Kaylan isn't Storeroom Stalker.

It didn't clicked in well after I had left the party. Storeroom Stalker now had a gash on his right shoulder that needed at least one week to heal, and Kaylan hadn't had that. His white shirt had been soaked to the skin after he jumped into the pool, and there hadn't been any sign of an injury. 

However, there had been Thomas. . .

He has every reason to be Storeroom Stalker. No matter what you may feel for him, no matter what the both of you might have had, the undeniable fact remains - 

He betrayed you.

And I knew that. I knew what the voice in my head was saying was true. But that was the thing about emotions. When you feel too much. . . all rationale can leap out the window dressed in a pink chicken suit for all you care. 

It was amazing, and more than a little scary, what effect he had on me. How he can affect me. Four years came and went, but the feelings never left. And that, more than his appearance, was what shocked me the most.

Because what he did to Blackcroft, what he did to me, had been and still was - unforgivable.

I knew Thomas since we were five. He was one of those rare boys who actually acted their age. More than that, he never once treated me differently just because I happened not to have a certain part of human anatomy. I can't recall when it started, but he liked bringing me little gifts from the outside world. He knew about my frustration and desire to go beyond the confines of the manor, so he tried all he could to help me fulfill my wishes. The Tigress keychain had been one of the early presents. 

Most of the time however, he brought me food. And what amazing delights those were! It was from him that I experienced the cold drip of ice-cream down my tongue, and the velvet feel of milk chocolate. Through him I came to know that there was more to food than just noodles and vegetables. That there were actually things, delectable things, such as a banana milkshake, a soda drink, and those plump short cylinders called sushi.

He was gentle, he was kind, and he was downright persistent. Little kiddie me believed that all boys should be treated like dirt, and Thomas was that one small stone that stuck in the sole of my shoe, refusing to dislodge itself. Slowly he managed to wriggle past my defences, breaking down my walls.

And at the cusp of teenhood - entered my heart.

Heart to heart. He used to call that the-not-really-confessing-confession. When he reached thirteen, he decided to do it properly. I remember that day so clearly -  I was in my room, when suddenly the door opened. And there was Thomas, looking so panicky. He said nothing but grabbed my arm, pulling me out after him. When I pressed him on what was wrong, his sentences were incoherent, jumbled up, making me think that something awful had happened.

 It was only when I came to the little garden that I realized I'd been tricked.

I wasn't prepared for the little semi-circle of lit candles, or the strings of ribbons strung all over the place. I wasn't prepared for the row of edibles stretched out before me - from chocolate to pizza to churros to that tall glass of milkshake. . . They were all food from the outside world, food he had brought back to me, so I could have a taste of what he had. And what touched me the most was that he remembered, because all the food were arranged in chronological order, with a little note beside each to tell me when was the first time I had eaten it. And right at the end of that impressive line-up was a Kung Fu Panda cake - ice-cream, mind you - sitting proudly on a silver plate. 

And most of all, I wasn't prepared for the way he looked me in the eye, lifted up his necklace, and asked - 

Will you be mine?

And I had always known the answer.

We were ours for one year and a half. 18 amazing months. He snuck in to see me more than ever, and we'd laugh together because we never got caught. 

My mother and him. They were the only two people, that made life at Blackcroft a little bit better, a little bit brighter, a little bit more bearable. They were the only reason why I took my father's beatings and endured the discrimination. And when my mother died, I believed his promise, that he would stay by me . . . forever.

I guessed his definition of forever was different from mine.

He betrayed not only me, but the entire Blackcroft. He sold us out. He turned traitor, and he turned traitor to - 

Black and Tan.

Maybe he felt he was being under-appreciated. Maybe he was seduced by the idea of higher pay. Who knows? But whatever the reason, he chose them over us. And it wasn't only information he was selling, it was also his skills. 

Because he went up against us.

With fire and iron.

Many Blackcrofts died that day. We all thought it was a simple business deal - Blackcroft would show up with the money, Black and Tan with the modernized weapons, an exchange, perhaps a handshake, and we'd all go home. There was talk about expanding our cooperation, so the heads of both parties had showed up. Very important people, congregated at the scene.

The scene of a trap.

I hadn't been there of course, but I'd heard the spectacular tale of how the ambush went stunningly well, all thanks to the wonderful strategy of a certain Thomas Blackcroft. We were crippled to our knees that day. Half of the people there didn't survive. Those that did nearly died. Our chiefs, our captains, our consigliere - gone. I may have no love for them, but they were the only people I'd ever known. 

They came for me after that. It was stupid really, to think that no one had noticed. Of course they'd noticed, they just didn't say anything because why would we be important? Now that my boyfriend had been exposed, it was natural for them to interrogate the person closest to him. 

For a week they had their way with me. I was tied up, beaten, tortured until my screams hurt my throat. There were red-hot pokers, sharp blades and carefully calculated pain. When they were satisfied I knew nothing, they left me in there to crawl out of the room myself. 

Thomas not only didn't protect me, he did quite the opposite.

They said he was dead. The meeting had taken place on the docks, and stray bullets had punctured some oil barrels, setting off an explosion. He was right in front of it, his body thrown twenty feet into the sky, before hitting the surface of the water and sinking like a stone. Never heard from since.

Until now.

It fit. Everything fit. Storeroom Stalker. . . His more-than-average skills, his refusal to let me see his eyes, the reason why he never spoke. Because I would recognize him, because I'd never forgotten him, because I would pick him out of a crowd of thousand within seconds of seeing his face.  

Four years he was gone, and all this while he was with Black and Tan. 

I bet he got a promotion. I bet they clapped him on the back, saying excellent work, dude! and gave him the high rank he'd always been looking for. 

I never really believed what they said. 

I never really believed he betrayed us.

Even that photograph of him, meeting the man with the gloves, meeting Black and Tan's second-in-command, had never really convinced me.

Well now . . . 

I've changed my mind.

*

"Let's have it at Emrys' house!"

"Whoa whoa, why me?"

"Because your house is probably the biggest, with three maids and two butlers, and we could really use some pampering."

"Now first off - there's only four, and one of them is on leave, so it's really three. Secondly, they're only supposed to pamper me, and you guys have no right to infringe on my domain!"

"Infringe my foot! And why on Earth are you dressed like this today?"

Emrys made a sudden skip ahead of us and swished his long, velvet and probably expensive cloak. He was wearing a top hat with a multi-colored feather in it, along with a mask over half of his face.  In solemn notes he intoned,

"I am Erik, Phantom of the Opera! Behold! Your Angel of Music!" He did a most extravagant bow, which would have been quite impressive if his hat hadn't chosen that moment to topple right off his head.

Leila sighed. "It's another audition, isn't it? When is it?"

Emrys straightened up, all business. "Next week Tuesday. But you know what they say! Acting is art! To fully embody your character, you must feel him! Feel his every emotion, feel his sooo-ul!"

Roxy bent down, picked up the hat and jammed it on Emrys' dark wavy hair. "Keep your psycho to yourself. We're talking about something else entirely here."

The entire class had to do a project for Social Sciences in groups of four. We were allowed to pick our members from other classes, which explained why Emrys was with us. Leila had suggested that we have a sleep-over at the end of the project, and had even managed to persuade Roxy to come around. Now we were deciding on whose house to crash in. 

"Maybe we should go to Roxy's."

Roxy snorted. "Not on my watch, lady. You suggested the party, you find your own venue."

"But you're part of the party too, aren't you!"

"So are you. Why can't we use your house?"

"Well if you like having my little brother running around, wrecking havoc. . ."

We walked out of the school doors and across the grass. Opposite us, a very familiar figure was heading our way. Immediately I felt like

The gap between us closed. I was having a hard time keeping my eyes trained to the front. For some reason they kept flickering away, and my mind was too busy conjuring up past scenes of that night - 

Next to me Leila bumped my shoulder. That mischievous smile was back on her face again. Even without knowing about the kiss, she was having a lot of fun teasing me about our "relationship".

"Why don't you say hi?" she whispered.

I gave her a look. "Well why don't you?"

"Maybe I will."

I rolled my eyes. Five feet. Four feet. Closing.

"You know what, I think I will."

Never put ideas into this girl's head. Three feet. Two feet.

"Leila, don't - "

"Hey Kaylan - "

He walked right past us.

As if he didn't see us. 

Leila stared at his receding figure. I couldn't help looking too, both our heads turned around, watching him walk away.

Across the grass.

To a bench.

Where he went up to a certain blonde girl and placed a hand around her waist. Brandy looked surprised, but quickly enough got over it and started pawing at every inch of his skin.

"Well that was awkward," Roxy remarked.

Leila was puzzled, but mostly pissed. "Wait - what? So that's it? After everything, he decided to go back to - to her? Well he has bad taste."

I looked at him for a heartbeat before turning back around and resuming walking. "Good riddance to bad rubbish."

"So - what? You were just some - side fun? Hayley! Aren't you angry? Because I know I am!"

"It wasn't as if we were together anyway." I adjusted the strap of my bag. This thing keeps biting into my shoulder. "And anyway, I figured it out sometime ago."

Leila did a mini lunge forward and faced me, effectively stopping me in my tracks. "What's that supposed to mean?"

I exhaled. "He was only doing it for Brandy's attention. All the times he showed particular attention to me - like in the cafeteria, or outside it, or in the Chemistry lab, he made sure Brandy knew. That time, Brandy was in the cafeteria, and the guys in Chemistry lab took videos." I shrugged. "You know, typical boy thing, playing hard-to-get, making the girl jealous. . . He was just using me, forcing Miss Queen Bee to make a decision. And hey! Apparently it worked."

Roxy spat on the ground. "Boys. Scum."

Emrys made a whimpering sound of protest.

"Well that's just mean!" Leila exclaimed. "I never thought he'd do something like that!"

"He's Pambrooke's bad boy, hon," Roxy said. "What did you expect?"

Leila muttered several choice words under her breath. I gave her a small smile.

I'm so tired. Of everything.

The lies. The games.

"Let it go, Leila. Besides - " I turned around and gave the distant figure of Kaylan an unreadable look.

"Nothing really happened anyway."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It's been a long day . . . 

Without you my lovely and energetic supporters :)

This one's for @SweetSugarFairy ! Hope you liked this chapter!

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