DISCLAIMER : I do not own any of these characters, from Twilight or Cruel Intentions, or the part of the plotline that comes from Cruel Intentions. I also do not own any HSM characters that make appearances or may be mentioned and I don't own the Taylor Swift song that appears in this chapter.
A/N: Big thank you to everyone who reads, and a HUGE thank you to everyone who reviews.
I realize that many people think that Taylor Swift is overrated and overused, but the lyrics in this song help with an important realization that will be needed for a later chapter. I'm going to # mark # one specific thought during the song that is really important later on.
This is a revealing chapter specifically for Rosalie and Kathryn. I sent this to my friend and she admitted to actually crying while reading this chapter. So far, this is my favorite chapter that I've written and my second favorite scene that I planned out overall in the story, so ENJOY!
If Hearts Could Explode
Arianna Lillian
Chapter 8
Rosalie couldn't get Emmett's words out of her head. Forever and always, she repeated in her head. She got into her screaming red BMW M3 and put the top down. She cranked the radio and Taylor Swift's "I'd Lie" began to play. Rosalie sighed thinking about the lyrics.
I don't think that passenger seat
Has ever looked this good to me
He and I fight over who gets to drive. I prefer driving. And he does look good in my baby.
He tells me about his night
And I count the colors in his eyes
Three in certain lights. Light brown almost golden, with a lot of green, and sometimes hints of blue.
He'll never fall in love he swears As he runs his fingers through his hair
Well that's true. He brags up and down about being above love.
I'm laughing 'cause I hope he's wrong
And I don't think it ever crossed his mind
My God how I hope he's wrong. ## I wouldn't hate it if he fell in love with me… But no, that could end badly…I would just screw everything up and break his heart. I could never let it happen. ##
He tells a joke I fake a smile
That I know all his favorite songs
Emmett has really corny jokes. He likes rap a little bit, but I don't let him listen to it around me and he loves rock. Well, mostly whatever's on the radio, but he really likes Sweet Child O' Mine.
I could tell you his favorite colors green.
True. But he likes a darker green, not neon, kind of like a hunter green. He says it reminds him of his animalistic side.
He loves to argue, born on the seventeenth
LOVES to argue. And he was born on 17th.
His sister's beautiful, he has his father's eyes
No sister, but Emmett does have his father's eyes; they're exquisite.
And if you ask me if I love him, I'd lie
I would lie my ass off.
He looks around the room
Innocently overlooks the truth
Shouldn't a light go on?
Doesn't he know I've had him memorized for so long?
Emmett likes to avoid the obvious. If he really tried, he could see through me.
He sees everything black and white
Never let nobody see him cry
Even I've never seen him cry.
I don't let nobody see me wishing he was mine
Alice can tell though, can't she?
I could tell you his favorite colors green
He loves to argue, born on the seventeenth
His sister's beautiful, he has his father's eyes
And if you ask me if I love him, I'd lie
I could never admit it.
He stands there then walks away
My God, if I could only say
I'm holding every breathe for you
I can barely catch my breath around him.
He'd never tell you but he can play guitar
True. And literally no one else knows. I accidentally caught him one time. He's amazing at it actually.
I think he can see through everything but my heart
True. He sees through almost all of my bullshit.
First thought when I wake up is, "My god, he's beautiful"
So I put on my make up and pray for a miracle
I hate to admit that there's actually a lot of truth to this.
Rosalie groaned and changed the channel, not wanting to fight through another love song thinking about Emmett. Her phone vibrated, and her heart pounded, hoping it was Emmett. It wasn't; it was Jacob. Rosalie scolded herself for acting like such an immature schoolgirl. The text read: I'm here, but take your time. I don't need to rush.
Rosalie sighed, immediately noticing the difference between Jacob and Emmett. She pulled up to her estate and turned the car off. She got out and saw Jacob in an electric blue Dodge Viper SRT-10 with two white racing stripes running up the middle. Jacob grinned from ear to ear when he saw Rosalie's enchanted expression. "I guess this means you like it," he said and opened the passenger door, then got it.
"What- what are you doing," she asked, barely noticing that Jacob sat in the passenger seat as she was too busy practically drooling over the car.
Jacob smiled again. "James told me not to let you get your hands on it, so I figured it was all the more reason to let you drive."
Rosalie slowly ran her hand along the curves of the car as she made her way around the front to the driver's side door. "Holy fuck, Jake. This is beautiful." She was mesmerized as she slid into the driver's seat. "You might want to buckle up," Rosalie said with a wicked grin and slammed her foot down on the accelerator.
"Ms. Merteuil, I have package for you," a tall, burly man said, walking into the house. "I was told it was to be delivered to you personally," he said with a heavy Italian accent. "I was also told that you must read this, as is very important. I sorry it took this long for you to get package, but I was told to wait about one year." He set the package down and walked out.
Kathryn was aggravated. She didn't want to deal with some package that some moronic Italian dropped off. Turns out it wasn't even a package; it was only a letter. Kathryn analyzed the intricate handwriting that decorated the front of the envelope; it looked strangely familiar.
Kathryn walked into the room she was staying in and sat on her bed. She poured herself a drink and downed it before opening the letter. Kathryn nearly fell over when she saw the signature.
Dearest Kathryn,
Yes, it's me, Sebastian. Don't get your hopes up though, I'm not elaborately faking my death; I wrote this in the hospital before I died and ordered them to wait almost a full year.
Now you and I both hate apologies, so I'm not going to bother, though I am going to commend you, thank you (very slightly), and possibly berate you, but I'm also going to explain things and confess a few things. First of all, I'd like to commend you on your tremendous acting throughout our entire relationship (for lack of a better word).
I'm going to briefly thank you before I move on to berating you. Thank you, Kathryn, for forcing me to see what I was too blinded to see at the time. Now for the berating: the only reason my vision was cleared was because you put me on my deathbed! You're a conniving slut and who doesn't care about anyone but herself. So here's my first confession. I got pissed that you were bragging about Court. I hated that some Neanderthal like him could have you, but I couldn't. I all but threw Cecile at him. Yes, that's right. I introduced Cecile and Court and helped to arrange him dumping you. I thought it would bring you down a step or so, but you, as you so majestically do, rose back up and wanted revenge. I did love that about you. It was a beautiful sight. The ends of your lips would just slightly turn up, then I would comment on you scheming about something and you would grin like a Cheshire cat. It was amazing the way your eyes gleamed when you thought of how you would destroy someone. I could almost see the reflection of the havoc you caused in those mesmerizing green eyes of yours.
You see, together we were a force to be reckoned with. We understood each other and, in the most twisted way possible, we cared for each other. It was us against the world and most of the time, we won. It's only fitting that we would be the ones to destroy one another.
Unfortunately, I can't take credit for your demise. That was, surprisingly, all Annette's idea. She pitched it to me right after I was admitted into the hospital. I needed to think so I sent her to get the journal, knowing that it would take at least an hour or so. I took that time to think. While I was thinking, I found myself subconsciously waiting for you to come see me. You never did, you cold-hearted bitch. But never mind that; that was what I loved about you.
Annette returned with my journal and explained her whole plan and specifically stated that she would never let you have my car (I did win that dreadful bet after all). Believe what you will, but I did my best to deter her from publishing my journal. I didn't give it up to that bitch after years of guarding it like Fort Knox just to have her show everyone. I imagine she went through with it anyway; she said she was going to. I apologize that you finally read my journal in that fashion, if Annette did in fact publish it. Once Annette left, I began this letter.
And after mentally sifting through everything we went through together, I found that I can't bring myself to hate you. Perhaps its because part of me hated you all along, but as you always liked to say "hate is just another form of passion." I can just hear your snarky comments at this letter. Well guess what princess, you fucking killed me, so the least you could do is read my fucking letter.
Anyway, back to the day when things really went all to hell. You threatened my reputation; well played, baby. So I told Annette that she meant nothing to me and honestly, it shook me to my core. I tried to shrug it off, so I came home for my reward. God how long I had waited for that reward. God, how long I wanted to fuck your brains out. But you had other plans, didn't you, sis? You don't fuck losers, right? You called me a toy, Kathryn, a motherfucking toy, just like all your other moronic lackeys. The culmination of our relationship was that I was none other than a toy to you.
Then you told me how in love with Annette I was and I robotically went back to her, begging for forgiveness. In hindsight, I think it was to prove you wrong and to spite you more than anything. You specifically told me that I had blown it, and I was determined to get Annette back, thus proving you wrong. Then to spite you, I went back to Annette, the girl you hated, and gave her my trophy that you had been dying to read.
But now, lying here in this bland hospital room, I've realized a few things. When you plotted a scheme, you were right about nearly everything, but in that one climactic moment that ruined us, you were wrong. You called me a toy, which we both know is a lie. You told me that I was very much in love with Annette, which I've come to realize is also a lie. You told me that it amused you to make me ashamed of my love for her, which is also a lie. I've come to realize that I enjoy watching the turmoil leading up to someone's demise as much as I enjoy planning it and setting that plan into motion while you thrive on the scheming and the carnage. You and I would both relish in planning where to drop the bomb; I would enjoy their scared faces when they were worried about a bomb; and you, you would stick around to watch each and every person die in the explosion. I can just hear you now, "is that your final analysis Dr. Freud?" But that's what I loved about you. And because of this analysis, I've also come to realize that you didn't mean for that cab to hit me. You sent Ronald after me probably because you were bitter that I went straight to Annette and didn't mope about you, so you wanted him to rough me up a bit. I know you didn't want me dead because you're too calculating for that, and as I said before you like to watch your victims suffer, and you didn't even visit me on my deathbed.
And now for the climax of my letter, though, knowing you, you merely skimmed through the rest of this letter to get to what you consider "the good part." Next will come my confession. My only regret is waiting until I was dying to confess this, which is why I had my man wait a year before revealing this to you. Kathryn, somewhere in our twisted relationship, I fell in love with you. At some point it turned from worship and obsession to love. Regrettably, a happy life together was not in the cards for us, and I'm sure you would never admit your love for me, but seeing as I have nothing to lose, I've admitted it. I'm in love with you, Kathryn Merteuil.
With all my love,
Sebastian
P.S. I did win our final bet you know. So I'm saving you a seat in hell so that when you join me, I can finally cash in and fuck your brains out, then we can take over this place.
It was at that point that Kathryn broke down. She threw things. She cursed. She threw some more things. She tossed her glass into the fireplace and just screaming. She kicked things and overturned her desk. She threw the chair against the wall and smashed a few picture frames. She picked up her phone to throw it but it vibrated in her hand. How's my little sister doing? A text from Sharpay read. She's fan-fucking-tastic Kathryn bitterly replied. It was then that Kathryn made a pact with herself to be devoid of emotion aside from Rosalie and maybe Sharpay, but she would never let anyone or anything make her feel the way Sebastian's letter made her feel. Not only had she fucked up her chance at love, but she had killed her one, true love, her soul mate and somehow he found it within himself to love her all the more. Kathryn had barely come to terms with Sebastian's death and now here he was, confessing his love to her, the one thing she secretly wanted to hear from him but because she resented being passed over again, he was dead. Kathryn grabbed her secret stash of the one thing Sebastian truly hated about her, her addiction. She poured the white contents of the bag out and formed it into two lines. "One for you, brother dead," she whispered. No Kathryn wasn't going to over-dose, she refused to end her life for someone else, even Sebastian. That was what he loved about her. She smoothly inhaled one line and left the other. "How's that for spite, asshole," Kathryn said with a smug chuckle to her stepbrother.
