02. Heartless: Kanye West (or, if you would prefer, the Fray cover of it)

*Maria*

"You have another suitor," my mother informed me one cold Tuesday night, a few days after Elizabeth's stupid wedding. "He's a very likely candidate. Mr. Wesley Clay from two roads up, closer to the city. Do you remember him, dear?"

I groaned. "I remember him, and if I marry him, I'll just as soon go to prison for murder!"

"Maria Morrow, that was very unladylike," she scolded. "Come downstairs and greet him properly."

"I'd rather greet an ass!" I exclaimed. "Oh wait. I forgot. That's what you're asking me to do!"

"Get yourself downstairs and meet your future husband now," she commanded harshly before making a brisk exit from my room.

I scowled. "Bite me."

"Where did you learn manners?" a surprising sultry voice sounded from the open window. "I wanna go get some there."

I smiled happily over at my best friend, or the one I was nicest to anyways—really, I felt bad for the fellow. "What, Nick?"

He slid into my room silently, the way he did most things. "I finally followed your advice from last year, the advice you gave me to try and court the woman I love. I was right. Her father won't even tell her I courted her, or tried to anyways."

I gasped. "What kind of man would do that?"

His eyebrows rose. "Y—Well, it doesn't matter. Anyways, my parents are eager to get me out of the house, so I'm just gonna pick someone."

"You'll be miserable," I insisted. "Don't do that. Keep trying."

"Her husband has already been decided," he sighed. "I have no other options."

"Tell her," I said firmly, frowning at how easily he was giving up. "I don't want you to be miserable. You deserve better. Tell her you love her and want to marry her. Her father can't make her marry nowadays. I need get downstairs. Don't go anywhere. Find somewhere to hide."

He nodded and slid quickly into my closet, easily hiding in the darkest corner. When he was nice and hidden, I angrily headed down the two flights of stairs.

I looked around the gold entrance room to see Wesley, my parents, and my younger sister—Abigail. "I said no. I am not marrying him!"

"I can disown you," my father threatened, and I groaned, knowing he would. "Now, as I was saying, you two are goin' to be wed Saturday. Abby, you have been chosen for also. It will be a joint wedding, so marvelous and grand. I recommend starting preparations first thing tomorrow morning."

Abby groaned quietly with closed eyes. "Who?"

"Robert Mason," he said lightly, and I almost laughed but managed to keep it inside.

She hated Robert, more than I hated Wesley, and we hated each other. So, knowing she would be more miserable than me excited me.

"Disown me," she said simply with a shrug before she began walking back up the stairs. "He's an arrogant drunk, and he will do nothing but abuse me! I'll choose my own husband!"

"No daughter of mine will casually date, like some kind of harlot!" our father yelled furiously after her, but she ignored him and kept going up. "Get back down here, Abigail! He'll be here any minute!"

She paused, only so she could look over the banisters at him. "Good. You can tell him I'm not marrying him when he arrives. Even if he was the last man on earth, I would marry a woman first!"

That completely changed the mood of the room. Our parents went from angry to mortified and humiliated in an instant. When they chased up after her, I looked over to Wesley.

"You should know I don't like you," I said simply.

"I like your figure," he informed me in that arrogant tone of his. "That's about it. We'll make pretty babies."

I hated admitting it, but he was right.

"You can go now," I said lightly, remembering Nick hiding upstairs. "I'll see you Saturday."

He nodded, tipped his hat, and left. Cautiously, I began going upstairs into my room, where my family members' yells were loud and vivid and Nick was starting to climb out the window.

I frowned at him. "Where are you going?"

"I mostly just came to tell you I'm shipping out next week, off to the war," he said in a low voice. "I should go now. Is . . . is Abigail gonna be okay?"

This surprised and irritated me. "I hope not. Why do you ask?"

He looked away from me and shook his head, eyes soft. "No reason. I, uh, should really—"

"She was the one you tried to court," I accused, not asked.

I could see the understanding in his eyes, so I knew he had tried. He didn't even try to deny it, because he knew I knew, and he knew I was mad. Mad wasn't really even a good enough word to describe it, but it's the most polite word, so I'll use it instead of the other.

"Well, unfortunately for you, her husband's already chosen," I sneered, purposely trying to hurt him. "Now, I really think you should go. You can come to the wedding Saturday. I'm sure it would be a lot of fun. I'll make sure to send you an invitation."

He glared at me. "Well, okay, best friend. Thanks for always being there and saying all that. I didn't mean to fall in love with your sister, okay? Get over it. It happened. It can't be changed."

I shrugged. "Sucks to be you, 'cause you'll have to move on. Your chances are up and over."

"We'll see about that," he muttered under his breathed, and then, he began going out the window. "I have a chance still, Lizzie. You'll see."

And then he was gone.

At that moment, I realized I was down a friend and I had two options. I could ruin my sister's life, because I knew she had a thing for him, and his all at once. My father must've known too. That's probably why he didn't tell her about him trying to court her. So, I could tell him that he plans to win her over, or I could keep quiet and let her be happy, much happier than I would be in life, especially if he ever perfects that immortality compound he's been working on.

It wasn't hard to decide which option I went with.