Ruthless Empire: Part 1 – Chapter 10

Is there a place in literature or psychology books that states when you should realise you’re not…normal?

I’ve had my suspicions since that night when I stopped crying once and for all, but lately, I’ve been noticing the abnormality more than usual. I’ve been reading books about deviant behaviour and thoughts. The thing is, those theories don’t really apply to me.

I’ve never looked at a kitten or a puppy and decided I wanted to hurt it or felt the urge to. If anything, I think people who have such thoughts are cowards. They want to do greater damage, but they latch onto creatures way weaker than themselves who can’t do anything to stop them. Those people are pathetic, and I’ll never belong in the same bracket as them.

That leaves me with little to no choices as to where I should be put. Do I have anti-social behaviour? Do I want to hurt people?

The answer to the latter is no. I don’t care about people enough to want to hurt them.

Besides, I love my mum. In my own way. She’s the reason I still believe there could be something else for me.

Chaos is still one of my secret tendencies, though.

Whenever I find the opportunity to bring it back to the world, I do. Since we play football, I usually get that chance by instigating a small fight here, a rivalry there. It brings flavour to the other players’ boring lives, so they should thank me for it.

If chaos is the only thing that makes sense, what does that make me?

Chaotic?

I don’t think so. I enjoy watching chaos from afar, but I dislike being in the middle of it.

There is unwanted chaos in my life — the type I can’t seem to control no matter how much I try.

Like the fucking scene in front of me.

We’re at the Meet Up, watching a football game between Arsenal and Tottenham. Everyone here cheers for the former. I do, too, but only so everyone thinks I actually give a fuck. I don’t.

Ronan and Xander are making a ruckus, kicking and screaming as if they’re the ones playing. Captain, Levi King, shushes them so he can hear the commentator.

Unlike his cousin, the current captain of Elites — Royal Elite School’s football team — is more open, but still a control freak like everyone in the King household. They could use personal psychoanalysing from Freud himself — if he were still alive, that is.

Aiden is sitting across from me with Silver by his side as he places a hand around her shoulder. They keep whispering things to each other before she laughs discreetly and he smirks with mischief like the bastard he is.

She doesn’t give a fuck about football. At all. And yet, she makes it her mission to watch it and put on a show with Aiden.

And I know it’s a show, because on normal days, they can’t stand each other. They only pull this shit in front of me. I know it’s a game.

Her way of revenge.

His way of being a dick.

Despite knowing all that, I can’t purge it out of my head. I don’t watch them, not when they can sense me, but I see them all the time. I fucking hear them, even if the TV’s sound is loud.

This is the unwanted chaos I don’t understand. If I know it’s fake, why the fuck am I so hung up on it?

Why do I want to stand, punch Aiden in the face, and devour her lips in front of him so he knows who the fuck she belongs to?

Perhaps this is what it feels to be the victim of chaos. That chaos is Silver.

Not Aiden. It’s all on her.

Since our parents started officially going out together and she decided Aiden, the fucker, deserved her virginity and the title of her fiancé, I’ve turned her life into hell.

There isn’t a field I haven’t made her lose in. I used to at least leave piano alone, because she’d have this proud expression when she won, and she’d take a picture with both her parents and post it on social media with the happiest caption.

But she killed that part of me, so now, I win everything. And I mean every-fucking-thing. Down to the simple credit homework.

I don’t only win, I crush her. I don’t only push her to be Miss Number Two, but I also win with a large gap that makes her doubt everything.

Soon after, she gives me that glare, tells me she hates me, and then goes to the park to eat a small Snickers bar and cry on her own.

While she does so, she usually curses me aloud like a madwoman speaking to herself. I watch every moment until she goes back home, smiling and hugging Sebastian as if nothing happened.

That’s the thing about Silver. Her happiness is visible to the entire world through her social media and her hashtags, but her misery is only for herself.

And me.

There’s always me.

It’s not Aiden whom she comes back to for more. It’s not Aiden that she’d demand a redo with. It’s me.

Always me.

Silver never gives up. Never.

You can bury her under ten metres of dirt and she’ll dig her way out and demand a rematch.

Her phone dings and she pulls it out to stare at the text. I lean on my hand, pretending to watch the TV or Ronan and Xander’s show. In reality, I’m only watching her. The slight parting of her lips, the way her shoulders tighten a little before she throws the phone back in her pocket and feigns interest in whatever Aiden is telling her.

She’s agitated. No. Not just agitated. She’s scared.

Usually, it’s something to do with her mother’s well-being, but lately, she’s been disappearing without a word and spending less time with Mum.

In the beginning, Silver did her best to resist her dad’s relationship with Mum, but it only took her a talk with them during the first introductory dinner to change her mind.

I went to the restroom and when I came back, I overheard her tell them she’s happy they get their second chance and that she’d secretly planned for this and she’ll do her best to help out in anything.

Secretly planned for it. Which means she wanted it.

After that, she did as promised. Silver became their perfect daughter. Her only problem is me. She can’t feign getting along with me when she constantly, without fail, tells me she hates me every day. It’s her mantra.

Mum told me not to be mean to her, but that’s the thing, I’m not. At least, not in front of them. So they always think the problem is with Silver, and the reason she won’t get along with me is her secretive way to resist their relationship. Her frustration and inability to tell people I’m actually mean and have them believe it gets her more riled up against me.

Did I mention that I like creeping under her skin? It’s the only time when she’s not putting on a façade and letting out her genuine emotions. It’s just anger, but it still counts.

The change in her patterns lately hasn’t escaped me. She lets her father’s driver pick her up early. She doesn’t go out late and she’s been having that expression when reading her messages sometimes.

It’s hardly noticeable since she’s mastered hiding her reactions.

Aiden sure as hell doesn’t pick up on it — or care enough to.

He fucks girls he literally doesn’t remember the names of. She’s aware of this. She caught them once, but she just threw his jacket at him and told him they had a fundraiser to attend.

Aiden is nowhere near her ideal. I know because she writes about that in her journal.

And yes, I read her journal whenever Sebastian invites us to dinners at his place.

Surprisingly, she doesn’t write much about me except. I hate him. I wish he wasn’t Helen’s son.

That makes two of us.

She calls Aiden a pig and says how much she can’t stand him on almost every page, but she’s still with him anyway.

The other time, I told him I’ll accept all his challenges if he breaks off the engagement with Silver.

“It’s not a child’s play, Nash,” he said. “Jonathan won’t let me.”

“You want me to believe you’re afraid of your dad?”

“No, but I know how to pick my battles with him.” He grinned. “Why, Nash? Are you finally admitting your black heart actually has a spot for another human being?”

When I said nothing, he continued, “Or are you being a doting older brother who’ll come at me with an axe if I hurt his sister?”

She’s not my sister.

But I didn’t say that so he wouldn’t latch onto it and perhaps even tell her. I’ve been using that taunt to make her go crazy.

Mum and Sebastian are still dating, and considering the latter’s commitments and Mum’s writing schedule, I say they’ll break it off soon.

They care about their respective careers more than emotional balance — especially Sebastian.

Since he’ll undergo important general elections soon, I have no doubt that both of them will call it quits. Mum doesn’t like the flashing of cameras and attention, and she won’t let them label her a politician’s wife. Now that they’ve had their adventure, each will go back to their respective world.

And that’s when Silver will be mine.

This time, I’ll swallow her so much into my chaos, she’ll never find a way out.

Aiden says something and she laughs. Fuck them.

I stand up and tell Levi, “I’ll be right back.”

He nods and I go through the back entrance and stand on the porch that overlooks the tall trees in the forest visible from here.

I retrieve a cigarette, light it, and take a drag. It tastes like shit, but the nicotine allows my brain to loosen up a little and stop being stuck in its messy chaos.

It’s the only addiction I allow myself, although I just smoke once or twice a week or when the chaos gets too tangled.

Ronan says I’m addicted to books and I should seek therapy, but fuck him. He’s only literate because his father is an earl. No kidding, he’s the type who’d say, ‘How do you read this shit? There are no pictures in it.’

Reading is one of my defence mechanisms to not get caught up in the world. The world makes me think of worldly things, like that night, and I hate that night.

So I redirect my thoughts to the one thing I didn’t hate about that night. The girl with a butterfly pin and a doll.

Silver wrote in her journal about it.

Cole saw me cry today. He didn’t hug me as Xander does to Kimberly whenever she cries. He wanted to leave, the tosser.

But he told me divorces happen and that Papa and Mummy will probably be happier apart.

I hate that.

Cole also told me his secret. He wants to be my first. I told him, I’ll only do that if I’m his first too. Otherwise it’s not fair.

Papa says to always negotiate so it’s fair.

And now, Papa and Mummy won’t be together anymore. I can’t stop crying.

Why did they get married if they don’t want to be together?

Why did they give birth to me?

And yes, I recall every entry I read. I usually memorise anything by reading it once. I took special care of her journal. Now all her words, her vents, and her confusions and fake personality are integrated into my head.

When I grow old and my memory starts demanding to delete files to be able to remember others, I’d choose her stupid journal over books by philosophers and psychologists any day.

Chaos.

She’s fucking chaos.

I step out into the night and through the trees. Twigs crush under my boots and I ignore them as I continue on my way.

The moon is bright in the sky tonight despite the freezing weather. I left my jacket inside, so I’m only in my uniform’s trousers and shirt.

I arrive at the small lake beyond the trees and stand at the edge of the deck, staring at the moon’s reflection in the calm water. I don’t know how long I remain there. Something about it is bugging the fuck out of me.

It’s not red.

How come it’s not red?

It should be red.

“Cole?” A soft voice calls from behind me. “What are you doing?”

I turn around and face her, but I don’t move from the edge. Under the moon’s light, she appears like a blue shadow. Her hair falls to her back and the butterfly necklace glints. She’s never removed it in public. Not even once.

But it’s not because she cares, no. It’s because it means she admits defeat if she doesn’t wear it.

And that’s exactly why I said those words — so she’d keep me with her at all times.

“Are you stalking me?” I ask.

“You wish.”

“Then why did you follow me all the way over here?”

“Papa called and said he made reservations for dinner. Derek will pick us up.”

“Message received. Go back to Aiden.”

She scowls, but she doesn’t make a move to leave. “Are you still smoking that death stick?”

I blow the smoke in her face, making it scrunch. “Obviously.”

“You’re a bastard.”

“If you keep complimenting me this often, I’ll think you have a fixation on me.”

“In your dreams.”

“You don’t want to know what’s in my dreams.”

“We agree on that.” She stretches her hand. “Give me your phone, I need to make a call to Derek. My battery died.”

“What do I get in return?”

“My begrudged thank you.”

I smirk as I retrieve my phone and unlock it. Silver makes her call, glaring at me the entire time. Once she finishes, she’s about to return it, but then she focuses back on the screen.

She must’ve touched a button. Her cheeks heat as her eyes widen and that look returns. The look from eight years ago.

It’s the fucking same.

I’ve seen hints of it, but never this identical awe.

“W-what the hell is this?” She thrusts the phone into my face.

It’s an image of Hope bound to a chair, half-naked, and giving me a seductive look. “Hope. She’s a senior.”

“I know it’s Hope, b-but w-why is she tied like that?”

“Because she likes it.” My voice lowers as I blow another cloud of smoke in her direction. “And I like it too.”

Silver’s face doesn’t even scrunch at the smoke. It’s caught in that eternal awe-filled look. Or maybe it’s fear?

Her blue eyes darken and her throat works up and down with a gulp.

“You’re…sick,” she breathes out, even as her cheeks redden under the moon.

Silver throws the phone in my hand, turns around, and marches out as if her heels are on fire.

Sick.

Maybe. Probably.

And part of my sickness is her. My Butterfly.

My chaos.