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Carry the weight of the crown and the castle will crumble.
That was what Lizzie thought as the intricate silver piece was placed on her head. The tiny shards of glass felt heavier than bricks. Weeks ago she had seen the encrusted headpiece and grinned. She had been excited—expecting it really. A title she would dawn with grace and glee as she stood on stage with the music blasting through speakers on either side.
Now, she looked over the sea of students clapping and cheering, and heard the hollow echo that laid beneath it. Underneath the facade of beauty she saw each cruelty displayed in front of her. Even with their smiles, she could spot each fracture that painted the girls’ faces. And she could watch the shaky glances as the boys’ glared at her.
She kept her shoulders back as the flowers were laid in her palms. In her mind, she watched those petals wilt under her touch—abetting was as terrible a crime.
Beside her, the floor dipped, bounced with each gleeful thump of Sam’s feet. The crown laid on his head as he grinned sharp-toothed over their audience.
“Your Prom King and Queen!” The announcer spoke in his ugly microphone.
Lizzie grimaced, but the curl of her lip only strengthened her smile.
The music blared louder, students retreating back to awkward conversations and dancing. Those braver souls encouraged each other as they enjoyed the slivers of entertainment they could manage. It helped that Taurtis was so adamant about the dance floor. Sam couldn’t say no to him, and no other student would ruin that.
She felt arms wrap around her bare shoulders and she wished her jacket had not been left at her table.
“Who would’a thought!” Sam chuckled, “It was a close race!”
“Really?” Lizzie rolled her eyes, “I had no idea.” She gripped the bouquet of flowers in one hand and slapped them into Sam’s chest. Petals flying out and wrinkling, it showered him in red, pink and white that had bile rising in Lizzie’s throat.
Sam gaped, scoffing as the flowers were shoved into his chest. His brow wrinkled in a satisfying way, and Lizzie found herself smiling.
“Thought you could use a little color.” She hummed, “You look so good in red after all.”
She peeled out a red poppy from the bouquet, thumbing the tiny leaves. She ignored Sam as he opened his mouth to snap back at her. Instead, she turned in her heels and sauntered off the stage.
The cafeteria had been turned upside down for the night’s events. Balloons, in a variety of colors, had been tied to the pillars punctuating the streamers that hung from each wall. Cut out paper decorations had been taped to the walls. The white lights bounced off the walls cutting deeper into the floor, sparkling with each littered piece of confetti.
The center of the auditorium had been converted into the bare dance floor. Few students gathered around the checkered cardboard, huddling together in quiet bodies. Heels clicked against the tiles, echoing against the music that filled the room as a substitute for excitement.
Lizzie could spot Taurtis, his dark blue jacket left behind. He grinned at the other students as he stole away the dancefloor once again. His thumbs pressed against the back of his suspenders, before spinning on the backs of his loafers. He was unbothered by the apparent loss of Prom King. Being up against Sam was an impossible task, but Lizzie had hoped, during the last few weeks, that Salex and he would beat them.
Salex, herself stayed to the edges of the dance floor, clapping along. She had always been quiet, Lizzie worried she knew all too well why now. But there, her smile stretched across her cheeks and her hips swayed with the music. Her dark blue dress flowed out each side, sparkling each time the light hit.
In the back of her mind, Lizzie reminded herself to say hello before the night was over. She dodged the dancefloor, shrugging through the still crowd of students. In the corner of her eyes she could make out Dom and J staking out near the restrooms. Dom’s fingers wrapped around a red cup, while J hid behind a small notebook. Dom’s cheeks were just barely tinted, and Lizzie wondered where he’d managed to find it.
She fiddled with the poppy in her fingers for a moment longer, making her way to the very back of the lunch room. She was set on finding someone.
The very back wall was lined with tables. Each piled high with food and punch bowls. A few students had filled their plates and scattered to the few white tables to hide. She was sure, however, that who she looked to find wouldn’t stray far away from the nearest exit though.
She breezed by the punch bowl, slipping past a trio of students. She came across them just as Ellen left. Their purple suit matched the fabric they used to cover their eye for the night. Their hair pulled tight out of their face. Still, Ellen disappeared back into the crowd leaving the shorter at the table.
He was shorter up close. The tiniest remnants of baby fat clinging to his cheeks. He squinted his eyes, constantly, and Lizzie wondered if he could see through the mop of blond hair. His bangs reached past his eyebrows, covering some of his eyes.
Red must have been his favorite color—or maybe it was all he had. His suit hung off his frame. The tips of his fingers barely breached the bright red sleeves of his jacket. His pants had been rolled up multiple times, revealing broken sneakers and dirty white socks. His was thinner than she had thought, too, even buttoned his jacket could slip off him. The collar of his white button down looped around his neck loosely, tightened only by the messily tied bow.
His hands were currently filled with bread rolls, as he stuffed his mouth.
“Hi.” Lizzie greeted, kindly. She waited as he finished stuffing his mouth with the last crumb of bread as he startled.
The boy blinked, his shoulders tightened, “Uh—Hi!”
His mouth quivered as if he was going to speak more, but he quickly shut it. His hand stuck out, fingers spread widely apart, before he retreated again. He brushed his hand against his pant leg, mumbling to himself.
“Enjoying the snack bar?” She asked, humming. She turned to face the table, pretending to ignore the boy’s mishap. She could tell he was younger than her or Sam, she just wondered how much.
“Uh—yeah.” He muttered.
“Best get it while it’s free, hm?”
He chuckled, “Yeah.”
She could tell he was nervous. She imagined she was quite the sight compared to him. Weeks of preparation and anxious decisions led her to where she was. She had let her natural hair color come back for the occasion, leaving streaks of light pink to highlight the curls. The half of her hair still tied into a bun was held back by a white ribbon.
And while her companion’s suit seemed to fall off his shoulders with each movement, her own dress was perfect. The short crop of the skirt hanging just at the edges of her ankles. Pink tulle billowing out of the skirt to match butterfly patterns trailing from her left hip. Her shoulders were protected by fluffy pink lace—she still wished for her sweater.
“I’ve seen you around sometimes.” Lizzie added, picking up the plastic plate. She sparsely filled her plate, speaking, “You’re one of Sam’s new friends.”
He nodded, silently.
“What do you think of him?”
“He’s–” The boy looked behind him, before shrugging, “He’s okay.”
Lizzie nodded, “Yeah, you must be new then. What classes are you taking?”
The boy startled again, eyes darting back and forth to Lizzie. “Um—the normal ones.”
Lizzie nodded, easily, “Yeah? You must like Miss Meri, then?”
“Sorry?” He muttered, confused, before shaking his head. “Who?”
“She teaches the Normal Class.” Lizzie hummed out.
“Oh, yeah! Of course I do!”
“Really?”
“You know I’m lying, don’t you?” He sighed.
“Very much so.” She smiled, “Want to tell the truth?” When he was silent for another moment, Lizzie continued, “You don’t actually go here, do you?”
He shook his head.
“Sam drag you here?” She asked.
“Friend’s go to prom together.” The boy said, flatly. The words sounded rehearsed, even while he muttered them through chewing.
Lizzie sighed, before plastering a smile, “I haven’t introduced myself properly. My name’s Lizzie—” She stuck out her hand for the other, whose eyes widened at the name–or at the hand swinging past she couldn’t tell. “I’m a friend of Sam’s.”
“You’re his girlfriend—you’re the prom queen! I–I’m really sorry. I can leave—I didn’t mean…” He rambled off, gesturing behind himself. He dropped the breadroll back to the tray, stumbling backwards.
Lizzie cut him off, “Why are you sorry? What’s wrong?”
He swallowed, folding his hands together. His eyes trailed to the floor, paying close attention to his shoes, “I’m not supposed to bother Sam.”
She frowned, huffing, “Well, you certainly aren’t bothering me. I came up to you after all.”
“But you’re the prom queen.” He spoke, softly. His voice was laced with confusion and fear. He met Lizzie’s eyes for only a second before continuing, “Sam said that’s royalty! And–And he’s the king. So you’ve got like important stuff to do. You’re the queen and he’s the king! It’s a big deal.”
“It's a silly title that no one will care about by the end of the night.” Lizzie shrugged. She could feel her younger self scoffing at her, calling her a liar. Weeks ago this was all she could dream off. A perfect night filled with balloons, dancing, dresses and crowns. It meant something. Or at least, it had.
“Still…” He whispered, “Why are you talking to me?”
Lizzie bit the inside of her cheek. She rolled the poppy stem between her fingers, idly, “I haven’t been completely honest.” He tilted his head to the side, waiting. Lizzie sighed, leaning against the table to watch the rest of the party. She couldn’t face the kid while she spoke. She couldn’t watch his face fall, or see the hurt crack in his eyes. She didn’t want to see the pain and have it be associated with her, “You’ve—you and Sam…how long have you been hanging around him?”
He shrugged, “A bit. Why?” As the silence stretched on for a moment longer, he spoke again, “Months ago—he and Taurtis walked by my all—house. He wanted me to share my snack, but I didn’t want to.”
Lizzie nodded, “I’ve seen you around the school these past couple of months. You follow him around. And if you’re not with him, you’re with Taurtis. Don’t you—” She racked her brain for the nicest way to say it, “Don’t you think you spend a little too much time with them?”
His shoulder’s tensed, “He’s my friend.” The boy snapped.
“Friends shouldn’t treat you like that.” Lizzie grimaced, her grip on the flower’s stem tightening.
She had seen it with her own eyes.
She had been walking out of the library with Salex at the time. Their weekly trip together to the school library was something she looked forward to. Salex gave her the best recommendations, and always had some gossip to tell. The two had shared their latest reads, before Salex’s smile fell.
Lizzie followed her friend’s gaze, a shaky smile joining her when she saw Sam and Taurtis across the lunchroom. She wondered, at the time, why Salex had grown pale. That had been before she heard the sound of someone falling.
She had looked up just in time to see it—Sam shoving someone to the ground. The bunny-hatted boy sent a swift kick into the other’s gut before leaving his boot pressed against his chest.
Her books had been forgotten as she covered her own gasp. And yet, the crash of hardbacks slamming against tiles did nothing to sway Sam’s attack. He continued to curse out the younger, spitting words in their face as they squirmed on the ground. Pale fingers trying desperately to pry his foot away from their chest as it inched closer and closer to their throat.
The kid had looked so tiny then. He was a scrappy looking thing, Lizzie remembered. Torn shirt that was littered with stains to match the baggy black shorts. He still wore the same broken sneakers and ripped socks he did then. His hair was thicker back then, and Lizzie thought he must have cut it sometime between.
She still wondered now, why she didn’t move to push Sam off the kid. She hated how she brushed it off, even as Salex asked if they should step in. She remembered exactly what she had said, it haunted her every night afterwards.
“He probably deserved it.”
It was a pitiful excuse then, even worse now. Even after seeing it happen over and over again, she repeated the phrase to herself as a comfort. When she saw Sam punch the kid during gym. When she saw the three walking down the street, before Sam tripped him. When she heard the taunts and snides made his way.
And each time, the phrase lost a little more meaning.
“I’ve seen,” She started up once again, “what he’s been doing to you. And you know, right?” She paused, “You know it’s not right?”
“Sam’s my friend.” It sounded rehearsed. Muttered under his breath as he dug the tips of his sneakers into the ground.
“Friend’s don’t do–” She seethed, “that. Friends are nice. They’re kind. They don’t push or shove. They shouldn’t shout at you or hurt you the way he has.”
The other boy was silent, “You’re friends with him.”
Lizzie sighed, “I am—I was.” She corrected, “I didn’t know he treated—I was blind to what he’d been doing. I ignored it. It was wrong of me to do that. When we—when we started I thought I knew Sam. Everyone acted like he was a star of some kind–they truly did treat him as royalty. But ruling from fear and ruling from love are two different things, if you look the wrong way you can confuse the two.”
“You’re very smart.” The boy pointed out.
Lizzie huffed, rolling her eyes, “Not too smart. I haven’t asked for your name.”
He blinked, confusion crossing his face. He frowned, looking at his hands as if he was trying to read his own palm. “It’s uh—Grian?”
“You don’t sound very sure.” Lizzie chuckled, “How old are you anyway?”
Again, he stared at his hands, this time counting on his fingers. He mumbled under his breath so quietly Lizzie couldn’t make out a word. Until finally he spoke up again, “Fourteen? Fifteen? I don’t remember very well.”
Her eyes widened as she looked over the younger again. He was older than she had expected. His slim frame looked nothing like the bulky fifteen year olds she’d run across during gym. The baby fat helped with the gaunt cheeks, but the bags underneath his eyes gave away his exhaustion.
She had wondered, earlier that week, if Sam had truly pulled a child off the street to play with. A child would have been naive enough to believe Sam’s giggles and smiles, then again she had fallen for them as well. She had assumed that by talking to the kid, she could push him back towards the direction of his family and be on her way.
A closer look at that, and she realized that Sam was much smarter than she had thought.
“Taurtis really likes it up there.” Grian said when she had been quiet for too long. He was watching the older boy gather cheers and claps from the small crowd. Sam was even off in the corner, happily tapping his foot.
“It’s what he lives for.” Lizzie hummed, “Sam takes the spotlight during school hours. But here—this is all him.” She shrugged, “‘least until Sam gets bored.”
“Does Sam scare you?”
“What?” Lizzie asked, the question startling her. She looked over, finding Grian watching Sam intently. His hands tightly bound behind his back, twisting his fingers in knots. He didn’t say anything more, eyes flicking around the room. Lizzie’s mouth formed a thin line, “He scares you?”
“He’s the best thing that’s happened to me.” Grian retorted quickly. He turned away from the crowd, pressing his palms against the white cloth. He glared at the punch bowl, “He gave me food. He gave me blankets. He gave me clothes—” He jumped back from the table, gesturing to the oversized suit he wore. “He gave me fun.”
His shoulders shrank. Black pupils staring back at her through his eyelids, “I didn’t want to be his friend, but he did it anyway—its not very fair if I’m not his friend, is it?”
“Fair has a funny meaning to Sam.” Lizzie spoke softly, “I wouldn’t think too hard about it. But, you have to admit Sam hasn’t been the greatest friend. I mean think about your other friends.”
“I don’t have any other friends.” Grian whispered.
Lizzie’s heart dropped at the tone, her fingers tapping along the edge of her dress. Her words came out before she could even think, “I’m your friend.”
He scoffed at her, “Yeah, right! I can’t be friends with a Queen!”
Lizzie hummed, the poppy in her hand twisting around until the stem pointed at the blond. “I think you’ll find you already are.”
She tucked the flower into the boy’s hair just above his ear. She grinned to herself, as the color of his suit matched the tint of the petals. His brow furrowed, pinched between his eyebrows as he watched her from the corners of his eyes.
That had been the moment Lizzie made up her mind. She had pulled her hand away after pressing the flower in his hair. The perfect time to see the tiniest smile that slowly itched its way over his lips. The curve of his cheeks as the smile stretched over.
Later, she knew that was the moment she had decided to break it off with Sam.
For weeks, she had mulled over the thought in her bed. She had thought talking to Sam would fix the gaping hole in her chest whenever she saw him. She had assumed spotting Sam beating the boy across the lunchroom had been a fluke. She had wanted that to be the truth so terribly she had almost missed the cheekiest smile.
She laughed then, as the boy stared back at her confused.
How she thought someone could deserve it made her sick to her stomach.
And while the guilt of that thought weighed on her, she couldn’t bring herself to excuse the ignorance she had chosen. She wanted Grian to be mad at her. She wanted this kid to yell at her for watching it happen and allowing it–for excusing it.
But she couldn’t watch that smile fall—she wouldn’t let herself see that smile leave those cheeks.
Over his shoulder, she could see Sam and Taurtis leaving the auditorium. Sam had his arm wrapped around Taurtis’ shoulder, both laughing at some terrible joke. Neither of them seemed to realize the absence of the third they had invited. Instead, they jauntily wandered off, ignoring the rest of the party.
Her shoulders fell for only a moment. The two idiots had left not only their dates, but the kid they had dragged along for entertainment in the first place.
She sighed, her smile plastered back on before Grian could even notice.
“Would you like to dance?” She asked, holding out her hand for the other.
He stared at her palm before looking back up at her, “I—what?”
“Would you like to dance?” She reiterated, kindly, “I’m not usually one for dancing, but as Prom Queen, I am expected to do at least one.”
He blinked, his hand raised above her own. His brow pinched, focusing on her fingers. His own hand flinched away, “But—but that’s supposed to be for Sam. Right? You’re supposed to dance with him. I’m—I’m not even supposed to talk to you.”
Internally, she wanted to strangle the bunny hatted boy. He thought he could control who she talked to. It disgusted her.
However, she only shrugged, “Technically, it can be with whoever I want.” Then she continued, “And Sam doesn’t dictate what I do. So believe me when I say, you're with me.” She gestured to herself, “we can do whatever we want.”
Grian let out a breathy chuckle, the pads of his fingers just barely meeting her palm. “I don’t know how to dance.”
“Just follow my lead.” She hummed, taking his hand firmly but kindly. Her thumb was a constant pressure over the back of his hand. She led him through the tables, rounding the white circles decorated in colorful balloons. She could feel J and Dom’s stares as she led the smaller through the maze of decorations back to the dance floor.
Grian’s head darted back and forth as they moved, his eyes constantly searching. He spotted Ellen at one point, offering a small wave as the other looked back in confusion.
Lizzie gently pulled him along until they reached the circle around the dance floor. With Taurtis gone the floor was cold and desolate, students whispering and surrounding the open space awkwardly. Even Salex swayed back and forth, her blue dress collecting dust with the rest of the girls.
Salex spotted them as they entered the ring of students, she waved. Her grin splitting across her face, “Lizzie! You look amazing!”
Lizzie smiled, bowing her head, “Thank you. You look beautiful, Salex. I’m surprised Taurtis hasn’t gotten one dance down with you. If by the end of the night you’re still standing here, I’m expecting my own.”
Salex giggled, although there was a sadness that weighed it. She looked over Lizzie’s shoulder spotting the younger boy, looking around the room as if he’d somehow landed in space.
“Grian?” Salex asked, quietly.
Grian snapped his head around, before letting out a quiet breath, “Oh, hi.”
Salex frowned, “What—What are you doing here?”
“Sam.” He pointed off in a random direction.
“Oh.” Salex sighed.
Lizzie frowned, before lightening up, “We were just about to have our dance.”
Salex blinked, “But don’t you need Sa–”
“We’ll be fine.” Lizzie cut her off. Salex stared back at her confused, a silent question on her lips. Lizzie ignored it, she didn’t have time to explain to Salex her sudden change of heart. She had seen for months—years almost—how Salex and everyone had watched Sam. And she had done nothing. “You know the song I had wanted, right?”
“Of course.”
“Could you get them to play it?” She asked, already guiding Grian past Salex. The other girl nodded, walking off but not without a second glance behind her.
Grian frowned, “I really think you should do this with Sam. He’ll be really mad if he sees.”
“I’ll deal with it.” Lizzie waved it off, “A boy like Sam can get a dance with any girl he wants.”
“He wanted you, though.”
Lizzie felt that evil butterfly flutter in her stomach at the thought of someone wanting her. If she could catch that butterfly she would’ve stomped it dead weeks ago, but still the thought of dancing with her future partner sent her grinning. No matter how much that future partner may deserve a knife to the chest.
“But a girl like me doesn’t bow to Sam.” Lizzie hummed. The ring of students had dissipated. Without Taurtis the facade had been peeled away like the skin of a wound. Girls lined the edges of the dance floor with their partners close by, watching the flickering colored lights. Their shadows taking over the floor, swirling and spinning in choreographed spirals, they didn’t dare step into the cacophony.
Lizzie had half the mind to stop before she entered the sacred area, the toes of her boots barely inching over the threshold. She allowed the student body those simple moments of freedom, even if only their shadows felt free enough to escape from their bodies. She took a breath, stepping into the open space.
She felt the moment every student tugged their shadows back, carefully cradling the black smoke to their chests. She wished to be able to throw away the few years of torture she had been complicit in. Her only saving grace, the boy in red in front of her still waiting at the precipice of the crowd.
She turned on her bootheels to face him, holding out her palm. He stared back at her, those grey eyes flickering around the room in scared spurts of adrenaline. She could hear the shutters of gasps from those closest to her. There were tiny whispers passed along the rows of students.
Grian frowned, his fingers twisting together before that long sleeve extended out to her hand. He rested his palm on her own and she pulled him out of the crowd. She led him to the center, looking over to the carefully decorated stage.
A single rule lifted for the night. If Sam wanted music he would get it. A band sat atop the stage, their instruments dusty from disuse. Salex stood to the side of the shoddy band, whispering to the poor soul that had been dragged to lead them. Lizzie pitied the boy, knowing that a single note could lead to the sharpened end of Sam’s knife.
The boy nodded as Salex finished. He walked back to his position at the front of the band. He cast a careful glance to Lizzie for confirmation, eyes widening at the sight of the blond next to her. Still, he swallowed and followed along with her nod.
The music began and it wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t even good, but she told herself it never would have been. She just focused on what she wanted to remember. The plan she had made for herself for that very moment. She tried to remember what she would've done had her hand been in Sam’s after all.
Late nights in her bed planning each footstep. Once to the left, then to the right, a small spin, she listed the steps off. And each time her fingers never left the bony hand they had attached to. Those nights were spent imagining how she would dazzle her friends, the sparkles of her dress leaving shiny imprints along the auditorium floor. She thought of them like little stars falling across the night sky, but now she would look at them as the scars of a night milked in her own blood.
Grian tripped over his own feet. His broken shoes peeling off the tiles with each step. His grip was almost as tight as Sam’s, only much less constricting and more like he was trying desperately to hold on. She had to duck under his arm to twirl her dress, his thin frame standing on his toes to reach above her.
At one point his fingers did slip, leaving her hand and stranding him out in the center of the floor. His eyes widened then, those hands twisting into the thin lining of his jacket as he stared at every student that watched him. Lizzie could see as he tried to pull every face from the crowd into his mind for memory. And she could see as each student got the chance to fully see the tiny thing that had infiltrated their school like a parasite Sam had latched onto.
Good, she thought, that was what she wanted.
She didn’t want this boy to become some forgotten sideshow piece that Sam toted around for a week before growing bored. She wanted more for him. More than she could give or ever have herself.
And to prove it, she did the last thing on her list for the night. Checking off each box next to the steps she only had one left. She took three steps back from him, watching as those wide eyes stared back at her.
She gathered her pink skirt in her hands, her foot slinking behind her other leg.
And she bowed.
Her knees cracked with the force, bending until she felt the floor brush the skin of her shin. As she did, she could hear the various whispers and gasps that brushed over the crowd. Her head tilted down, she could still see as Grian stared back at her in shock.
And to his credit, she had not expected her peers to follow suit.
But there she bowed, and watched as a handful of boys and girls did the same.
For if the Queen bowed to one, then they all followed.
It was the hand that wrapped around her wrist that yanked her up. Her boots scuffed the ground as Sam pulled her to her feet. His eyes were a fiery red matching the color that dusted his cheeks. She could see his jaw locked tight and the steam that breached his ears.
Just behind him she could see the funnel of students he had shoved past. Tuartis standing in the middle of the broken pathway, rocking on his feet. The students darted their eyes between Lizzie and Sam, shuttered breaths wracking their frames.
“What the hell are you doing?” Sam snapped, holding her wrist above her head in a vice grip.
“Dancing.” Her lips pursed in a tight smile. His eyes flickered between her and Grian behind her. He shook his head.
“No—no this is wrong. You did it wrong—I’m Prom King.” He seethed, jabbing a finger into his chest right over the red tie. The bronze crown glinted above his curled hair. It sat where those damned two rabbit ears normally laid, pointing up into the air like little horns. He stomped his foot down, thumping it against tiles, “You’re supposed to dance with me. This is wrong! You have to do it right. Do it again—”
“I am not dancing with you.” She seethed out, snapping her wrist out of his hand. She could almost feel the petals of her corsage wilting as she spoke. They fell to the ground in her wake, painting the floor.
“Have you lost your mind? You’re supposed to dance with me, not some street rat!” Sam bellowed out, his fingers flexing at his sides searching for something to grab hold of. He stormed over to the blond, brushing past Lizzie in a huff, “Are you that much of a stupid orphan? I thought I told you to leave her alone! You weren’t even supposed to be this close to anyone. I gave you the chance to have fun! To be a normal kid for once in your pathetic life and you go and backstab me? No wonder you siblings are nothing more than—”
“Sam!” Lizzie screamed over his scathing words. She could see how he bared over the boy, spitting in his face as each insult shrunk him further. Grian stared up at him with two blank eyes that flickered between his mouth and his hands, watching and waiting…
The white suited boy glared over his shoulder at her, straightening his back. Lizzie could see wear his fingers had attached to the fabric of the boy’s long sleeves, keeping him still.
“That’s enough.” Lizzie scolded, bunching her skirt in her hands she clicked her heels against the tiles as she stormed over. “Let him go.”
Sam frowned, his grip loosening enough for Grian to struggle out of his fingers. She could see as Salex and Ellen pulled him out of the open circle. Ellen was quick to block the path between where Salex brushed Grian’s suit off and Sam.
“You have to do it right. I’m prom king—” Sam demanded, he pointed a finger to the red sash that laid across his chest where the colored words were written. Taurtis tried to break through the crowd to get closer, but he was shoved back as other students watched on in glee.
“I don’t give a flying fuck if your prom king!”
“ –Stop it! Stop doing that! You have to do it right.” He shouted, his foot thumping on the ground. Lizzie stopped herself from digging her heels into the toes of his loafers to stop that godforsaken noise. She heard it everyday, a constant thump in her ears, telling her the thin line they walked with Sam was breaking down. It was funny at times, how much he resembled the two rabbit ears that perched on his head. Sam shook his head, flinging himself around to face the stage, “Play the music!”
The band flinched in their seats. The poor student at the front, spinning around, his hands already raised in preparation to begin the music for a second time. The students with trumpets and flutes gasping for air. While the students raised their bows and fingers above the strings and keys.
The sharp sound of the shoddy band nearly began before Lizzie’s voice cut through once more, “Do not play that music!”
The band stuttered to a stop once more, eyes darting between their two rulers. Sam stomped his foot down, barking out, “What are you doing? You have to listen to me. I want to do it again. I want to do the dance.”
Lizzie sneered, her lip revealing sharp canines, “Then you should’ve been here instead of gallivanting off with your best friend, doing who knows what.”
She knew she had touched a nerve when she saw both Taurtis and Sam flinch at once. Sam screamed behind his gritted teeth, “That’s none of your business!”
“I will not dance with you.” Lizzie declared a second time. Her arms crossed over the pink tulle of her dress.
“Play the music!” Sam demanded, moving to grab her wrist once again. She flinched away, their skin barely brushing past each other as her heels clicked against the tiles.
She seethed under her breath, bringing a long nail up to his nose. A single step forward, brought him stumbling back, “You’re a liar. You had me wrapped up in this little lie that everything was perfect, telling me that we could do whatever we wanted. You said we could rule this school and I thought I knew what you meant. But I see it—I see it—you’re a sad little pathetic boy who just plays with the people around him like toys before he throws them to the curb. I’ve seen how you treat him.” She snapped, pointing her nail back to where Ellen and Salex hid Grian.
“I’ve seen how you treat everyone, so you know what Sam, I’m going to throw you out.” She grinned, the spark growing in her eyes once more, “I will not dance with anyone who dares lay a hand on another person in the way you have to that kid.”
“Shut up!”
The punch came as a surprise to her. She hadn’t ever felt the crushing weight of skin against skin along the bridge of her nose. But in that moment she could feel every knuckle of Sam’s hand as it punctured the cartilage of her nose and the edge of her lip. It snapped her head back, sending her backwards as Sam stared at her with glee in his eyes. Even after his hand left her skin she could still feel the ghost of warmth caressing her face, before the pain fluttered in waves.
The gasp that wracked the crowd must have made Sam grin, because the moment her eyes met his, he was watching the crowd's reaction. His eyes darted between each character and gauged their reaction as he lifted his fist for a second punch.
She could see where Taurtis was staring wide-eyed between two students, trying his best to break through the barrier. He was shouting something at Sam, something she couldn’t hear over the ringing in her ears or the sounds of the students' voices.
Something slipped down from her nose, flowing over her lips and down to her chin. She could see it as it pooled underneath her. The red river ran from her nose in clots, while fainter pink drooled from a split lip. She sneered, her teeth barely painted in the color, mixing with her lipstick.
She sighed, raising herself. Sam watched her with excitement, the balls of his feet bouncing as he waited for her own punch to be thrown. Instead, she lifted a single hand wiping the clots of blood onto her fingers. She stared at the red that now coated her hand, before she smeared it over Sam’s own white suit.
Sam shrieked, as the blood stained against his pristine suit. Lizzie giggled to herself, grabbing his tie and tugging him closer. She glowered at him nearly a centimeter from her face, she breathed out, “I always said you looked good in red.”
She coated the last of her blood over his nose.
Sam squealed, shoving her back as he struggled to get the blood off his clothes and his face. Lizzie smiled to herself, watching as he cringed at the substance.
“Oh! We are done!” Sam screeched, flailing his hands down.
Lizzie scoffed, “As if you had any say in that!”
She turned on her bootheels, storming out of the circle of students. Her peers parted down the center, making way for their Queen. The click of her heels against the tile felt like thunder against the cavernous auditorium. No one spoke as she passed, too busy listening to Sam’s ranting voice scream threats back at her.
“You watch your back, Lizzie! You—You bloody wench! You won’t make it past the night if I have any say in it! I hope you enjoyed it! ‘Cause this is the last time you ever get to play!”
____________________________________________________
The doors slammed behind her once she stepped out of the school house. Two dark doors sitting dauntingly against the curved framing. The courtyard was desolate. Earlier she had walked up the same pathway, her eyes catching on each colorful lantern, each banner tied up against the awnings, and each streamer littered on the ground in guttural displays. But now, dark pink turned red under the moonlight, marking the sidewalk in bloody smears.
It felt welcoming, watching her own bloody nose drip into lines against the streamers and confetti. It had been a depressing scene, watching all those students rush to perfect the decorations before she and Sam even arrived. But even with the looming threat just over their necks, none of them could bother to place any precision in their movements. Students flung the color paper over the playground equipment. Others dumped confetti along the sidewalk before kicking it until it spread across the path. She had seen that at least a few of them had placed care in the lanterns that lit the path, even if they were shoved on the sharp ends of iron rods.
Lizzie paced the entrance of the school, her boot heels clicking on the old wood. She glared at Sam's decrypt white truck where she’d arrived. She would kill herself before she stepped foot back in the deathtrap, but her cozy two-story home was miles away. She huffed, pulling her sweater over the ruffles of her dress.
The muddy vehicle stared back at her from the empty parking lot, judging her every move with those two dim eyes. Had she really just given up everything? Her entire life preparing for this moment and she threw it out? For what? A scrappy little boy who’d die in under a week? She could’ve had something! She did have something!
She was royalty!
She had subjects that bowed to her. She had a school wrapped around her finger, playing her songs, dancing her dance. And she had a boy determined enough to kill. She could almost see it, her own throne above it all and a boy to defend it.
And she left that—because of a rat-invested alley-boy. A kid skinny enough she could have snapped him in half. Lizzie was sure the boys of her class could pummel him in seconds flat. She wasn’t protecting him. If it wasn’t Sam, it would’ve been someone else—one of the other boys—they could’ve taken him…
And beat him…
Broken his hands…
Shoved a knife into his back…
Tore his tongue out…
And those eyes…
Something had to be done about those eyes after all—
Lizzie screamed into her mouth. Her thoughts sent her reeling as they drove deeper and deeper into the darker places of her mind. She hated it. She gritted her teeth, screaming behind her shut mouth. How dare she? How could she?
That boy had done nothing wrong—
Then why would Sam—
Sam is an insolent child, she told herself.
She kicked the nearest lantern that had fallen to the dusty floor. Her heel stabbing through the course paper down into the battery-powered candle. She shrieked, as the lantern stuck to her heel as he picked her foot back up.
She stomped back down, until the lantern was torn to shreds, mixing with the guts and confetti.
Her breath came out in huffs, her mind regarding her with a childish insult. You look like the big bad wolf, she told herself. She rolled her eyes, blowing a strand of blond hair out of her face.
“Lizzie?”
“What?” She snapped, spinning around to face the poor soul behind her.
Grian flinched back, nearly tripping over the fabric of his pant legs. His mouth clicked open and shut as he tried to stammer out words. He ducked his head down, looking up through his eyebrows at her, “I’m sorry.”
Lizzie frowned, sighing. She hadn’t meant to scare the boy, but her tone fell sharper than a knife. She shook her head, muttering, “What do you want?”
“He kicked me out.” Grian whispered back, shrugging. He stepped down to the stairs where Lizzie stood. His voice flat as he hopped down to the dusty ground.
Lizzie huffed out a laugh, shaking her head, “Sounds about right.”
She bent down, sitting at the bottom step of the doorway. She kicked off her heels, dusting off the remnants of paper stuck to the sharp end. Her feet screamed back at her, finally rid of the stabbing pain. Her heels would have to forgive her for the endless torture they had suffered.
“Aren’t you going to go home?” Grian asked, his head cocked to the side as he watched her. He sat beside her, his feet tapping along the edge of the step. There were times, she wondered, where he looked younger than fifteen.
“He was my ride.” She deadpanned, resting her head in her palm.
His tapping stopped, “Oh”
He looked around the courtyard, eyes wide, and Lizzie wished he would stop that. Those two owlish eyes staring back at her, in the light there were specks of gold washing over grey pupils. It made the two stand out against his pale face even more, round and unyielding, they switched between observing and fear in seconds. He swallowed, “I can walk.”
Lizzie blinked, raising an eyebrow. She huffed, waving a hand for the boy to leave, “Well, good for you. Don’t let me stop you.”
When he didn’t move from his spot beside her, she looked back at him. He gaped at her like a fish out of water, one tiny finger pointed over her shoulder. He nodded, “I meant you could take my bike.”
“Your bike?” Her brow furrowed, he had a bike? The thought entered her mind raising a thousand more questions. Wasn’t he an orphan? Didn’t he live in that alleyway? Where in the world did he get a bike?
“Well…” He muttered, shuffling in his spot, "technically."
“Technically?” Lizzie prompted, an unsure smile creeping its way onto her lips from the little laugh he let out. His cheeks brushed over with red as his eyes darted away to the playground.
“I stole it.” He mumbled out, suddenly. Then he straightened and tore back to Lizzie, his palms out as he pleaded, “I was gonna give it back. I promise! I wouldn’t have taken it without giving it back! I want to give it back! I just—had to get here somehow…”
Lizzie frowned, hearing the unsaid part of his sentence. Or else Sam would come get me.
She nodded, silently. The bike was nothing impressive. The paint was chipped, dusty and covered in mud. Two thin wheels jutted out of either side, shoved against the wall of the school, hidden behind two thornbushes. The triangle seat was ripped, cotton stuffing begging to be pulled out. On the handle was a single light, cracked but still working.
“Thanks.” She hummed. A part of her heart broke at the thought of ruining her new dress as it got caught in the chain. Or how it might stain from the mud caking the iron rods. Still, she had no other way home, “I’m not gonna get attacked when they figure out I have their bike, though, right?”
“I didn’t steal it from Sam.” Grian cringed, chuckling at her joke. She smiled watching as the corners of his mouth lifted until they squinted the two grey dots. Then he sighed, eyes dancing over her once more before questioning, “Why are you mad?”
She gritted her teeth. It was a dumb question. She had just given up her entire life for the kid. Why would she be mad? No, he had no idea why she was mad, he didn’t know what it was like to lose everything. She couldn’t blame him for that, living under a rock as he had, she was sure he never knew privilege if it ripped open his rib cage.
“Because…because I hate that I fell for him.” She grimaced, digging a hand into the dirt. She remembered the first day she’d met him, all smiles and giggles. The two rabbit ears, the pinnacle of innocence, sat atop his head. A wolf in sheep's clothing, he barely hid the sharp teeth and claws under cotton. She had just never dug deep enough to be scratched. “That I stood by. Let him do anything he wanted to and never dared to look further. And even when I did, I was a coward. I watched it happen, my hands are as dirty as his own. But then, part of me hates that tonight, I left it all behind.”
She stared at her dirt ridden hands. Soil latching underneath her nails, she smiled through brimming tears, “That doesn’t make much sense does it?”
She didn’t expect the other to speak. She thought he might stand and leave, but he shuffled in his seat, pulling his knees closer. He hugged himself, gripping the long pantlegs. He frowned, babbling along, “You felt needed. Wanted. You had people who would do anything for you. It felt nice. Then you realized why they felt that way. And now you’re stuck missing the feeling of being wanted, but feel sick when you think about it.”
Lizzie froze, his words crawling into her ears and making home in her heart. His eyes stared straight ahead, staring down at the dark headlights of Sam’s truck. But even as he grimaced, sneer appearing on his lips, she could tell he was looking farther away. He whispered, “I–I know what you mean.”
She nodded, letting him continue at his own pace. She ignored the tear that broke away from her dams, it mixed with the drying blood of her nose. She swiped a rough hand over the blood and tears.
“But I don’t think you’ve lost it.” He spoke softly, his voice sounded as if it might break. He rested his chin on his knees, “I saw how they looked at you. The look in their eyes, that was loyalty. They’d follow you to the end of the world. Not a lot of people can say that.”
Lizzie shook her head. She had seen the look herself. They were not loyal to her. That wide eyed look was the same one Grian gave her. It was the look that bugged their eyes out, flecks of something deeper sparking. She had seen that look many times, and she was done misreading it. “No. They’re scared of me.”
“There are two types of loyalty.” He shook his head, his voice sterner, “The one brought by fear and the one brought out by love. They might be afraid of Sam.” He looked back at her, those two grey eyes squinting back at her, “But they love you.”
“How could they?” Lizzie scoffed, thumbing a tear from the corner of her eye, “After everything I let happen.”
He looked away, eyes darting to the moon that caressed the edge of the forest line. “I had siblings, you know?”
Lizzie flinched at the subject change, she glanced over to the boy waiting. He didn’t continue, staring up at the moon with a smile crossing his lips. He sighed, finally looking at the dirt below their feet, “They were loyal. They loved me.”
He nodded to himself, adding, “And I had parents. They were loyal—but they feared me. That’s the difference, love and fear. I still love my siblings, even if they watched it all happen.”
It prompted more questions about the blond than it answered. Lizzie bit her cheek, eyes darting over him once again. “They should come get you.”
“They’re gone.” He smiled, sadly. His arms tighten around his knees. “Sometimes I pretend they’re still here. Sam says I’m delusional. But talking to them makes it better.”
He shut his eyes. Lizzie waited, expecting him to say something more, but he shook his head. He flexed his hands, pushing himself off the steps until he was standing. He looked back at her, a brittle smile fighting his lips. “You should go. Sam will be done soon and you shouldn’t be around when he is.”
“I’m not afraid of Sam.” Lizzie bristled.
“You should be. Sam has no love nor fear. He has no loyalty.” Grian said, he nodded back to the bike hiding behind thornbushes. “You can take my bike. I promise they won’t be mad. I took it from my friend, he’s still saving me a spot now. He won’t be mad.”
Lizzie frowned, as the boy started walking down the sidewalk to the parking lot. She whispered, “Thank you.”
“Goodbye, Lizzie.” He smiled back at her, before he disappeared into the dark.
“Bye, Grian.” She muttered, clinging her knees closer. She gritted her teeth together, a scream building behind her lips once again. She slammed a fist into the concrete, before her eyes met the silver of the moon. She sighed, rubbing her growing headache, and for a moment she allowed herself to pretend. She looked up at the moon and spoke, softly, “I’ll protect him. I promise.”
_____________________________________________________________________
To get to Lizzie’s home she had to traverse through the dirt ridden country roads. The roads were encased by trees that spanned up into the night sky. The tips of the canopies sharpened like jagged teeth of a crooked smile. The moon stuck between the two lips as it played with its food.
Lizzie had always felt safer in the steel square that drove effortlessly down the caked roads. Without those tough doors encasing her, she felt exposed to the elements. She peddled as fast as she could in heels, cursing Sam in her mind as she went. With each darting glance to the mouth of the thicket she imagined a wild animal taunting her. They waited in the darkness for the perfect moment to charge. She could almost feel it, the sharp teeth tearing through her flesh before devouring her whole. She imagined that in that moment she wouldn’t be unlike the moon, nothing more than a toy for the animal to chew and spit out.
It was a thought that kept her eyes on the road, wishing every second that the next turn would lead her down to the comfy neighborhood she was used to. Then she could leave the forest behind her as she did everyday. It had always been something she hated. The forest was inhuman to her. Nature followed no laws or rules except those governed by its own mother, she couldn't imagine that. It tortured its children and yet they each sought for her attention and approval. The animals inside fought in a hierarchy for the highest placement, yet would stoop to the most inhumane resorts to survive a day longer. It was sick. In the end that’s what she regretted most, the thought that the cruelty of Mother Nature stayed out of what was her own flesh and blood.
Behind her she could hear the familiar rumble of an engine climbing the hill. She hated how that sound never made her flinch at the time. The road was well-used after all, she wondered if the car would pull around. She could feel the heat of the lights brush against her shoulder blades, before the rumbling grew in her ears.
She glanced behind her once, noticing the white shine of the front panel. It was the reflection of white in the window that had her heart shutter in her chest. The two long smears of white that mirrored off white paint of a diary truck. She gritted her teeth, the sound of an engine cutting off behind her.
Lizzie slammed her foot down into the dirt, the front wheel of the bike skidding against the gravel. She turned to face the truck, glaring into the windshield to what she could see.
She grimaced as the truck stared back at her. Two bright lights still heating her skin as the vehicle stuttered in its spot. It was shaking with excitement, wide eyes carving into her skin with each flicker.
“Get out here, Sam.” She called, “I know you’re in there.”
Grian had been right, after all. Sam would be finished at the prom soon enough, and he would not be happy. Her eyes narrowed as the car finally cut off fully, she watched as the door opened. Her prince in white stepped out proudly. He still had the blood stained against his chest and some still smear across his nose and cheek. He tightened his tie, smile spread across rosy cheeks.
He stared back at her blankly, his chin clicking as he chewed.
“What the hell do you want, Sam?” She shouted back at him, crossing her arms.
The boy didn’t say anything, for a moment he opened his mouth, blowing out air in a bubble of pink film. She cringed, “Are you going to say anything? Or are you just going to stand there until I say ‘sorry’?”
He popped his gum once again, chewing it in the side of his mouth.
“I am not going to say sorry! Everything I said there was true! You can’t just hurt people. You can’t treat them like objects you get to throw out. I am not going to apologize to you and I’m not going to stand by and say it's okay either.”
Sam blinked back at her, he took a single step backwards. Lizzie watched as he blew out a second round of bubblegum as he turned to face his truck again. He lifted himself up into the bed of his truck as she tried to call out again, “What are you even doing out here! Go home! I told you we’re done!”
He leapt off of the rim of the bed, this time, however, there was something long lifted in both of his hands. He popped his gum once again, earning huff from the girl. Lizzie shoved off the bike, her hands finding their place at her hips as she glared at him. Whatever he held was shadowed by the trees, his hands lifting it up to his eye.
“Sam! Will you say something? I don’t really know what I’m working with here?” She grumbled, as he stepped forward once again. Only then did the moonlight hit his shoulders and show the long barrel that pointed at her. His fingers rested over the trigger of his shotgun that had perched against the back of his truck for as long as she knew him.
Lizzie flinched, eyes staring down the barrel. “Sam…”
“Sam—what the hell are you doing?”
She could just barely make out the smile that crossed his lips, but she could hear the pop of his bubblegum just before his fingers jackhammered.
Lizzie screamed.
She jumped to the pavement as the shot sounded off. It rang in her ears once she was tossed against the ground. Her knees scraped against the gravel, peeling back skin, leaving her bloody against the ground. At first, she thought the blood came from the wound of a bullet puncturing skin, but the twin scratches across her knees told her otherwise.
She clamped hands over her ears as they screamed back, her eyes darting back to see Sam stomp his foot down. She saw as he rolled his shoulders, lifting the gun once again to his eye, training it on her form.
She squealed, “Sam!”
The second shot came faster than the first. She leapt from the ground, her feet moving before she could think as she ran towards the forest mouth. Her heels snagged along roots and pebbles as she scrambled to hide from the boy chasing after her.
The spaces between tree trunks were small and thin, barely the width of her waist. She raced through the swaths of spiderwebbing limbs that spanned over the thresholds. Each thin twig snapping against the force of her arms as she plowed through. She wouldn’t slow down. She couldn’t. Sam was just behind her the loud pop of his gun mixing with the bubblegum in his mouth.
She ducked under a branch as he popped his gum once again, the sound echoing outside the shell of her ear, even if she kept a yard’s distance. She couldn’t tell which piercing noise was the bullet splitting a tree in two or the pop of his gum. Her only choice was to flinch away at each sound in hope she wouldn’t find a bloody hole spreading through her skin.
The leaves beneath her feet slid with each racing step, sending her forward into darker and darker woods. Each step was a landmine waiting for some animal to snap back at her in the way only Mother Nature could.
The wind whipped past her cheeks and ears. Over the cracking of twigs beneath her feet she could only make out the vague overture of Sam’s voice. His words carried through the leaves, twisting his voice into a sweeter tone than she remembered. All the while, he sang, “Boys and Girls come out to play,” And childishly she found herself wanting to, “Out to play! Out to play!”
The old nursery rhyme rang through the trees as she ripped past. Her skirt caught on the thorns tangled against the roots of a tree. Pink tulle tearing in screeching strips, a pink web of soft tissue strangled by the viney arms. Lizzie shrieked, fingers moving to snatch the tissue away. Thorns pricked against her skin, pulling red pellets from the pads of her fingers.
“The moon doth shine as bright as day!” Sam sang out over the forest wails.
Lizzie shuddered as another shot rang out until the peirce of a tree snapping back sounded off. She cursed under her breath, wrapping her palm around the tulle and pulling. It ripped out from the claws of the thornbush, painting the hem of her dress in dark maroon.
She darted off once again, her heel wobbling against the unstable ground. But even as she ran between the dangling fangs of trees, Sam sang out in his cherry voice, “Bright as day, Bright as Day!”
She could feel his voice getting louder against the back of her hair. When his last bullet sang its sick melody, she could hear the patter of feet sharpen. The thick clatter of metal hitting rock let her heart breathe for only a moment before she could hear Sam’s voice grow louder.
“Leave you supper,” he sang out, his voice skipping a beat with each bounce of his feet. Out of the corner of her eyes she could just barely make out the white streaks that chased between dark tree trunks.
She could feel her chest tighten with each heave of her lungs. Her legs burned beneath the skin as sticks scraped tears against her limbs. Blood ran down her legs in thin droplets, drooling and smearing against pale flesh. “And leave your sleep!”
His voice was too close—too close. It sounded almost like he was right beside her, but the more she turned her head the harder it was to spot those white ears peaking through the brown and grey. She couldn’t see him, but she could feel him. She could feel his warmth creeping closer with each ragged breath.
She spun around, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck prick against warm air—unlike the freezing chill that whipped her face as she ran. Her eyes met nothing but darkness as the back of her heel slammed into the root of a tree—and then there were hands on her arms.
“And join your playfellows,” The hands shoved her down until the back of her head met piled dirt. She could feel the sudden sack of bricks that laid over her, her legs pinned beneath the limbs of another. She tried to snatch her wrists out of the cold grip as the long fingers dug their nails into skin. Sam continued to hum his song, singing to himself as he kicked her legs out from struggling, “in the street.”
She shrieked, growling out screams of nonsense as he worked. His free hand trailed down to the inside of his white jacket. Lizzie spat in his face, ripping a hand out of his grip enough to shove him away. He grimaced, cursing something under his breath between hums.
He sat atop her waist, as Lizzie landed a single punch to his groin. He howled in pain rolling off of her, dirtying the white suit in brown and blacks. She struggled to her feet, tearing one of her heels off before battering the blunt end into his skull. He grumbled, throwing his elbow back into her barely healed nose. She stumbled back, dropping her shoe, as she cradled her broken nose.
Sam giggled to himself, “Come with a whoop,” He shot forward, grabbing her wrist and pulling her down. Searing pain enveloped her back as he threw her against the trunk of a tree. Her temple landed against the crusted bark, dragging blood to the surface of her forehead. “Come with a call!”
Her hand slid on the fallen leaves, until she felt the rough and hairy texture of something thin slip past. It happened as quickly as she had fallen, her hand ripped out from under her as the rope tightened. It pulled upwards, her shoulder torn from the socket as the noose rose in the darkened sky. “Come with a good will,”
She glanced back at Sam, his smile spreading across the milky face. She tugged against the rope, strangling her wrist until the edges of her fingers turned blue. She could only watch as Sam lifted his jacket, revealing the interior pocket. He pulled the silver slave out, his hand wrapped around hilt in a vengeance. His grin sparked with white teeth, and for the first time Lizzie saw the canines that laid beneath human lips.
“Sam!” She screamed, “Sam, please! What—”
One a single slash the knife gashed her arm open. She had flinched away at the last minute, using one arm to protect her face from the onslaught. The gash spread across from her wrist to her elbow, thin skin peeled back to reveal red muscle and blood.
“Or come not at all.” Sam sneered. The knife rose a second time, angled just above her eyes. She stared at her reflection, the pale face of someone she didn’t recognize. His teeth gritted together as he slammed the knife down, Lizzie snagged his wrist just before the knife crossed paths with her nose.
Sam grimaced, fighting against her push to dig the knife into her chest. She cried, unaware of the tears that shed down her eyes, or the words that begged from her mouth. She couldn’t hear the sound of her voice against Sam’s grumblings and repeated words. Still she begged through her tears, struggling to rip his grip away with one hand.
“Sam—Sam—please! Please—I won’t—I don’t”
“Up the ladder!” He screamed over her words, his voice losing its sing-song nature. She kicked against him, fighting with her whole body to sway his aim. Her fingers wrapped around his grip on the knife, tugging at the stiff position of his fingers. She felt as if she’d break his fingers if she tore it from him. Still she slipped her fingers between his own, forcing his fingers to break open. “And down the wall.”
He pushed forward again, heavier, his whole body jutting forward at once. She flinched, shrieking, as she sank into the earth. She didn’t care anymore about her unease of Mother Nature. She would rather the lady swallow her whole.
“A penny loaf will,” Sam sang punctuating each word. Her fingers broke through his own until she finally ripped the knife out from under him. He squealed, high-pitched and tantrumous, “serve us all!” he stomped out.
Lizzie wasted no breath, she stole the knife away, slicing through the rope above her arm. With her arm free, she tore to her feet. She staggered through the threshold of trees running as fast as her feet would allow her. She could hear Sam’s screams behind her as she ran out, his voice echoing against hollow bird’s nests.
The traps had spread now. They were layered on the forest floor, digging into the dirt as if they had always had homes there. Many still had the poor souls still trapped, torn to shreds with blood and muscle staining the forest floor.
She held the knife steady in her hands as she ran, her blood coursing through her veins in boiling rivers. She tore against the webbing limbs of trees that blocked her path, twisting in and out of dirt ridden paths for the overgrowth. In the corners of her eyes she could barely make out the flash of silver between dull leaves. Snares and bear traps laid out with sharpened teeth.
Her ankle caught on the teeth of barbed wire, cutting through her tights and into skin. Still, she ripped past too fast for the trap to ensnare her ankle. She slid against the mud as the dirt slowly became laden and darker. Clumps of mud sticking to the lost corpses of dead birds.
As she twisted past another tree, she could spot orange and white fur lodged into a snare trap. A fox strangled by the barbed wire snare, fur clumped with mud and blood. The muck wrapped around the animal like a blanket, riddled with maggots that poked beady heads out of flesh.
She shrieked, hearing as Sam recited his song, “Boys and Girls come out to play!” She winced, a single look back to the poor fox before sprinting off again. She rushed past a third trap, the same orange and white fur clamped between mangled teeth. Her tights slid against mud and her single heel sank into the ground with each step.
There was a river. It ran straight through the forest cutting it in half. The muddy layer of the forest floor rising from its thrashing water. Lizzie couldn’t tell if it was a blessing or a curse as she darted towards the water. Sam’s voice still calling out behind her, “Out to play, out to play!”
She could see the thin layer of safety that covered the stream, a shiny sheet of blue. A single ripple would tear the sheet away revealing thrashing waters underneath as the ripple turned to waves. In the back of her mind, she thought that was what she needed. A ripple turned into a wave.
Closer now, she could almost feel the tiny beads of water against her skin or if that was sweat she couldn’t tell. “The moon doth shine as bright as day!”
It clamped around her ankle, snaring her from the ground and away from the world as she knew it. She had barely blinked, before up was down. Her hair tossed from the pins of her bun, blonde strands hung limply against the wind. Thorns bite into her skin, shredding down her flesh as gravity sought to win. And yet, the knot above her would pull and pull as the blood rushed down and down.
Her head spun, eyes dotting with black spots, she heaved. Shaking breaths escaped her too quickly, before she could even reach the tree limb above her feet. “No—”
“Bright as day! Bright as day!”
“No–” Lizzie cried out, the stolen knife laid innocently on the ground below her. She grunted, pulling her arm back as the gash spread its deadly wings of skin. Her fingers brushed over the hilt of the knife, her head pounding as she imagined her ears began to grow red. “Ple–”
She grasped the knife tightly, lurching forward. Below her, she could just make out the muddy forest floor and the stream she hung over. She twisted, barbed rope swinging back and forth. She seethed out as the thorns dug deeper into muscle, she could just barely make out the white of Sam’s flashlight closing in now.
“Leave your supper,” His voice growing closer, “and leave your sleep!”
Lizzie grimaced, eyes darting back to the stream where that thin layer of calm rested over the thrashing rapids. She shook her head as much as she bared, lurching forward once again, the rope swinging back out before hanging over the river. She gritted her teeth, pulling her chest close to her knees as much as she could, she gripped the thorny rope in her palm. And without a second thought sliced straight through as she swayed back and forth on the line.
There was water in her nose before she could breathe again. The thrashing waves of the river dancing around her skin. The rocks below her feet are a constant reminder of where she was. She felt no need to flail against the waves, a large breath hidden beneath her chest. Instead, the fluttering sound of water filled her ears as garbled versions of the old nursery rhyme came closer.
“And join your playfellows in the street.”
Her eyes burned against the water as she waited it out. She could see the white fuzzy figure above her, searching, playing with its food as she tugged on the closest root to keep her below the surface. Her chest begged for air, nose burning from the water and eyes squinted.
Above her, the figure moved, swaying with the rope still attached to the tree. Slowly, it backed away from the water’s edge. She nearly let out her breath, gritted her teeth as she waited longer for him to leave. The garbled voice grew quieter, and she shot up from the water’s hold.
She coughed out her lungs, crawling up from the water’s breach. Her body refused to move with her, screaming against each of her movements. She was soaked. The blood washed down her legs and arms in pink and light red streaks. He tugged her body onto the land, rolling against the ground to catch her breath. Her eyes begged to close, to sleep. But against her ears she could still hear the whistling of a nursery rhyme.
She seized upwards— before something snapped against her head and
Everything…
Went…
Black.
______________________________________
Waking up was a slow process and yet, all her senses came back at once.
She could feel as prickles of dirt fluttered down her skin. It congealed at her elbows, stiffening her limbs in a doll-like manner. That was how she felt, a forgotten doll buried below in the depths of old memories. Except the memories were pebbles, clumps of mud and shovel-fulls of dirt that filled every crevice.
The dirt poured down her nose fluttering out with each uneasy breath and strangling her throat as she sucked in air. She had enough thought not to panic in that moment, as dirt and mud spread down her throat. The tiniest gasp of air led to packets of dirt filling her mouth, grinding against her teeth. She choked through a cough, squeezing her lips shut to block the grainy substance.
She could still feel cool air against one of her knees, a small pile of dirt surrounding her ankles like chains, binding her to the earth. A single wrist was free against the burial, her fingers begging to move against grass and sharpened roots. She wished she could shove off the dirt that held heavy over her throat and eyes, but each second that passed was finished by a waterfall of soil poured over her.
It came down like a thunderstorm—constant, unwavering, without remorse. There was no hesitation between the downpour. It locked her in place, heating with each added layer. She could feel herself becoming one with the earth below her. The heat of the earth’s core stretching its ugly tendrils up into her lace.
She tried to swallow back a sob, soil throbbed in her throat. Her eyes squeezed shut, blinking out grains from her eyelashes. She could barely breath, but could feel every atom of her body. She could feel the slimy worm that pressed its beady head against the skin of her cheek. The sharpened end of roots that stabbed into her back. The tiny legs of ants crawled over her arms, searching through each bloody wound.
Above her she could feel his presence, that was what kept her quiet. It was the only explanation she told herself, Sam’s constant shoveling mixed with the giggles that echoed through the forest. She could hear the tune he hummed under his breath, only pausing with each grunt as he tore up dirt.
“ —fellows in the street. In the street. In the street.” he repeated over and over again, a broken record.
She didn’t move. She didn’t speak. She barely dared breathe.
He only stopped once the sharp melody of his phone cut him off. She remembered that alarm, the specific theme for Taurtis’ favorite movie. In her mind, she could have cried of relief.
“What?” Sam snapped, and Lizzie flinched.
She froze—listening.
“Hello?” Sam sneered, before another voice rang through the forest.
“Sam!” Taurtis shouted back, his laughter elegant compared to Sam’s voice. “Dude, where are you! You said you were coming?”
Lizzie could hear as Sam tried to plaster on his smile, “What are you talking about? I’m on my way!”
“Are you sure? Cause it’s been a bit and people are wondering…hey, do you know where Grian went?” Taurtis asked, his voice overwhelmed by the screams and hollers of other students. “Haven’t seen the kid for a bit.”
Sam scoffed, “Why should I know? I’ll be there in a second. I’m busy.” His voice was sharper than normal.
“Okay…” Taurtis sighed, “Look, just get here. I don’t know what you’re doing but I don’t like how you sound. Get over here before I come find you myself.”
Lizzie’s chest tightened, whether from the lack of oxygen or not she wasn’t sure. Sam huffed, “Fine! Five minutes.” He paused for a second, and Lizzie felt a sharp pain as something jammed into her side. She silenced a wince from his sharp loafers, lucking his voice canceled out any noise, “Find that orphan will you.”
Taurtis made a low noise, “I told you to stop calling him that.”
The phone clicked, and once again the pain was back as he kicked once again. “Bitch.”
She grimaced, listening as his shoes crunched against sticks and leaves. She counted to ten—and lurched.
The dirt weighed against her body like its own corpse. She sprung her arm out, shoving as much off of her as she could manage. Her free leg kicking out against the mud. Rolling out of her own grave was a lot like rolling out of bed, only this time her limbs truly felt like lead. They held her down to the earth not with the weakness that came with sleep itching out of your body, but with the pain of your body waking from its own blood loss.
Give it a moment, she thought, as the bear threads of pain stitched into her skin. She laid there, soaking in her own dirt-ridden blood. Her arm had dried leaving an ugly bare gash painted in a hard coating scarlet, a single knick against the scab of blood would send her oozing out. Still the stains left peppered kisses against her skin.
She raised herself up, pushing against the soil. The sash across her chest ripped with a single tug. She wrapped the sash around her wound, tying it close to the elbow. She bit down against her lip as the sash began to contort and sever the view veins still sending careful drops of blood drooling.
Sighing, she stood on two wobbly legs. Her single heel nearly sent her back to the gravesite as her ankle twisted. She brushed herself off, glaring down at the path Sam had taken, her fingers gliding up to her hair. There she found the broken shards of glass decorated in thin lines of metal. She ripped the crown from her hair, ripping blond strands with it, tugging them from their perfect bun. It had long since fallen out, tiny frayed hair danced from her scalp pleading for anyone to help them.
She threw the broken shards down into the grave below her. With a heavy breath she took a step back—then another. Until she was hobbling out of the woods and towards any sign of civilization. Between the gaps of trees she could make out the pure light that shone from twin headlights.
Leaning against the base of a tree, she could make out the run down truck sitting innocently in the middle of the road. Sam hadn’t found his way back to his truck, the driver’s seat empty. He blocked the road completely, uncaring for anyone who drove past. He knew the woods well enough to know which roads were never ridden.
Lizzie stumbled out onto the pavement, the bike missing from its fallen spot. Wherever Sam was, he had dragged the old bike with him—the last evidence that she had ever been there in the first place. She grimaced, stepping up to the side of the white truck, her hands slipping onto the doorhandle for balance.
It was locked, barring her from entrance. She spat out the remnants of blood rushing out of her nose. It splattered onto the edge of the car door, painting it in dusty red. She bent down, picking her heel from her foot. Bare feet hit pavement as she raised the sharpened heel above her head.
She slammed the spike down into the window, cracking it instantly. A spiderweb of thin lines spread across the clear blue glass. A second stab into his safety net and the window shattered into tiny shards for latter crowns to grow from. Tiny cuts pinpricked her hands, only earning a slight wince before she pushed through the remnants into the interior. A click of the lock and she threw the door open.
Slipping into the car seat, she dragged her pink dress behind her. Sam’s car had always been a mess, littered trash and food filling the floor. Papers and old folders scattered the dashboard, and dark bags filled to the brim were shoved into the back seat. It hadn’t been the carriage she wanted to arrive in—with silver trim and gold metal railing.
Across the junk, her eyes caught on the white that laid beneath Sam’s crown. In her mind, she could imagine herself ripping into the thin plastic. Instead, she grasped the white papers with shaking fingers slipping them out.
Photographs of different girls faced her. Each an old school photo that had been scratched and written over in red pen. Markings pointed out blemishes on their skin, or the color of their hair. A few notes lined the bottoms written in hard lines before a giant red X was drawn over their faces.
Only one photo didn’t have the red X, instead Lizzie found her own face staring back at her. Except it looked nothing like her. There was still the same pink hair, lining blonde curls. Only hers was shorter, only running to her shoulders, and the eyes didn’t match. Lizzie’s were wide, an ocean blue in color, while this girl’s were thin, pointed and dark. Her facial shape was different, pointier and blemished with red makeup around her cheeks. Each of these things were marked and pointed out in red ink.
Lizzie gritted her teeth, he was going to replace her.
She slipped out of the truck, grabbing the knife that laid against the dashboard. She slammed the door shut, pavement burning against her bare feet. The knife landed square in the tire, she slashed black rubber running a gash along the curve. She pulled the knife out, running the tip along the white paint as she rounded the truck bed.
Her legs dragged her closer to the back of the truck until she found the open door. She pulled herself up into the bed, tucked underneath the tarp she found the hard iron traps. A long rifle was tacked against the side of the white bed, she grimaced, pulling the gun from its holster easily.
Once out of the truck bed, she dragged the end of the gun along the pavement, the sound screeching above the quiet forest noise. She stumbled back into the woods, the thicket pricking her feet as she stepped through thorn bushes and roots. She dropped behind the heavy bushes, her body easing back into the soil.
She didn’t think as Sam climbed up from the other side of the forest. He whistled that same tune under his breath, wiping his hands off. She didn’t think as she lined up the sight of the gun to his head, those two white ears piercing the air like devilish horns.
He stared at his truck, his tire slash and window broken, he turned back to the forest where he had laid her to rest. His mouth a thin line as she glared out into the thicket. Lizzie sneered, her finger resting over the trigger of the gun.
She could feel her grip growing lax, but in her last thoughts she screamed at herself to pull—to shoot.
But her fingers didn’t flinch towards the trigger, her hand fell to the side as her eyes dusted over with grey once again.
Her last thoughts were, screaming to kill, before she passed out.