentarily parted lips with the male only to let out a heavy and loud breath to ensure the entire world knew what she was doing.

Attention seeking at its finest.

Alcohol overdose, numerous one night stands, abortions, Lexi Walton done it all - throwing around her dignity as if it were a worthless cloth. Catching even a ray of the same spotlight I and the elites had meant everything to her and she didn't give a care about what she needed to do to get it. The bitch had even begun hanging around with us lately in a bid to claw her way up the social hierarchy. 

I pursed my scarlet lips together as I thought about the real reason why us elites were temporarily allowing her to spend time with us.

It was simple.