A/N: Yes, here it is. Chapter twenty. Can you believe I tricked you guys into reading twenty chapters worth of a story that you still don't know what the plot is?
Breaking the Broken
Twenty
Liars and Battle Lines
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Envy is the daughter of pride, the author of murder and revenge, the beginner of the secret sedition, and the perpetual tormentor of virtue. Envy is the slime of the soul; a venom, a poison, or quicksilver which consumeth the flesh and drieth up the marrow of the bones.
Socrates (B.C. 469-399)
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Swipe. Swipe. She made smooth stroke after smooth stroke, the shiny blood red liquid polishing into a perfect coat atop her toenails. Blowing softly, she half-heartedly attempted to listen to her agent rant, his technologically altered voice shouting from the speakerphone and filling even the tiniest corners of her hotel suite.
"Well, when exactly do you plan to come back?" his irritated voice rang.
"I haven't really thought about it," she said nonchalantly, fussing with her blonde curls.
"Belinda, you were supposed to be back in New York a month ago. That's when the L.A. job was done. What the fuck do you think you're playing at?"
"Personal issues arose," she tossed off, carefully making her way towards her gigantic closet.
"Belinda Van Ryan, do you even realize what this is doing to your career? Half the world is wondering where you are, what you're doing, exactly why you dropped off the face of the Earth, and why the fuck you're bailing on all your contracts!"
"Family situation," Belinda said icily, sifting through racks of designer garments until coming to rest upon her favorite of them all. Midnight black and blood red, the dress had been made especially for her by a disgruntled designer who felt that it suited her well.
An unexpected burst of laughter came through the speaker, a maniac, depraved, twisted, humorless kind of laughter. "A family situation? Belinda, for fuck's sake, you don't have a family!"
Her light gray eyes turned their malevolent glare upon the phone, and the snickering promptly stopped as if Roy Kumbert could feel it on the opposite coast.
"That's the story, and so help me God, you'll stick to it," she hissed menacingly, easily pulling the slinky fabric up her toned body, smiling slightly at the memory of when she received it.
Another birthday had come and gone. Thousands of bouquets and phone calls from acquaintances had poured in, as per usual. Each and every sender hoped that somehow, she'd remember them above the rest, but they all faded into the flowery perfumed obscurity. There were piles upon piles of gifts stacked to the ceiling, but there was only one person daring enough to place something upon her bed. Opening it gingerly, just in case, because there was always the off chance that a bomb can finally managed to make its way past security. Instead, out slid the most gorgeous dress she had ever laid her eyes upon, and a little note fluttered down beside it.
Belinda.
As you'll notice, this exquisite garment is just your style. Black and red, the colors of hatred, death, loathing, and evil. Not convinced yet? Observe the way the straps wrap around your neck, so similar to the way a snake strangles its prey. See the little cutout in the center of the chest? That's where a normal person's heart would be. Surely you understand why it's missing in your case. Hope you enjoy.
Happy Birthday Belinda, you beautiful snake.
And indeed, she did enjoy. While the gorgeous blonde usually made it a policy to never, ever wear an outfit more than once, this particular dress came everywhere with her. She could never quite figure out what it was about it that made her love it so. Perhaps it was finally getting to show her true colors, subtle as it was, or maybe just a manifestation of her insides that made her see that it wasn't quite as ugly as she thought. Belinda Van Ryan wasn't quite sure, and she honestly didn't care much. All she knew was that in the dress, she felt better, and more confident, and she liked it. She felt worthy of the empty praise she had so long been received. More than that, she felt deserving of the attention she had been so long denied…
"Blow out the candles, Belinda. Make a wish!" her mom would squeal eagerly, a tradition each year as the two of them sat around the tiny table with the entire kitchen submerged in darkness and their pale faces illuminated only by the candles. Each year, the custom seemed to lose a bit of something, the additional candle on the birthday cake shining light onto new truths. This was what her birthdays were like before, before she became 'BELINDA' and was merely Belinda. Don't see the difference? Open a top fashion magazine, and the indomitable beauty you see there is far different from the scared child who would blow out the single-digit candles.
"What'd you wish for, sweetie?"
"Dad," she would always answer simply, polishing off her cake and walking quietly back to her room, where she would wait patiently while her mother got herself back together.
Each year had been the same, the same wishes and tears, the awkward quiet and cake that would follow. Each year it got a little brighter in the cramped kitchen, and she got a little older. It was the same every goddamn year, until the year her mother came clean. Her gift that year had been a tear-stained letter, scratch outs written all over it. It was an apology, a confession, a plea for forgiveness for the way her life had been thus far, conveniently leaving out the circumstances of her birth. It was the best gift she had ever gotten. It was the name of her father.
As anyone raised in a home where a parent has walked out knows, every child dreams of them somehow returning. They want the fairy tale, the happily ever after in which their parents fall in love all over again, get remarried and they can finally feel completely, thoroughly, exhaustingly loved. Belinda Van Ryan dreamed of this too, of finding this notorious businessman named Alain Merteuil and having her family be whole for the first time in her life.
That dream was shattered into hundreds of thousands of pieces, falling all around her and recomposing her makeup. This handsome man did not give her up because he wasn't ready to have a family. He had given her away because he had an entirely different family. The angel at the foot of the stairs had proven it, the angry angel with eyes of sadness and tears that refused to flow, the weight of the world on her tiny shoulders as she floated about. She was precious, but she was the enemy. This child, so beautiful and well brought up, so surrounded on all sides by love and devotion, was the child that Belinda herself was supposed to be. Juliette Merteuil even reminded her of herself, with golden blonde curls and perfect skin and a cherubic face.
It was too bad she had to destroy her; Belinda thought with a cruel smile contorting her face as she slid lipstick across the pout that had earned her millions. Alain Merteuil and his beautiful bride had robbed Belinda of the chance for a real family. The beautiful blonde had always been a firm believer in quid pro quo.
"So that's the story you want me to sell, Belinda? Some bullshit about a family?" her agent's voice rang through her musings.
"Yeah… just tell them… tell them that there's been a death in the family."
"Alright. Stay beautiful, babe," his arrogant voice laughed, the finality of the hang up signified by the CLICK, and she was left alone again. Belinda Van Ryan, all dressed up with nowhere to go.
Dimming the lights in the room, she noted with a wry smile that the candles were nowhere near enough to brighten the room where she currently resided. A single tear ran down her cheek, as her harsh whisper resounded.
"Blow out the candles, Belinda. Make a wish!"
Both the elaborate birthday cake and the luxurious suite were plunged into total darkness. It was a place she was used to.
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The light giggle could be heard down the hall, and instinct told her that she should keep him far away.
"Hey, 'Bastian, let's watch a movie!" Juliette chirped happily, her eyes darting nervously towards the bedroom door.
"Another one?" Sebastian groaned. "No, not tonight, Jules. You watch TV or something, I'm going to get changed," he began heading down the hall, heavy footsteps softened by the carpeting below. "Hey, do you smell smoke?"
"It's probably a birthday cake or something," Juliette muttered in resignation, plopping down onto the couch. Normally, she wouldn't give up without a fight but he was already almost to the door and anything else would have looked suspicious. Instead, she prepared herself for the fireworks that were sure to come.
The click was almost inaudible as the doorknob turned, seemingly in slow motion. The door swung open equally quietly.
"Are you asking me out on like, a date?" Kathryn giggled into her cell phone, looking out the large bay window towards the ocean. It was a beautiful scene, such a romantic view from the hotel room, but her face registered absolute boredom, her eyes rolled upwards to the ceiling at his attempt at being suave.
"Sure Jason, I'd love to," a malicious grin slid across her pretty face, triumph shining in her eyes, and she couldn't wait for Sebastian to get home. Victory made her very… very… horny…
Kathryn Merteuil soon realized that she wouldn't be waiting very long, as she spun on her heel, a certain bounce in her step. She thought maybe she'd go to the kitchen and try to eat something before Sebastian and Juliette returned, but her path was invariably blocked by the world's handsomest man with a crestfallen expression on his face. She watched, as a powerless bystander watches a train wreck, as his features hardened and in an instant he was gone. The cell phone slipped from her loose grip, Jason Argyle continuing to babble on sounding farther and farther away as she attempted to follow him to the living room, but he was nowhere to be found.
"Damnit!" Kathryn swore, and she did the only thing she could thing of: act out. Grabbing the nearest object, a crystal goblet, she hurled it against the wall and smiled slightly at the shards that tumbled to the ground. Now this was more like it, she thought, hurling more and more items about the room as slowly, there was more rubble than furniture. It was in this state she could be found later, hands bloody with glass particles that had never quite made their way to the wall, surrounded by a field of debris with a maniacal look in her bright green eyes as she laughed deliriously.
This was how Juliette Merteuil found her cousin, the beautiful, composed, intelligent woman she had always looked up to. Silently grabbing a washcloth from the adjoining bathroom, she sank to her knees and pressed it to the bleeding lines.
"Every fucking time," Kathryn began, a sort of dazed look about her. "Every fucking time I try to one up her, I always end up getting fucked over. How is that?"
The world 'karma' sprung to Juliette's mind, but she kept silent, curling up into a ball on her cousin's lap and allowing the older girl to just vent.
"Everything she's taken from me, and I just try to show her how it feels every once in a while, and it always comes down on me! Why the fuck does it always come down on me?"
"Kathryn, you have so much more than she does," Juliette said quietly, taking her cousin's larger hand in her tiny one. They were both surprised to find that the hands were nearly identical, long and thin and delicate, with bony fingers and pristine nails. "She had Sebastian for a few hours. She hasn't had him for any longer than any debutante in Manhattan, and none of them bother you."
"None of them are my family."
"True. So shouldn't you be harder on them than you are on Cassidy?"
"What are you, channeling grandmere?"
"Maybe," Juliette shrugged mildly. "I just think it's pointless to be jealous of somehow who has spent their entire life being jealous of you. All those girls get Sebastian for a little while, but you're the one he keeps coming back to."
She was staring at her again, and Kathryn felt as if her skin was crawling. Her large blue eyes were not judging, but seeing. She was pointing out the obvious in the way that only she could do, and being that open even for a moment was frightening. She was right, this six year old was absolutely right. Sebastian would keep coming back, and Kathryn could keep fucking it up, and if that didn't happen, it would be the other way around. Kathryn heaved a sigh and felt herself coming back down to earth, glancing around the destroyed bedroom in wonder.
"C'mon Juliette, let's go get ice cream."
The blonde nodded, and took Kathryn's hand to help her up, not even flinching as her blood moistened her skin. After cleaning both themselves up, they made their way down the long hallway with idle chatter as their companion. Kathryn reached out a hand to signal for the elevator when the attendant jerked to life.
"Sorry ma'am, that elevator is… otherwise occupied. This one's just fine though," he grinned, raising his eyebrows suggestively at the lift that was out of service. The Merteuil girls, at that moment, felt more connected that they ever had, as they shared the sinking feeling that they knew all too well what was going on inside that elevator.
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Dawn was breaking. It wasn't the first time Sebastian Valmont had woken up curled around a stranger in an unfamiliar room. It was always pleasantly surprising when the other person seemed equally surprised though, just to break the monotony. This was the case when Sebastian Valmont awoke with his golden limbs entangled with the long pale ones of an intriguing supermodel.
Her transparent gray eyes widened in surprise as they met his ice blue ones, which looked much the same. They stared, bewildered at each other for a moment, before Belinda Van Ryan giggled slightly.
"You find this funny?" Sebastian asked, glaring at her out of the corner of his eye.
"You don't?" she laughed, wiping tears of mirth away from her eyes.
Sebastian cracked a small smile. It was a little funny, if he really thought about it. Which he didn't really care to, but he didn't have much option at the moment.
Moments later, her mirth had subsided, but the silence that descended upon them was not an awkward one. Somehow their hands had laced together, and Sebastian was absentmindedly playing with Belinda's curls as she stared back at him.
"Happy Birthday," he whispered, and she looked startled.
"How did you know it was my birthday yesterday?"
"Well, I kind of guessed. Most people don't leave half-eaten birthday cakes lying around their hotels for no particular reason," he teased.
"Hummm… you caught me there," she smiled, and looked around her room again, eyes twinkling at the sight of the red and black dress she had worn only hours ago peeking out of the closet. It was as if the garment had a curiosity all its own. "Do you have any idea how this happened?"
"Not a clue," Sebastian shrugged, searching the pockets of his discarded pants for a cigarette.
"Oh God… you know, I probably picked you up in an elevator or something. I'm such a whore," she whined, voice full of self-deprecation, and burrowed her head into the pillow, but kept one eye trained on the gorgeous boy beside her, gauging his reaction. She frowned upon seeing that he clearly agreed.
"You never did tell me what you were doing at the movies the other day," Sebastian inquired curiously, lighting the cigarette. It was the supposedly ideal image of post-coital bliss, and Belinda understood exactly what all those women flopped onto their backs for him, and she didn't regret becoming one of them in the least. However, she hadn't anticipated that he'd ask questions.
Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second in search of a good lie. "What, can't a girl go see a movie?"
"An animated movie designed for those under ten? Not usually."
"Do you want me to admit that I followed you there?"
"Honesty's the best policy," he replied with a large, fake smile.
"Okay, I did. But hear me out; I'm not like your psychotic stalker or anything. I just saw the little girl you were with and…" she trailed off, mind racing to find the most believable ending for that sentence as she felt him tense below her at the mention of the young girl. "And, she, um… reminds me of my sister. I really miss her. I know that's kind of weird," she forced herself to blush.
"Yeah, that is kind of weird," Sebastian said insensitively. There was a strange feeling growing within him, settling uncomfortably in his stomach. He recognized it instantly—it felt like infidelity, and God knows he'd had enough experience to know it when he felt it. But what was unusual was the guilt that accompanied it this time. "I think I'm going to go now."
"Yeah, you should get back to Kathryn," Belinda muttered absently.
"How do you know about Kathryn?" Sebastian froze, straightening up as he collected the last of his clothing.
"Well, everybody in the hotel is talking about you guys. Cutest couple here. Though not the most loyal. Or so I've heard," she grinned.
That was the thing about lying. If you could lie so well that even you were convinced, who's to say that it's a lie anymore? When there is no one to uphold the truth, what maintains it as fact? If you can lie sufficiently enough to convince others of its verity, you create your own reality. Any person can spin their own web of illusion; any spider can draw in its prey.
As Sebastian Valmont headed towards his own hotel room, he knew he was in store for the fight of a lifetime. He could almost visualize Kathryn, unjustified anger radiating from every pore of her body, stiffened posture and enraged eyes. He could hardly wait. He wanted them to fight, to scream, to break things. He wanted them to destroy everything around them, then maybe everything before them, and everything that had been keeping them apart. He wanted to fight because eventually they'd stop, and there'd be the calm in the eye of the storm that lulled them into a false sense of security. In those moments, they would cuddle and quip and snicker and plot, and then they would fight all over again. It was in those moments, in the peace between wars, which made it all worth it.
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Lalalailoathethischapterlalala. There was actually something else I was going to stick in here, but I decided it'd flow better with the next chapter, so forgive me if you think this seems like it's missing something lol.
B: Well, now you have a spoiler so gigantic I can't even describe it. I hope that'll tide you over until it actually happens lol. I took your advice on writing the Belinda POV here, which was still excruciatingly difficult, but you know that already lol, and I hope it turned out okay.
Maggie: Lol yeah, I get possessive at times. Don't worry, you are loved haha. I don't suck? Really? Lol you'll probably beg to differ by the time I get my ass back to work on AtHoiA.
Babeekim: Hahaha… I'm glad that you managed to feel bad for Cassidy. I'm trying to make people see her as someone 3'D, and not just Kathryn's pathetic wannabe cousin lol. But yeah, you'll probably get jerked around a lot more in this story. I didn't want to write this chapter, but there's a ton of foreshadowing and it was really important, so I hope you'll forgive me lol.
Katie: Angsty enough for you?
WashedOut: Well, I'm glad that you're intrigued lol. Let's just say that the plot thickens...
Keri: Lately I've been good about updating lol. Let's see how long I can keep that up. I'm glad that you liked the Kathryn/Isabelle scene, because I was really hesitant about it. And yeah, I figured it was about time that somebody gave a damn about Cassidy lol. But I do believe you owe me an e-mail… haha.
And y-x, if you're reading this: I hope I didn't mutilate your character too thoroughly.
Thanks for reading, guys!
XO Sam
p.s. Read this chapter's quote very carefully.