TOXIC

Olivier's blood boiled while she stomped her way across the sidewalk on the way to her apartment, her smartphone held in a vice grip. She made no effort to hide the fury that pulsed through her veins, garnering the occasional look of concern on the way. Striding up the stairs, she shoved the front door open and made a beeline for the elevator directly to her left.

The bellhop behind the front desk raised his hand. "Ma'am, wait!"

"Back off!" Olivier warned. She pressed the button for the sixth floor, cursing under her breath as the elevator doors shut. The hum of the machine filled the room as an advertisement for a new brand of soda played on the screen behind her. Her chest inflated with anxiety, and she tapped her foot against the floor to alleviate it. Thoughts of punching her boyfriend swirled around with images of him fighting back. "Damn it," she hissed.

The elevator dinged as it reached the sixth floor. The doors opened, and Olivier stepped out into the hallway. Hesitation quickly replaced her fury, and the urge to run overcame her. Swallowing, she turned around just as the elevator's doors shut.

"Wait, no!" she said, trying to pull the doors apart. The elevator was already on its way down to its next occupant. "Urgh!" She rocked her lower jaw side to side, equal parts angry with herself and scared. She turned her head toward the stairs to her left. It almost felt as if they were calling to her, promising her that if she simply descended back down to the main hall and played the ignorant girlfriend, then complete bliss awaited her.

What a lie.

Olivier pocketed her smartphone and continued her march to her apartment. Her heart pounded against her chest as the raunchy image of her boyfriend in bed with another woman stuck in her mind, as if glued to her very brain. Silas was quick to unsend the message, but Olivier had snapshotted it before he could undo the damage. Pulling it up was painful, serving to remind her that he didn't love her anymore. Or, perhaps, maybe he never did.

Olivier stopped at her door and plucked her key from her skirt pocket. The lock clicked at her turn, and as she turned the doorknob to open it, the door suddenly snapped open. A yellow eye set in a face of stony pale skin peered at her between the crack, Olivier's entry stopped short by the door chain. The man ran his long fingers through his grey hair.

"You're back early," he said.

"Cut the crap. You know why I'm here, Silas," Olivier said, crossing her arms. "Where is she?"

Silas frowned. "Where's who? Who the fuck are you even talking about?" He sighed. "Are you having another one of your fits?"

"My fits?" Olivier balked, raising her voice. "Are we going to pretend that you didn't send me a picture of you and another woman getting it on in our bed? Were you trying to brag to your friends again?"

"Dumb bitch. I'm getting real fucking tired of being talked to like this," Silas growled. "It was one time, and I apologized." One time, he said. Yet, Olivier could count almost a dozen occasions. "Besides, did you even check our text history?"

"Yeah. Sure did. You unsent the message so I wouldn't see." Olivier reached into her skirt pocket to retrieve her smartphone. She'd have to look at the picture again. The picture of Silas screwing another woman. Her hands were shaking, and the memory of him striking her across the face resurfaced. She scrolled down to her phone's gallery, clicked the image, then turned the phone around so he could see. "Care to explain how you found your dick in another woman like that? Or are you going to tell me some nonsense, like she just tripped and fell over on top of you?"

Silas chuckled. "You are fucking insane. Truly. To think that you would go so far as to doctor an image to sully my name. You plan on distributing this to the press, too? Mess up my dad's reputation?"

"That's all you care about, isn't it? You and your dad's precious fucking reputations. You think I would resort to blackmail like that?"

"I don't think it's beyond a caddy bitch like you." As soon as the words left his mouth, he reached toward her for her phone. Olivier saw it coming, but even so, Silas was quicker, and he snatched the phone from her grip, snaking it through the crack and out of her reach.

"Hey, you bastard! Give it back!" Olivier bellowed, squeezing her arm through the door's crack. Using his foot, Silas slammed the door on her elbow, eliciting a yelp. "Agh! Silas, let me go! Please, you're hurting me!"

"Looks like you forgot how this goes," Silas said, chuckling as he held her phone at a distance. "So, looks like you need a refresher." He leaned against the door, and Olivier pounded against the wood for him to release her. "Impeccable work, babe. This looks like the real thing."

"It is the real thing," Olivier growled through gritted teeth. Silas pushed harder. "Please, s-stop! It hurts!" Her arm tingled as he pushed. She could feel the door pressing against her bones, and the muscle below her elbow was growing cold with the increased pressure.

"You need to be taught a lesson, so just shut the fuck up while I fix this. Then I'll let you go."

Olivier nodded, and the first of what would be many tears fell down her cheek. This was just the way it went. Each time she would stand up to him, and each time he would knock her down. She whimpered and sobbed quietly while he worked through her phone. She drew an onlooker across the hall, and Olivier shook her head. The young woman frowned but ushered her child into their apartment.

At last, Silas let her go. Olivier gasped and pulled away, cradling her arm. She gently pressed where the door had been pushed against her skin. It was tender, and waves of pain came in and out. It would bruise.

"Here. Fixed it for you," Silas said, throwing the phone against the wall behind her. It made a crunch as it collided. "Oh. Whoops. Hope that didn't do any damage."

"You son of a bitch," she hissed under her breath as she retrieved the phone. Two large cracks traveled across the screen. If not for the protective cover, Silas probably would've broken it.

"What was that?" Silas asked. "Are you saying weird fucking things again?" He clicked his tongue. "Look, why don't you get the hell out of here before I call the authorities?"

"It's my apartment too, you creep," Olivier said, beads of sweat coating her forehead. "Besides, you would never. Your father's precious reputation means too much to you."

Silas regarded her with a furrowed brow, clicked his tongue, then slammed the door in her face. Olivier pocketed her phone with her good arm, wiped the sheen of sweat that'd been collecting on her face, then knocked on the door.

"Just let me in to confirm if there's another girl in there," Olivier pleaded. The nonsensical part of her was winning again. The part that said everything was fine, and that this was somehow all in her head. Memories of when they shared quiet lunches together, kissed under the moonlight, and snuck out late caressed her in their warm embrace. Desperation took over, and her heart surrendered for what must have been the hundredth time. "I… I love you, and I just… don't want to get hurt anymore."

Silence.

"Silas?" Olivier repeated.

"You need to go," Silas said from behind the door. "Cool off, then maybe I'll let you back in."

Olivier swallowed, and without another word, she left the townhouse.

---

Olivier kept her head bowed while she waited for one of the servants to answer the door. The Vasseur family was one of the most prestigious names in the city. Its very presence commanded respect and obedience. Speaking with a Vasseur may as well have meant that you were speaking with royalty. At least, if your name was Grey or Louis.

"You got to be kidding me. What the hell is taking so long?" Olivier hissed under her breath. The pain in her elbow had worsened. In a way, at least. Unlike the sharp, cold crunch of a wooden door, the pain had reduced to a dull ache, throbbing with the beat of her pulse. Focusing on her little brother was all that kept her from screaming.

At last, a man with an impressive mustache and greying hair answered the door. He was dressed like all of Mother and Father's servants—black suit, red tie, priceless shoes that you could eat off. The constant show of prestige made her sick.

"Madam Olivier," the man said, bowing with a hand clapped to his chest. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"Save me the song and dance, Franklin," Olivier said, brushing his shoulder as she moved past him. "Point me to my brother and I'll leave you alone."

He raised a brow and pointed to a room at the left of the main hall—the study.

Olivier nodded, keeping her breath calm and steady to help alleviate the pain she felt. It worked somewhat. She strode to the thick dark door, turned the knob, and pushed it open slowly. Most people would've knocked, but given the circumstances of her younger brother, such niceties were pointless.

"Where did you go?" she muttered as she looked to both sides.

The study was a poor word to use for what was a monstrosity of a library. Whether her parents actually read any of the books, she had no idea. The rumor had been, they originally filled the shelves for her and her brother's sake. As time went on, however, and they became wealthier and more involved with Livion's continued rule as mayor of the city, their interest waned, and now the books were merely shelves for the servants to dust.

A smile tugged at the corners of Olivier's mouth as she caught her younger brother reading a thick book in a corner of the room. He sat in a comfortable leather chair, positioned behind a desk like the next mayor. A three-dimensional astrolabe garnished the desk to the boy's side, offering him a studious air.

Olivier strode to the front of the desk, tapping the wood in front of him so he would see. He gasped, then looked up, equal parts shocked and happy to see her. He set the book down to his side, then formed the sign language for "Olivier! I missed you!"

Olivier smiled wider, reciting the words as she spoke back to him in sign language. "I missed you too, Coy. Are you feeling okay today?"

"Yes!" he said, excitedly forming the signs. She always admired his enthusiasm. Despite being deaf and sickly, he never let it define him or slow him down. How a boy two and a half years younger than her could be so happy and filled with energy, she had no idea. "Today's one of my better days. How about you?"

"I'm doing great too," Olivier lied. Coy was aware of her strained relationship with Silas, but she didn't want to be the bringer of bad news. He'd had enough of that lately, what with their parents constantly breathing down his neck about his future. "Are Mom and Dad treating you all right?"

Coy shrugged, then rolled his eyes. "About as well as they're capable of, I suppose." He paused, clicking his tongue forming the sign for 'money.' "You know how Dad is about money."

"Unfortunately, yes. What's going on now?"

Coy shook his head. "Nothing you haven't heard before. How's Silas?"

A dick.

"He's doing okay. I'm taking care of a few errands while he tidies up the apartment."

Coy raised a disbelieving brow. "Silas tidying? Come on, Sis, what's really going on?"

Olivier paused, formed the hand signs for 'actually,' then thought again. "We can talk about it another time. We're just having some difficulties."

Coy shook his head. "As long as he hasn't hurt you."

Olivier refrained from touching the bruise on her elbow. She'd pulled her sleeve down to make sure no one would see it. The last time this topic had come up, Coy nearly made himself sick with worry, and she wouldn't be able to forgive herself if she was the cause for his hospitalization.

As she moved to itch her eye, she caught a small red streak on the sleeve of her shirt, stopped, then hid it behind her back, cursing under her breath. Coy wouldn't be able to hear her, but he'd developed a good sense for reading lips whenever she spoke to him using sign language.

Damn it.

Coy frowned. "You okay, Oli?"

Olivier swallowed, then nodded. While her haemolacria was mostly harmless, it was alarming and gave others an easy way to tell if she'd been crying. She'd made sure to clean up before coming over, but she missed the very clear streak on her sleeve. After rolling up the sleeve behind her, she moved to roll up her other sleeve to avoid arousing suspicion. Coy was much too smart for his own good, and even though he was a few years younger than her, he could run circles around her given the right circumstances.

I hope that hides it well enough.

"Where are Mom and Dad?" Olivier asked. She'd intended to say hello to them too, but perhaps this was a blessing in disguise. Mother was always too busy telling people how to walk, how to think, how to dress. It came with being the owner of your own clothing line. Dad, on the other hand, well… Olivier was convinced he was more of a dog than an actual human. All Livion—the current residing mayor—had to do was ask him to jump, and her father would ask, 'how high?'

"Dad's helping Livion with his next campaign. Mom is—"

As Coy continued to make the signs, the front door opened, and their crone of a mother's voice echoed throughout the main room. Olivier raised a finger to stop her brother. She strode to the door of the library, peeking through the crack to see her mother waving her finger around like a conductor's baton. 'Clean this, make that call, why are you standing around?' She could practically recite the tone to perfection. Olivier shook her head, then withdrew back into the library.

Can't go two minutes without barking orders, can you, Mother?

"Looks like Mother's home," Olivier made the signs to Coy. Her brother nodded in understanding. The less time she spent around their parents, the better. If they wanted her to maintain a cordial relationship with Silas, then she would do everything in her power to avoid them. Within reason, of course. "Do you need anything before I go?"

Coy shook his head. "Just promise me to take care of yourself. I don't trust Silas. Not after what he's done to you in the past."

Olivier never knew how to respond to such statements. Few knew of what was truly going on between them. Coy had been her shoulder to cry on. Though, if he'd heard what Silas pulled today, then he would no doubt end up in the hospital.

Besides, going to the hospital meant she'd be reminded of an old friend of hers, and worse yet, her failure to protect her when she needed her most. Despite her best attempts to move on, her old friend had a tendency to rise back to the surface whenever it suited her.

She hated that.

"I will. I promise."

Olivier turned tail and left before any further bad blood could be spilled. Stick around long enough, and it was only a matter of time before more awful memories were unearthed. She offered her mother little more than a piercing glare and a casual wave as the two brushed shoulders on her way out.

Her mother said nothing, and that suited her just fine.

---

Clothes tumbled in the machines, blanketing Olivier with a brand of white noise that proved to be more therapeutic than she could've ever imagined. The idea of having her clothes washed and dried at a public laundromat was initially perturbing when she'd moved out of her home. After the same ten servants have done your laundry for most of your life, she'd begun to think that cleaning clothes was beneath her.

Now, though, she wouldn't have it any other way.

With ten more minutes left on her batch, she took up an old plastic picnic chair and sat down, hunched forward with her smartphone in hand, and a sucker in her mouth. She scrolled down to Maxis's name, struggling to get her mind off her old friend. She tapped the screen with her thumb, hoping for a distraction that would never come. Leaving wasn't an option. Not while there were still clothes in the dryer.

Damn it.

"Maybe I've put it off for too long," she muttered as she typed out the words on her keypad. She paused after she completed her text, then sent it to Maxis.

Hey, Max. Can I ask u for a favor?

Maxis is typing…

Olivier swallowed and shut her eyes. She couldn't take it back now.

Yeah, what's up?

She muttered the words as she typed them, pausing for a moment before sending the message.

I think… it's about time I saw Terra. Will u go with me to visit her?

Maxis is typing…

Moments later, his text came through.

Oh totally! How's next week sound? Ren's got me doing stuff with him this weekend, so im a bit busy.

Olivier frowned. Those two were like peas in a pod.

kk Next week, then. Thanks, Max.

Yeah, ofc! I know she'll be happy to see u! =)

She clicked the power to her phone, and the screen went black. She let the device dangle from her pointer finger and thumb, rocking it back and forth in thought.

Can she even hear us anymore?