Breaking the Broken
Twenty Three
You Thought Wrong
--
But how could I miscalculate?
Perfect eyes will have perfect aim
If I could chose
It's only you
Brand New
----------------
It was peaceful, as were all the suites in the luxury hotel. Each designed in a different style, they were all done in colors that could only be described as soothing. Upon stepping into the massive hotel room done in various shades of blue, an odd sense of calm swept over the person. However, the calm was about to shatter into thousands of prickly pieces, each wielding their own sharp edge. It all started with a knock at the door.
Tall and blonde and visually flawless, the expression on Belinda Van Ryan's face was far less placid than that of the room. Making her way to the door, she flung it open unceremoniously, a fiery glare blazing in her pale, pale gray eyes at having her leisure time interrupted. The other side of the door revealed someone equally livid.
Once good-looking, his appearance had faded into a shadow of what he had once been. Dark hair going light, receding slowly, hair line retreating as it admitted its defeat against the inevitability of old age covered the dome of his head. A toned body gone to waste, his stomach protruded slightly over his belt, the buckle of which was ridiculously large and expensive, and Belinda could barely keep herself from spitting at it. It was probably ripping her off that had paid for it. Furious brown eyes bore into hers. Resting her hand on her thin hip, her perfect pink mouth opened to demand an explanation when he thrust it at her. The Post, with a crease down the middle. Smiling faintly, the gorgeous blonde knew that he had probably seen whatever was so important and hopped right onto the next plane.
"Roy, so nice to see you again. Please, do come in," she sneered as the man pushed past her.
"No time for sarcasm Belinda. Read the damn article."
Casting a disinterested gaze at the front page, her translucent eyes darkened as her jaw dropped open, seeing her own image stare back at her. Large black letters mocked her, the image never blurring as unexpected tears rushed to her gray irises.
BELINDA VAN RYAN: THE NEW KATE MOSS
Supermodel Caught With Cocaine at Charity Fundraiser
Long before she had traced her own bloodlines there, Belinda had heard of the Merteuils. The blonde had envied them, each and every one of them. They were rich and they were beautiful. They had more money than they could possibly spend, and they were all perfectly composed. Each one had always seemed unflappable, a quality she longed to emit. She had worked diligently at it, and made great progress. There was not much left in the world that could shock Belinda Van Ryan.
Numbly tracing her own photograph, details of which remaining painfully clear right down from her gorgeous silk dress to the spoon near her nostril, she realized that she'd have to adjust that assessment.
It sprang from within her, hot and bubbling, churning within her barely-existent stomach. Her head spun, her jaw clenched. This was what her mother had told her about. She wasn't a Merteuil, not really, no matter what she did. She could not close herself off the way a real member of the esteemed French family could, she couldn't just isolate portions of herself. Throughout her life, Belinda Van Ryan had moved as a whole being, acutely aware of everything going on around her and feeling it reverberate within. To be a Merteuil meant to separate your parts, to remove the ones that ail you, to float through life in a selectively permeable membrane, only letting in what you could handle and holding at bay what you couldn't. Her mother had always told her it was better this way, pain was all part of being alive. Belinda knew that her mother was right, in a tiny, tucked away part of her heart. She knew she was right, but she didn't care.
Fury and horror pounded messages to her brain, her narrow feet pounded against the floor in time. A whirling dervish of blonde curls and gray satin flitted around the room, broken glass and radiating anger in its wake. In no time at all, she was in the bathroom, and while smashing the porcelain and glass seemed an appealing option, she had something far more damaging in mind.
"Hey B, I didn't know you read Cruel Intentions," her agent, Roy Kumbert, called from the living room. In her mind, she could picture him lounging on the couch, casually flipping through the copy of the journal that had sat on the coffee table. She could imagine his feet propped up on that same exquisitely carved table, his grubby fingers contaminating everything in her makeshift sanctuary. God, how she loathed him.
She merely grunted in response, but he ploughed on. "I've read this before. It was sad, wasn't it? I always felt bad for that Annette, She finally found someone to spend her life with, someone she loved and that loved her back, only to have him ripped away. I'm glad that Kathryn bitch got what was coming to her, though. It's definitely not normal to be in love with your brother."
"Stepbrother," Belinda muttered involuntarily,
"Anyway, it was pretty fucking cool that they both got what was coming to them in the end, wasn't it? I love the irony that they both lost what they loved most—she lost her reputation, and he lost both his life and his car. They had it coming," he boomed pompously, and she couldn't help it—she glared at the wall, imaging he was there.
"If you say so," she chimed through gritted teeth, rattling through the cabinets. Her eyes lit up as she found them, carefully unsealing the bag and sliding the numerous tiny white pills onto her palm. Slowly, a malicious grin curling the corners of the lips that had gotten her so far in life, she plucked one out of her soft hand, and plopped in into the toilet. Watching the tablet sink slowly, the water rippling around it, rising and falling gently, she hardened at the edges as it began to dissolve. Dropping one after another into the basin, she went through the pile quickly. Crouching against the bathtub, her gray eyes took in the sight, a minefield of medication in a dissolving haze.
She had miscalculated. Aiming for the obvious weakness, she had snatched the medicine of the child struggling with her health. Belinda had never realized that there were so many worse ways to suffer. Flushing and watching with slight glee; Belinda Van Ryan took in the sight of heart medication swirl to its imminent demise, and relished her slight victory. The blonde had ever contemplated slipping it back, waiting just long enough to make sure her sister had gotten the message. However, she didn't grasp that if dead, you would suffer no pain. If still alive, everything could be stripped from you and you would feel the loss all too brilliantly.
"Belinda, somebody just slipped this under the door," Roy dropped a small sheaf of paper, and it fluttered to the floor beside her. If he noticed anything amiss, he didn't let on.
"Reputation, reputation, reputation! O, I have lost my reputation! I have lost the immortal part of myself, and what remains is bestial."
-William Shakespeare
In case you don't know who Shakespeare is, he wrote plays. I would so hate to underestimate your intelligence but… well, you are a model.
J.A.I.M
The note sealed it. Her failure was a slap in the face; its sting felt full-force. The gorgeous blonde who had the world at her feet had only a small condolence. While her heart felt as if it was bleeding, at least it wasn't failing.
----------------
He stirred slightly, motion activating through his unwilling tan limbs. Groaning slightly, Sebastian Valmont wondered what he was doing up at this time. The room was cast into darkness, a pitch-black cloak veiling its contents from view, and just the smallest sliver of light fought its way through the drapes. Heavy, just beautiful enough to not be tacky. Shaking his golden curls out of his eyes, he registered that it was nearly 10:30, and was not that early at all…yet the room gave the illusion of midnight. Those were some really awesome drapes.
Rising just a little bit, he tried not to wake the restless form of Kathryn Merteuil. Small little circles were forming beneath her eyes, delicate shadows playing across her face, and he tried to remember when she had come in the night before. His arm was wedged tightly under her scantily clad form, and though it was losing feeling, he didn't mind.
"It used to be kind of an exercise, you know?" she spoke, her voice a little hoarse. Kathryn hadn't turned to look at him, hadn't even given an indication that she was awake. It was one of the things Sebastian loved most about her, the way she lived for surprise. Kathryn Merteuil was never one to come with a preamble, to ease into something. She would always dive right in, if only because she could.
"What's that?" he mumbled sleepily.
"Remembering stuff," she admitted, keeping her bright gaze stubbornly trained on the opposite wall. Her spine was pressed against his chest, his large hand intertwined with her small one, but her head remained forward.
"Like what?"
"Your voice. Juliette's scar. Cassidy's perfume," Kathryn sighed. "Stupid stuff. But I figured that if I could keep all the memories in tact, when I got out of Methadone, I could just live again. I could stay alive in there if I could remember all the details."
"And could you?" Sebastian prodded, intrigued at this new turn of events. It was always the dark that made Kathryn's emotions come alive, those elusive things that she ignored the existence of in the presence of daylight. Too tender to be seen, they were only to be voiced in the dark of night.
"Perfectly," a tiny laugh escaped her throat, though it was clear she found nothing amusing. "I could hear you when you were angry, happy, smug, turned on. I could even imagine her scar fading a little bit as time went on. Hell, I could even remember what Cassidy smelled like if she was wearing perfume and we'd had filet mignon for dinner."
"Why does that upset you?"
"Because it doesn't mean a damn thing," her tiny frame turned quickly, her gaze locking with his. He didn't ask her to continue, but curiosity oozed from him.
"It doesn't matter whether I remember it or not, because they exist either way. It doesn't matter if I can recall Juliette's scar. It still exists, and it still fades, and she's still growing. It never really mattered if I could still hear your voice, because I thought I would never hear it again. And now that I know I will, I can hear it anytime," said Kathryn. "The world kept spinning while I was locked up, and now everything's changed, regardless of the fact that I remember exactly how it used to be."
"It's not that different, Kat," Sebastian soothed.
She didn't answer, just curling into him. He stroked her hair, knowing that in a few hours, they would both be up and about and this moment would never be spoken of again. She was right, he knew. It didn't mean a damn thing. But he would cling to it anyway.
----------------
Exhaust fumes contaminated the air around them, and Cassidy briefly wondered if she could sue the school for any ensuing damage. Probably not. As the buses for Catalina prepared for their departure, Sheila and Michael were exchanging a tearful goodbye, while Cassidy and Jason stood awkwardly to the side.
"No kiss for me?" the handsome boy taunted, and she threw him a sharp look.
"No thanks. I don't know where your lips have been," Cassidy smiled sweetly, then feigning a look of dawning. "Actually, I do. Possibly scarier."
Snickering cruelly, the brunette surveying the courtyard behind her. Most of campus had showed up to see the trip depart, if only for the sake of having something to do. Over in a shadowy corner, perched on a bench surrounded by low hanging tree branches, her sharp eyes could make out the form of Annette Hargrove snuggling with Patrick Bale, her boyfriend of a few weeks now. Interesting.
Sheila's sob broke her trance, and Cassidy refocused her attention on the couple at hand. Watching the way Michael's hand lingered on hers for as long as possible as Jason guided Sheila towards the bus, she thought perhaps this would be a little harder than she thought. Giving him a strictly platonic, comforting hug, she felt his hand briefly brush against her tight ass.
Then again, maybe not.
Jason's cocky gaze caught hers as the bus began to pull away. He was confident, as he began to roll slowly away from Prestridge University, that this weekend could bring him everything he wanted. Only feet away, rooted to the spot with an evil glimmer in her cold brown eyes was a person who thought quite the opposite.
----------------
Yeah, there's really no excuse for why I haven't updated for the past week. I've just been kind of busy. Well, I'm back, and you can expect quite a few updates during the next week because I've got a few days off. Unless, of course, I'm neglecting you to finish Beyond Good and Evil, because I've only got two weeks to do so. If that is the case, please e-mail, don't crucify. Thanks in advance.
Maggie: You might just get your amusement. Hint? Perhaps. I'll get to AtHoiA eventually, but I've got finish BGaE somehow. I'm thinking maybe I'll give that story a sequel, because I'm really kind of in love with it. So obviously I just kind of spoiled the ending for you, namely that it isn't like the movie lol. E-mail me with your thoughts lol.
B: Lol, you caught me. I just love sticking these guys in random spots. I really can't stop myself. I'm not sure why you're channeling Christian rock while reading this, but whatever floats your boat I guess…
WashedOut: Hehe. Thanks.
Nicole: Merci.
Arrowhead-water: Oops. I failed in updating quickly. Hopefully that doesn't bump me from your good side haha. Thank you for your kind review, and you're damn right Kathryn still wants revenge.
CheeryJana: You'll be curious for a wee bit longer.
Keri: Lol yeah, nobody wants Jason… for the time being. It's a little bit sad. The wall's on its way down, but the war's just heating up. Muah ha ha.
Katie: Lol I'm guessing you could pick out which character in this chapter represented A/S fans everywhere. Notice the play on his name? Lol think WRITER WE DESPISE. I'm flattered that I go in your non-existent quotes book. Haha
Thanks for reading guys. I love hearing from you.
Xo Sam