Chapter 7

Blair

I dragged my feet up the stairs of the Westwood mansion, my face was blank and void of any emotion. When the maids saw the all-too familiar look plastered, they knew it was wise to stay out of my path. I have lashed out in anger before, and it was never a good sight to see. It usually started with me verbally hurting others, and ending with me self-destructing in my room.

From a young age, I had already accepted the monstrosity instilled in me by my own two creators. I was an explosive that destroyed all of those who ignited my wrath. I was never taught to seek peace, I was taught to unleash hell.

It was dangerous for me to have close relations to people, given the fact that I hurt everything I touched. I knew it was careless to have even just a sliver of hope to find happiness, to escape all of this toxicity and madness. I was Blair Westwood. No matter where I went, darkness followed suit.

Still, a part of me didn't want to stop myself. It was moronic to listen to that part anyway.

Delilah's words seemed to resonate in my mind no matter how hard I tried to block them. Did I like her? I thought to myself. Of course I did not. Just because my sole focus was not on finding a man did not mean that I was a lesbian. The idea itself was preposterous.

Belleview was a town that was yet to progress. The people had never been accepting, always having specific standards that everyone was indirectly required to follow.

Three years ago, a boy who lived downtown tried to challenge the traditional views of the townspeople by coming out publicly. He was sixteen, a few years older than I back then. His mother was a good woman, respected for her dedication to the church. That was until he announced his love for the same sex.

He and his family were automatically shunned, and they disappeared in our sights for awhile. A year later, we found out that his mother had turned into an alcoholic and heroin addict, and the boy hung himself for all of the hate he got.

The tragic news was plastered everywhere for about a week, and instead of accepting their wrongs, the people chose to blame homosexuality for his suicide.

It was horrible, what happened. Although my parents were both devout Christians, I still had the freedom of having my own opinions. It was not that I was against being gay, it was just that I couldn't be. Even if I were, I would never find nor get myself a girlfriend, given that I saw nearly every girl I came across as a threat.

I was naturally defensive, slashing people with my vicious tongue if they got on my nerves. It was a mechanism I grew up with.

My aunt Donna witnessed that side of me for the first time when I was seven, and she knew it was going to develop a problem once I got older. Nearly everyone in both sides of my family knew who I truly was. Fortunately, I did not have to waste my time proving to them not to mess with me.

Love was certainly not written in my fate. In contrast to most people who grew up basking in their parents' love, mine never gave me the privilege of having that. Not once in my life did I ever hear them utter the three words and eight letters.

That was how I knew it was not in store for me. If I was never shown it, how was I supposed to know what it was and how it felt like? My heart had thick walls of ice around it, I doubted that someone or something could melt them.

A knock on my door interrupted my thoughts. It was Terrance, telling me that my mother wanted to talk to me in her office.

My nose scrunched and my brows furrowed. "Why is she here? I thought she left for Barcelona this morning."

The bulky man pretended to ignore the venom laced in my words. "Her flight was delayed. She'll be leaving later tonight," he answered, "She did say it was important."

Rolling my eyes, I got up from the bed and made my way to the end of the hall where her office was. It was a large room with a long table at the center. The curtains were shut, and the air condition was at its usual fifty degrees.

"What is it, mother?" my tone was uninterested as I took a seat at the end of the table, opposite from her.

The woman in her late forties had her glasses resting atop her graying hair. Like mine, her expression was tranquil but cold, her jade eyes piercing and lacking all signs of emotion left in her. If it were anyone else in my position, they would have probably froze to death under her gaze. I, however, grew up with it. It was a sight I always saw when I was a kid.

"I assume that you were shocked to hear that I was still in the country. Terrance told you that my flight was delayed, didn't he?" she asked, removing the glasses that sat on her head and placed it on the table. "Well if you must know, it wasn't. I had it canceled."

"Okay." was the only thing I could mutter. I had no interest in knowing why.

"I had a long talk with your father last night. You know that we rarely see each other and if we do, it's most likely going to start and end with us fighting. So...we both came to a decision for a divorce. I found out that he had been screwing his new secretary, Kyla, but I wasn't all-too-surprised. He and I have been cheating on each other for years, but you know that already, don't you? After all, you are my daughter and you like having a leverage on people to make use of them."

Hearing this did not shock me either. Their marriage was never built on true love, just money and business. They stopped acting married before I was born, aunt Donna said. They wanted to put up a front of being happy for the first few years, but eventually found it exhausting and irritating.

"It's about time that we both separate from this loveless marriage. We already got what we wanted, and we both want to see other people," she added, "Aren't you going to say anything?"

I wanted to laugh. "What do you want me to say? I knew this was bound to happen. It's not like the two of you ever acted like loving parents anyway."

She sighed, shaking her head. "You can't do anything right, can you? Did it ever occur to you that maybe I want even a bit of consolation?"

I scoffed. "You only want it because you want to feel something. You haven't felt anything in a long time. Even this divorce isn't affecting you. I won't waste my time."

"You ungrateful wench," she glared at me, "Get out of my office. I don't want to hear this."

Silent, I got up unbothered and left the room.