Infernal - CH. 11

"People that don't know what they are worth will always see their capture's wings, but never their tail." - Shannon L. Alder

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The burning liquid ran down my throat, and out of my mouth. Salty tears ran down my cheeks and fell onto the bathroom ground. My throat felt ablaze, rough. The smell of the chunks of food I had just spat out caused nausea, that clawed at my throat. I tried to tell myself that I shouldn't do it, that I had to force down the bile, but it was too late. My body wasn't used to it anymore – and my brain fired the signal to do so. Chunks of somewhat digested pasta were poured out of my spiting, choking mouth. My face was white, full of sweat and tears from all the hard work my body had done, but it kept on contracting violently, forcing every single bit out. I stumbled forward, but my body was too weak to hold me, so I sunk to my knees. The disgusting smell reached my nostrils, invaded them to tell me to keep going, but there was nothing left to go.

"Melea?"

I closed my eyes for a moment to stop myself from crying. No, no crying no more. I had cried enough for a lifetime. How would that help me anyway? Crying would only make things worse – it would show that not only my body was weak, but my mind was too.

I kneeled up to put down the toilet seat when I heard the quiet creak of the door opening. My hands were shaking and I put them down, but I couldn't look up to her, to my grandma. I couldn't see her concern, her worry, her breaking point. Because that would lead me to cry. Crying was for the weak. I had been weak enough the last few months. It was time to get myself together. I didn't deserve to feel these massive waves emotions. I only deserved to feel the pain.

My grandma looked at the toilet seat, and then looked at me. She couldn't see the sweat on my face, or the water in my eyes. She was blind. But she still knew.

I looked down, and in a flashing second, my body was taken by Shame. My grandma was walking further towards me, and closed the door, "Melea," she said softly her voice awaking so much emotion inside of me that I looked up, "you eat food like it is poison."

I wasn't able to hold it back anymore. She broke the last piece of discipline that I still had left inside of me. Tears splashed over my face as if they planned on overflowing me. At least I wouldn't be alive then. That's what I deserved.

"How do I deserve my life when I took Tyson's?"

My grandma's eyes teared open, water filling up her eyes and I screamed, tears still streaming down my face, I screamed as much as my throat allowed me to, but instead of a loud scream, it was a loud whisper. The acid in my throat reminded me of the offense that I committed all these months, hindering me on things a human should be able to do. But I wasn't. That was how weak I was.

"I can't, I can't even scream...", I whispered, swamped over by more tears. Where their origin was, was a mystery to me – I hadn't been drinking properly for months. My body trembled, I fell forward, my grandma kneeled down and caught me, my head buried in her shoulder, "I'm weak. So, so weak."

"I'm here Melea. Everything will be okay. It's going to be okay, my love, you hear me?" she whispered in my ear, and I looked up to her. Would it be?

There was a scream deep within my body, the scream that I hid, the scream that terrified a sane soul. I had lost my sanity when I saw Tyson's dead body and his detached head. The blood that had slushed over the carpet back then took out the last bit of soul that still had been inside of Tyson. In order to do that, it soaked out all the strength in me – to let Tyson be able to travel to a different place.

I felt chocked, my throat too rough to speak, but I somehow, I wanted to scream. Scream one scream in particular. A scream that I hid deep inside of me. That I hid there for months. My grandma held me tight, as if she was afraid I would fall back, and I probably would've. It hurt me in too many ways to be described by words.

And then I screamed.

"Mel!", a scream woke me up, and I startled, "huh?"

"Falling asleep much?", Taylor asked and raised an eyebrow, "as if you didn't know that already," I answered, and continued when I saw the unimpressed look on Taylor's face, "I just can't wrap my head around King Lear."

"Why's that?", he leaned his head to one side, "I guess there is too much cruelty in it. It pains me to keep on reading," I answered after thinking about it for some time.

"It is an easy read," Taylor replied quickly, "if you believe in the things written on these pages," I murmured.

"I think in some aspects it represent society quite well," he said and I raised my eyebrows and suppressed a smile, "so, you criticize me for underappreciating life though you think the world we live in is cruel?"

"Humans are cruel," he leaned onto the back of his chair, and it wobbled from side to side, "but life is an art by itself."

When he realized that I wasn't saying anything, he leaned back forward and asked, "why am I here? We don't even read Shakespeare."

"Because," I started, sitting myself up again, "Derek is at some event with his Dad, and I can't risk scoring low on this exam."

"I wouldn't call a basketball match an event, but suit yourself. Just say that he didn't want to spend an entire afternoon with you in a boring library."

The library women squinted her eyes at us. I hit his arm.

"I can't blame him," he went on, "you'd spent a day in a dirty basement, if I would be there," I interjected, "false," he sat back down, "I would be spending the day with you in a basement if you would make it dirty with me."

I hit him again, "you know I could put you in an orange jumpsuit any second."

"We both know you won't. You just like me too much," he winked and I rolled my eyes, but chuckled when I noticed the sarcastic undertone.

The last few weeks had been passing by quick. Exams brought me to spend time in the library or in quiet classrooms much more than I wanted to. Derek, Sofia, Veronica, Taylor and I ordered in or went out to the nearest fast food restaurant to get through the evenings.

Surprisingly, I spend much of my time with Taylor and his family. Sometimes, it seemed as if only they and the two of us existed. His family reminded me of the time when he was still Mason to me, and I was still his little girl. I've spend my free noon's bringing Caren lunch, and the evenings studying with my friends. I even met Taylor's father's girlfriend Olivia - the blonde beauty was about twenty years younger than him, a bit naïve and infatuated with Jack. Taylor was almost never at his dad's house, but if he was, I came with him. He didn't say anything but I knew he'd rather spend his whole day with his mum and Cami than an hour with his father. I realized how quiet he still became every time his father talked him down. Jack never did it in front of me, but I heard him shouting at Taylor, and I realized how Taylor's face changed when he came back from a talk with his father. And I realized that in these moments he was still that scared, little boy. And no facade could hide that.

"What's up with you mastermind?", he asked, and titled his head to one side.

"Just thinking about the last couple of weeks," I replied, still lost in my own thoughts, "you think too much."

"Sorry, I am just not as reckless as you," I teased him, and he smirked while opening his book again, "come on, let's get through with this."

We studied for another good hour. It wasn't boring, but exhausting. Though Taylor tried to explain me the motives behind the character's cruel actions, I couldn't really comprehend the why. It was just unrealistic to me that Humans could be this cruel. A single human yes, but so many? Were we all cruel by origin?

We walked out of the library around 5:00pm and the librarian closed the door behind us.

"You know my Dad's birthday was yesterday," Taylor interrupted my thoughts and I nodded, "I know."

He wasn't saying anything for a couple of seconds, until I finally understood what he was implying, "Oh no, I'm not going to some birthday event with you."

His face turned serious, "why not?"

"Your father hates me," I stated the obvious and Taylor couldn't disagree, "he doesn't hate you, he...dislikes you."

I frowned, "how's that better?"

"Please?", he asked again, and I saw in his eyes that that favour came from deep within. I sighed, "fine, I'll go with you."

"Thank you."

"So, when's the lunch?", I was looking at my phone and realized that I forgot to order an Uber. We were already on our way to the main street in front of our school, though I wasn't even sure his Uber driver would drive me home.

"Tomorrow," Taylor answered my question, "don't you have to get your car out of the repair shop tomorrow?", I frowned and he confirmed it with a short nod, "one more reason I don't want to go. At least Olivia is going to bore you with one of her bag talks too."

"You have such a malicious way of pleasure, " he smirked at my answer, then looked down at his phone, "my driver will be here in 5, I can ask him to drop you off after he dropped me off."

"Thank you that would be great," I locked my phone and put it back in my bag, "are you going to your mum's?"

"No, to my dad's."

"Why?", I asked blankly," I'll stay there tonight. Cami forgot something at his house, and I have to talk with him about you and the Birthday lunch."

"So, he doesn't even know I'm coming?", that would be a great lunch.

"He said I can bring someone, he won't care who it is," he answered, and I was unsure if I should still come with, "I don't want to ruin anything."

"You aren't, don't overthink it. I'll talk to him."

We arrived at Taylor's fathers house quite fast. Jack Cavanaugh had always been a reserved man - just like his house.The huge mansion was made up of non-transparent windows, whereas you could see the outside from the inside, but nothing from the outside. The glass windows were ranged from the top to the bottom of the house, and made up a third of the whole exterior wall. The mansion had three floors; it was higher than our house, but not as wide. The whole property was fenced, and there was only one gate that allowed you to enter the property.

Taylor leaned out of the window and swiped a card through a swipe reader that was placed left next to the gate. A couple seconds later the card came out and the gate opened.

The driver stopped at the front door, while Taylor was still talking to someone on the phone, "I can pick her up, it's fine. I have to go now," Taylor replied and hung up.

"I have to pick Cami up later. Can you wait and we'll drive together?" he asked, and I smiled, "Sure, that's fine."

"Ok good," he discussed with the Uber driver for some time until he finally agreed to wait for him. Taylor gave him some cash and got off the car. He left the front door open, and I could see his huge feet running up the stairs. I was on my phone for a little while, until I heard him call me, "Melea, can you come up here real quick? I'm not sure which one belongs to Cami and which one to Olivia."

"Coming."

I gave the driver a slight smile and got out of the car to get into the house. I walked up the massive staircase, and realized how perfectly clean the whole house was. There wasn't a single fluff anywhere. Like it was one of the houses out of a magazine – most would say that this was perfect. That's what a perfect house should look like. But for me, it wasn't: it was cold, unwelcoming, and empty. As if no one lived here. There were no pictures hung up, no decorations, no unique scent to the house. As if there was nothing differentiating this house in which two children grew up with an unoccupied house.

"Is that a fourteen-year-old girl purse, or a thirty-year-old one?," Taylor questioned, and I grabbed both of them and looked inside. The top part of a key chain was sticking out of the right auburn purse.

"I think a thirty-year-old wouldn't have her school ID card in there," I said and supressed a smile.

He shrugged, "she could pass for a late one."

I chuckled.

"Taylor?" A female voice shouted, and filled the mansion with an echo of his name. I heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and seconds later, a slim woman in her late 20's opened the bedroom door. She was taller than me, but not as tall as Taylor. Her mid-blonde, almost golden hair was put back into a low bun, but some strains of her hair loosened themselves from it to frame her face. Her black eyeliner made the green color of her eyes stand out more. She wore a simple rose shirt with a long golden necklace. She was stunning.

"I didn't know you would come," Olivia responded and Taylor shrugged, "Cami forgot her purse, and my father wanted me to come over," his eyes remaining on the purse.

"He's in his office if you want to see him," she replied, still standing in the doorway.

"Thank you. Melea, would you wait in the car?" I nodded, and took the auburn purse. I gave Olivia a warm smile, and walked past her down the stairs.

I knew Taylor felt sorry for her. He always pretended like he disliked her, but as for most of his lies I was able to see through them. She was a beautiful, young woman, with a good heart – but too naïve for her own good. Even though Jack really loved her, at least felt for her whatever he was able to feel with such a cold heart, she never even saw the wrongness in his actions. She always saw him as a good some man, rather than a gruesome one. Love wrapped itself around his cruel characteristic as a shelter, keeping her from seeing what kind of man he was.

"Is there anything you don't ruin?"

A voice shouted. A voice I was too familiar with. Goosebumps ran through my body.

I heard the voice shouting again and then, something broke. It sounded like glass shattering on a wall. I stopped breathing for a second.

I heard Taylor mumbling something, but couldn't hear his words. Someone hit their hand on a table.

"Did I allow you to talk? Are you done now?"

It was Jack. He said some words I couldn't understand, and I heard another glass hitting the wall. The glass splashed on the ground loudly. The sound of the glass splashing paralyzed me, so I remained standing in the hallway. I couldn't move. I wanted to walk upstairs, scream at Jack, but my muscles failed to support me in any way. The sound of another glass splashing fulfilled the mansion.

I heard how the door to the office was opened. The door wasn't closed, just leaned on.

"Jack, please," I heard Olivia's tired voice. She didn't sound surprised, just calm, trying to hide the anxiousness in her voice. Sudden silence. I was able to get my breath under control. My fear for Taylor was like knife slowly twisted in the gut, like a constant hammer on the head, like a ghost in a child's nightmares. He wasn't going to hurt him, was he? Taylor was his own flesh and blood, his son – he couldn't bear to hurt him, could he? No, of course not – no one was that cruel. But there was a certain uncertainty. A certain uncertainty inside of me that didn't let me go

I heard Jack sigh, "we'll talk later," he rumbled, and I heard someone walking down the stairs. Nothing else in the house moved.

"Go ahead, I'll take the driver later. I'm fine."

I took a deep breath, and the warm feeling of relief suffused my body. Taylor's face did not show any signs of being beaten up; his lips were still red, the skin in some brownish tone. Not a single red scar showed up in his face. But the minute I looked into his deep brown eyes, my relief was disrupted by consternation. The ones, that were normally so full of light, were now dull. The light was gone, replaced by a kind of a daze.

"Tay...?", I whispered.

He just looked at me for a second. His facial expression was one of absolute stupefaction. Nothing in his face showed me that he was even still alive.

"I said I'm fine," he answered, but his face did not reflect the words coming out of his mouth, "I'll see you tomorrow."

He turned around and ran up the stairs again. I just stood there for a couple of seconds, in my head his daze eyes. I was as white as chalk, my eyes and mouth frozen wide open of stunned surprise, although I stared straight ahead to the place he had just been standing on. I've seen Taylor cry when he was a little boy; but the light never left his eyes when he was with me. Now, it seemed completely gone.

I heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Not Taylor's. It were Jack's. He stood there, on the last stair of the staircase, looking at me.

"You? What are you doing here?"

I knew he was referring to me. He never liked me; since the first day I've met him, I seemed to have some characteristic that he found so insufferable that he never even dared standing next to me for more than a couple of minutes. I looked up from the ground. Anger, that boiled inside of me, seemed to explode any minute. The madness, that permeated my body all through my heart, made me say things I'd never thought I would ever say out loud. One question – only one question and I could be certain that he would never hurt Taylor. Just answer this one question right Jack – please.

"Do you love him?"

He remained silent for a minute. His green eyes drilling into mine.

"Of course I love him."

Shivers went through my body. The little hairs on my arms raised up. My brain stuttered for a moment, and every part of me goes on pause while my thoughts caught up.

He failed the test.

He said these words, as if it would be nothing. He said them with such a coldness, that the coldness of his words took over my body. My portrait of who Jack Cavanaugh was changed.

He turned away and walked up the stairs again. A few seconds later he was gone. I still stood in the hallway.

He didn't mean them. These three little words, that meant so much to most people in the world meant nothing to him. He spat them out like an insult, shattering my heart into pieces. I remembered a quote Taylor once said to me. Love is just a word, but you bring the definition to it.

For Jack Cavanaugh, love meant nothing. It was just a word, made up, such as every other word. There was no deeper meaning, no sense, no significance behind it. The cruelty of the way he said them made me believe that it didn't matter whether he said them or not; he didn't feel them. Jack Cavanaugh was probably the cruellest men in this town, and I hoped that one day Taylor would be able to escape his atrociousness.

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Infernal - characteristics that relate to hell or the underworld; irritating and cruel.