Page 9 of The Devil
“Affirmative, my slut of a friend. I’ve decided Helena is strictly off limits to everyone, but especially to you.” I look at him with an ounce of humor and a pound of warning. “If anyone is going to be darkening her virgin sheets, it will be me.”
“Virgin too?” Eric gasps, blowing out a stream of air while pulling his brows together to form a deep crease, as though thinking how good it would be to dive inside of her for the very first time. For a moment, I remember what it felt like when I had beaten Tommy Slater to a pulp, when I had last felt something other than indifference or mild amusement. Only a moment, however, before I force the feeling away again. “I dunno, Hastings, I think I might need to sidestep your approval and go after that anyway.”
“She’s not athat, Matthews, and if you so much as kiss her on the cheek, I.Will.Bury.You!”
“Woah, Hastings!” He laughs loudly, being that he can only manage to do so at an insufferable volume. “Have you actually met a girl who you give a shit about?”
“Only the virgin part,” I lie, shrugging my shoulders like he’s so used to seeing me do, for I am fast growing bored of this conversation and have the urge to throw Eric out.
“She’s not going to let you have that, trust me,” he says, leaning in and winking in my direction before grabbing a handful of peanuts to throw into his mouth. I smile while conjuring up an image of him choking on one of them.
“Care to make it interesting, Matthews?” I look away to see Owen glancing our way, his expression is one of suspicion, and I half wonder if he’s been listening in to our ridiculous banter. I’ve seen the way he looks at Helena, like a father protecting one of his own from the big, bad, wolf, which could be either one of us right now. Pity for him, we’re both depraved when it comes to playing with others, particularly, I’m sad to say, with the fairer sex.
“Always,” Eric replies, shrugging before leaning in even closer to hear what I have to say.
“If I pop her cherry by the end of summer, I get your sporty little motor out there.” I refer to his new Lotus out front, both custom-made and his pride and joy. If I win, which I will, not only will he lose his beautiful car, but his father will no doubt cut his allowance, if not stop it altogether. “If I don’t, which is highly unlikely, you can have my recently purchased Maserati.”
Eric’s eyes shoot up to the sky before a huge grin spreads across his arrogant face; I’m not proposing he risks anything I am not willing to lose myself.
“You’re on, Hastings,” he announces before shaking my hand from across the table. “But don’t think I’m going to make it easy for you. The only rule is we don’t mention the bet. That’s all; anything else is all part of the fun!”
“You don’t need to tell me the rules, Matthews,” I utter. “Don’t try to insult my intelligence when we all know I’m the brains of this outfit.”
Helena
It's now Friday morning and I’ve only just let go of my anger from yesterday. It had stayed balled up inside of me like some sort of ugly virus, making me feel sick and exhausted all at the same time. Cam and Nate do a pretty good job of winding me up, but Lucius and Eric, the seemingly wholesome-looking guy who was anything but, are on another level when it comes to grating on my nerves. I’ve never felt so disrespected or humiliated in my entire life. Being ignored by the opposite sex is infinitely more appealing than being talked about like I’m a piece of meat for them to argue over, especially right in front of me. It was only after talking to Mom last night that I managed to wake up and throw it all away. She’s always known how to calm me, even if she doesn’t know she’s needing to.
At midday, I begin potting up some tomatoes to go inside the greenhouse. I’ve grown fond of gardening, for it too, knows how to calm me. It appeals to my creative mind as well as keeps me busy in a place that still feels so alien. However, the sound of approaching footsteps suddenly fills me with a sense of dread. I can’t bear the thought of having to face Lucius after I’ve only just let go of my temper. When I finally turn to face him head on, I am pleasantly surprised to find that the footsteps belong to my Aunt Jen. For a moment or two, I stand there gawking, not quite believing it’s her. I’ve been here for over a week now and not seen her once. A fact I haven’t told my parents because I know they’d be annoyed; I don’t want to be that kid that tattles on their best friend just to get them into trouble.
When it does finally sink in, we both scream fondly at each other before I throw my arms around her and hug her tightly. My whacky Aunt Jen is dressed immaculately but still has a slight boho look leftover from her days before she married Paul. Her long, flowing red hair always looks stunning without any effort, and she fills her long maxi dress with all the right kinds of curves and edges. A wide-brimmed summer hat protects her freckled skin from the sun while her large sunglasses cover almost half of her face.
“How is my favorite niece?” she asks as she squeezes me to the point of not being able to breathe. “I’m so sorry I haven’t been here to welcome you, but work has been crazy, and I knew Merial would take care of you.”
Hmmm, well she sort of has, to begin with, maybe.
“I’m youronlyniece,” I remind her. “Are you about for a bit now?”
She pouts at the same time as she looks to the ground with a sheepish expression. My heart automatically sinks with disappointment; I could do with someone other than Owen to talk to. Someone who isn’t going to frustrate me to the point of screaming, like her evil stepson and Meri’s ridiculous friends.
“Afraid not, darling, Paul and I are about to shoot off. We’re away for the next week. He has business meetings in New York, and I’ve decided to go with him.”
“Oh, that sounds fun,” I say, unable to hide the distinct sadness from my voice. I suddenly feel like I need to spend time with someone who at least reminds me of my parents. She seems to feel even more guilty when she takes in my poor attempts to not look let down.
“I promise you, when I get back, we’ll spend some time together,” she says before hugging me again. “Apart from my lack of good aunty skills, are you ok here? Anything I can get for you before I go?”
“Actually, do you have any painkillers? I feel one of my heads coming on.” I’ve been trying to ignore the tell-tale signs all morning, but now that my vision is starting to go on the fritz, I can no longer deny it’s there, waiting to pounce on me with its full weight. “I’ve already had the flashes of light blocking my vision for the past half hour.”
“Oh, Helena, perhaps I shouldn’t go. Hang on…” She trails off as she reaches inside her bag to retrieve her phone, which she then starts scanning through. A really selfish part of me hopes she won’t go, that she’ll stay with me to be the Mom I can’t have right now.
“No, no, I’m fine, honestly,” I lie, beginning to flap my hands about in the air.
“I’m going to call our doctor,” she explains, “I know you’ve needed stronger stuff in the past, so I’m going to explain the situation and leave you with his number. He’s brilliant and Paul pays him enough, so don’t worry about calling him if you need to. Now, go to bed and I’ll drop the tablets in on the way out. No arguments. Get going!”
Still battling my emotions between relief, guilt, and disappointment, I eventually settle on saluting her way in defeat. At the end of the day, I know I’m only going to end up passing out anyway, so it’s not like I’d be conscious if she did stay. She’s probably right about heading to bed, though, it makes sense to try and stop it from progressing any further.
Once inside my room, I close all the curtains in an attempt to make it as dark as possible, then slide into bed. The flashes have already progressed to the point where I can see more sparkles of white light than anything else, and when my head finally hits the pillow, a sharp pain radiates around my forehead and deep into my eye sockets. All I can do is try and sleep it off before the nausea starts. Jen brings me two of her regular painkillers, which I manage to down before falling into an agitated sleep. It isn’t at all restful; it’s full of dreams and has me slipping in and out of consciousness.
When I finally wake, my head feels like someone has taken a hammer to it and I have to go and throw up in the bathroom. Once I feel like I’ve expelled everything I’ve consumed within the last few days, I only have enough energy to rest my forehead against the toilet seat. The coolness is soothing, and I no longer care about how unhygienic it is. All I can think about is how much I want to cut my head open and place my brain into a bucket of ice. Every time I retch, it feels like a thousand knives are being pierced through my head, which only makes me want to throw up even more. I’m caught in a vicious cycle of pain and sickness. My vision is still blurry, and I feel extremely weak and exhausted.