Page 120 of A Dead Man's B-Side
Another chuckle rumbled his chest. “Don’t be cheeky, it’s unbecoming. I only wish for you to see what Castle Hill truly has to offer. Everyone wants a place to belong, and being a part of the study body doesn’t ensure that, as I’m sure you know.”
He was right, I suppose. Castle Hill, or rather its students, didn’t take pride in showing loyalty to their peers. It was these groups that their devoted allegiance belonged to and will remain to until it ceases to benefit them.
“Alright, Callum. I’ll bite. I’ll join the Queen’s Club that you so insistently wish for me to do. You need only tell me my role. You are, after all, the president.”
He returned back to the play in front of him and sighed. “Flattery can only open so many doors.”
“Well, it’s a good thing I don’t indulge in such practices unless it's useful.”
In silence, we remained focused on the actors in front of us. Callum twitching or grunting every time he felt something didn't meet his expectations. I wouldn’t be able to understand, considering I found their acting more than exemplary.
The girl in front of us stood on shaky legs and seemed to be quarreling with the new actor who’d sauntered onto the stage in confident steps.
“What is it that I have so lamentably done to deserve this? Is my devotion to you never sufficient? Is my worship of you, my–”
“I am your husband!” He cried out. “And yet you willfully choose to invest the time of your existence, the existence Iallowyouto live out, with this…” His lips curled as his hateful eyes slid to the ‘dead’ boy laying in the middle of the stage. “Mortal.”
He’d said the words as if he wasn't one himself. Although perhaps he wasn’t. From my understanding, this was a rehearsal, so the students remained in their uniforms, despite the untucked dress shirts and necks vacant of ties.
The girl forced her words through thick sobs. “All of this… over your jealousy? You killed the man I love because of an emotion you’d debased and slaughtered mortals for feeling?” Her eyes turned angry, and her words clearer as she spoke through clenched teeth, “You have taken my beating heart in your palm and crushed it like a spoiled fruit because of something you will never understand. You ridicule these mortals for theirfickleage and warring mind. But hear this, on the Oracle, I curse you a life of loveless sacrifice. Every act you take will be in vain. Every word you speak will be blown away like a weak and weightless leaf. So that you, too, may understand what it feels like to give your heart and soul, only for it to producenothing. No loyalty, no love, not even hatred will be evoked by you. You will live a long and empty eternity,wishingfor mortality to take you away from it. I curse you. I curse you. I will curse you until my last and dying breath if I could!”
I felt her words speak to me as if I too was betrayed by my betrothed. As if I too was capable of feeling so deeply.
Callum, on the other hand, was too busy flipping through his copy of the script and cutting and rewriting lines, jotting down notes on the sides and corners before the actors, all three on stage,straightened. Emotions fell from their faces like melted wax as they faced the front and awaited Callum’s word.
Without meaning to, I looked to him as well. Waiting in anticipation for what he might say–or do. “Dabria…” The girl swallowed, her short bob framing her face, and now, wide eyes. “You will do well in life. Although, you won’t live a life free of jealousy.”
She brightened, her spine perking up and allowing her to appear taller, as her eyes almost seemed to sparkle.
And then he stood, a proud smile gracing his face, though it didn’t seem to blend in well with his sharp features. Nevertheless, he strolled towards the side of the stage and moved towards the trio. I watched with my grip tightening around the armrest, as he made his way closer to Dabria, lifting both hands to cup her cheeks. “I will make you a star. I can promise you that.”
She preened under the attention, and from what I knew of Callum, one should. He wasn't exactly a kind person who spread words of support out of the goodness of his soul.
And then he turned his head to the boy next to her. The immortal husband.
Ah, there it is.
He slid one step over and set his eyes upon him, his predatory gaze making the silence thicker, or maybe it was Callum’s imposing presence alone.
A beat passed, then two. No one moved. Aside from myself, I was sure no one even breathed. Callum stood so still, I momentarily mistook him for a perfectly sculpted statue.
And then, in the silence of the theatre, a slap echoed down to my nerves as the boy’s face whipped to the side from the pressure of the blow.
Open palm.
I lived through a dirty memory in a flash, there and gone, and I couldn’t help but cringe at the pins suddenly pricking every inch of my tight skin.
This is different.
I’ve seen my fair share of violence, and I’ve lived it. But there’s a wide berth of difference, a thick line between the equal and unequal. I’ve fought strangers for food, for stealing my cash, for a drunk prick’s jeering. I’ve done it all. Except, it's never made me recoil like the slap of a young child’s blameless cheeks as his father stood looming over him.
I blinked.
You are Alexandr Miroslav.
Alexandr Miroslav’s past doesn’t exist.
My resolve strengthened as I forced myself to remain seated. Despite every muscle in my body begging me to leave.
