— crushed petals

Harriet grabbed the back of Marilyn's head by her hair. The sudden pull was followed by a crack as Marilyn groaned, head arched, cheek and neck bared in front of her mother. Harriet slapped her, three resounding times.

Mortification cloaked Marilyn's pain as she stood there, stunned.

The breakfast room maids witnessed the spectacle with pursed lips as colour drained out of their own cheeks. They cowered to the edge of the room as Vincent Keynes got up from the head of the table. What was left behind were photographs of two strangers posing in front of the camera and Marilyn Keynes holding a paper plate in the background.

"So, you think you're so fucking smart now?! You can just run away from your home and fool us?! Do you think your parents are fucking idiots?!" Vincent growled and thrashed her with the back of his hand.

Harriet let go and Marilyn fell to the ground, immediately, whimpering and clawing at the tiles so as to understand the reason of the sudden abuse. Words betrayed her. All that escaped her throat were wretched sobs and gasps for air.

"You think you're so fucking smart now?! You can just fuck off with whoever you like and fucking —" He kicked her before her whimpering could get any louder, "—not a sound out of you, you get that, you little bitch? Not a sound. After all that you've done, you still dare to disobey us?! It would have been so much better if you had died instead!"

Marilyn agreed as she curled up on the floor. She too would prefer death, any day. She already lived like she was awaiting it. She hoped it would come sooner, make haste, take her away in its cool embrace. She'd be the happiest in death, truly.

"Are we still sending her?" Harriet questioned, her cold gaze moving between the father daughter duo.

"I don't fucking know what they want from us," Vincent snapped, clearly losing his calm. Harriet stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his torso. She gently caressed her husband's back while her daughter coughed blood on the floor, as silently as she could.

"Don't you feel bad for us?!" Vincent gasped as he unlatched Harriet from him and kneeled in front of his daughter, "Do you not feel remorse, at all?!" He shouted as he wedged her chin in between his index finger and thumb. He picked up her face to face him.

Tears and snot marked their territory on her face. Blood ran down the corner of her lips. Her hair stuck to her forehead, wet cheeks and bloodied itself around her mouth. Her eyes were a pity evoking scarlet and ocassinally, her head bobbed up and down, owing to her well controlled whimpers.

"Leaving your phone at home so we cannot track you. Leaving your shoes at home so we cannot track. Hiring a fucking body double like you're Tom Cruise?? Bitch," Vincent spat and let go of her.

Marilyn fell to the ground again.

"She'll end up getting us all killed one day," Harriet spat, "This is it. I'm contacting them. I'll pull her out of school. May the Paisleys forgive us for this demon child." She walked all the way to the table and grabbed her phone. On the opposite end, the maids stood as still as humanly possible — hoping to blend with the background and be one with the walls.

Harriet dialed a number.

The bell rang.

"Mhmm, my phone's ringing," Arabella whispered, suppressing a moan as a man peppered kisses along her throat.

"Is the phone more important than me?" He challenged as he raised his head momentarily to look her in the eye. His hair had grown out in proper bangs now and a small scar by his left eyebrow held testament to time he dedicated to his family's work. His features were more defined now, alluring in a way Arabella couldn't help but lean in.

Her lips captured his, once again. He tilted his head and pressed all of himself against her, sandwiching the girl between his body and the bed. His hands traced the milky expanse of her body, shivering under his coarse touch.

"Mhmm—Aaron..." She gasped as Aaron nibbled and licked her collarbones, marking her with all the love he had. One of her hands grazed sensual lines along the scars on his muscular back, another dove into his thick hair and pulled at its ends.

His kisses moved southward. Arabella's belly rippled with butterflies. His hand ran across her toned stomach, inching down and down, when—

BANG! BANG! BANG!

"Why is this locked? AARON? ARE YOU IN THERE?! HAVE YOU SEEN ARABELLA? Where are these folks?!" Elio grumbled outside the hotel door.

The two instantly jumped apart, muffling laughter as they heard Elio knock one more time before giving up.

"He's going to track us now," Aaron snorted and rolled over to the other side of the bed. He picked up his phone to switch it off when he noticed a message from Ryker. Instantly, he perked up. From slouching on the bed, he sat up straight, sultry dark eyes brightening up.

"I've got a text from Rykie!" Aaron chirped and clicked on the message. It opened up to Bernie's birthday party image. Arabella leaned over Aaron's shoulder to have a look at the text, all the while peppering kisses on his smooth shoulder.

"Look, he's having so much fun," Aaron all but sobbed out of sheer joy as he witnessed Ryker's bright dimpled smile.

Upon seeing the picture, her ministrations stopped. She simply perched her chin over his shoulder and smirked, "I see my present has arrived."

"Present?" Aaron questioned, zooming in on Ryker's face like a grandma, "He's grown taller, hasn't he? And look at that hand, does track make you hand muscles?" He zoomed in and out of his brother's hand which was extending all the way to squish Nadia's face. "I see they're still going strong, all three of them," Aaron sobbed and clutched the phone to his chest. "I think I'll have an excellent day today now that Rykie had texted me!" He exclaimed and caressed his phone, "I miss him too much ..."

Arabella zoned out to Aaron's brother-simpery as she rolled over to grab her phone. She opened it to see a missed call from Harriet Keynes. She rolled her eyes and sent a text: 'Good work, keep it up.'

Harriet stared at the text with her head in her hand. She swore under her breath as she got up from the chair and ordered the maids to summon a doctor.

"Are we to continue with this buffoonery?" Vincent asked.

"Apparently," Harriet sighed.

Vincent swore under his breath and stomped out the breakfast room before his itching feet would land another kick on his daughter. He did what he did with a heavy heart, he realised when he found himself frantically washing his hands in the bathroom. He struggled to take out the cigarette box and lighter from his pocket. His fingers fumbled and the items fell on the bathroom floor.

Vincent cursed as he kicked them and dashed out. He sped towards the winery and picked up the first bottle of Scotch which landed in his sight. He uncorked it in one go, with bare hands, and gulped the bitter contents with his mouth on the bottle.

If only his daughter had two cents worth of obedience, he wouldn't have to suffer like this on the regular.

"I've treated the wounds but they will take some time to recover. I recommend a week's worth of bed rest," the doctor said, looking at Marilyn's sleeping figure with much pity.

"Thank you," Harriet replied, tone crisp and remorseless, "You've heard him, right?" She addressed the head maid, "Nobody leaves her alone."

"Yes ma'am," the head maid curtsied.

"I shall take my leave now," the doctor said and curtsied. A maid walked him out with his bag in her hands.

Harriet spared no glance to her bandaged up daughter as she waltzed out of the room. Silence gathered around to mourn Marilyn. The upper half of her bed was surrounded with plushies yet she couldn't move a limb to grab one of them and cry into it. It's not like she physically couldn't. She could. But she didn't want to.

Though she was lonely, she wasn't alone. The maids stood guard inside her room now. Keeping a watchful eye on every breath she took. Marilyn physically couldn't get herself to move under their overwhelming presence. She simply kept her eyes close and played dead.

Maybe if she pretended too hard, she'd succeed. They did say: fake it till you make it. Marilyn wanted to laugh internally. It seemed like a funny premise for a story: to be faking one's own death to the point they actually died. She made a mental note to write it someday.

With a whole day to spare and having will to move, Marilyn wondered what Nadia, Bernie and Ryker must be doing at school. Would they miss her? Would they spam her phone with texts and calls? Would they save her like in those dramas that Bernie watched? It would be so fun...at least it was fun imagining.

Nadia would fly through the window wearing a silver armour, slay the goblin maids and trap the twin dragons — Harriet and Vincent — before picking her up, bridal style, and flying away.

She wondered if Ryker would be cursing her guts out for not being showing up with his homework. He'd probably be scolded all day for not having any homework sheet on him. Or maybe Bernie would cover for him. He usually did.

Bernie always looked out for Ryker and Nadia. Ryker always looked out for Nadia and Bernie. Nadia looked out for everyone. Would Nadia look out for her? As much as her heart wanted her friends to appear out of the blue and take her away, she knew it was unfathomable.

She wouldn't be allowed to go. She wouldn't even physically move out of fear jamming up her limbs. Marilyn was paralysed by her own audacity. It was her own fault, after all. She wanted to hate Nadia, Ryker and Bernie for urging her to take such a step. She wanted to blame them and cry about it. But honestly, it would be a big fat lie and she'd know all about it.

Her thoughts screamed at her.

Even the windows were bolted shut. Not even a page rustled inside her room. In the overwhelming silence, what Marilyn wished for, more than anything, was to give up living on this borrowed time.

Hic.

Hic.

Hic.

"You've been hiccuping all day, are you okay?" Bernie asked as he turned to face Nadia. The bell had rang a few minutes ago, to indicate free time. Ryker had already ran off to the tracks.

"I should be, I dunno. Maybe my Marie is missing me too m—hic— much," Nadia pouted as she piled all of the homework given in the first half, "I have all the notes and homework complied and —hic— she hasn't been replying to my messages, do you think she's super sick? I dunno, will you come with me to send this stuff after sch—hic—ool?"

Bernie laughed as he nodded, "Yeah sure, why not. Let's bring her some flowers as well."

"Ohh that's a nic—hic—e idea!" Nadia exclaimed and dug out coloured papers from Ryker's desk. She stood up in search of classmate who could fold flowers when her phone rang.

It was an anonymous number.

"Hello?" Nadia said as she picked up the call.

"Ah, hello, is this Nadia Paisely? I'm Kailee, do you remember? You gave me 50, right? Are you at school? I can hand them back if you'd meet me in the front yard."

"Ohh, right, yes yes, sure, you didn't have to, thank you, I can meet you right now!" Nadia exclaimed into the phone, earning widened eyebrows from Bernie.

"Okay, see you in five," Kailee said and hung up.

Nadia pulled her lips in a line and slid the phone in her pocket. "It's Kailee," Nadia pointed at the phone in her pocket, informing Bernie, "I'll see you in a bit. Get some flowers folded by somebody, yeah?" She passed the coloured papers to Bernie and walked out of class.

"And why would I get them folded by someone?" Bernie grumbled as he picked up the stack and walked out of the class, "I can do better myself," he scoffed proudly as he made it to the Sandbox Club Room.

Though, to his surprise, he found Francesca sitting on the table with headphones on her ears. Her eyes were closed and her head was bobbing up and down, dancing to a melody on she was privy to. Her shoulders swayed to the rhythm, subtly and her feet moved in an odd pattern.

Bernie took a seat on the far end of the couch, as silently as he could, and got to folding flowers. As soon as the bell rang, he got up and stood in front of Francesca. She seemed so lost in her own world, Bernie wondered if she'd realise any external stimuli. His eyes flickered to her puckered pink lips but instantly looked away.

He cursed himself, internally, for whatever erased tangent his brain was about to draw. Instead, he curled his fingers around her headphones and pulled them away from her ears. Instantly, Francesca opened her eyes and found Bernadette breathing on her face.

Her eyes widened, as he leaned in to whisper, "Class is about to start." Gently, he let the headphones hang around her neck as he stepped back, smiled ever-so-charmingly, and walked out.

Flustered, Francesca got up to follow him. But, something dropped from her lap and in haste she stepped on it. Francesca tsked as she stepped back to see what she crushed and spotted a paper sunflower. Its petals were now flat and awkwardly bent and instead of standing horizontally on its stem, the flower laid vertically flat and crushed.

"No no no, what did I do! No!" Francesca all but cried as she gently picked up the flower and cradled it against her chest, "Oh my poor darling," she sobbed, "I'll perform a surgery on you in class," she clarified to the flower and ran out.