After pleading a pitiful case to the next school, I was allowed to begin my sophomore year on the provision of absolutely no shenanigans. I lasted all the way through the year until finals week when I felt the electrical sensation again. This time I tried to restrain myself and get it under control; I wished only to wash the feeling off. Again I must have blacked out because I woke up to find myself in another ambulance; the school had flooded spontaneously. The school board did not ask so nicely for me to leave; but Aunt Syl forced them to give me passing grades by threatening a lawsuit, since there was no substantial evidence that I caused the flood.
Last week, the beginning of my junior year, I started my third prep school, only to experience what felt like my blood beginning to boil. I was warned it was my last chance to finish high school. Unfortunately for them, no one would be finishing anything at that school, since I magically burned it to the ground.
I couldn’t explain what happened to me; I just knew better than to mess around. The powers in charge at Kingsley must have been brave souls to allow me entrance into their prestigious prep school, or had taken out an unusually large insurance policy.
I was just glad I was able to stop it that time. I had never felt the impulses react so strongly. More than a sweeping sense of unconsciousness, the electrical impulses had felt alive, as if they were reacting to something. Who knows what would have happened had I let them continue…. possibly the Apocalypse? I had no idea why those things happened to me, or what exactly they were. I just knew that I was always the one responsible for something catastrophic. And I was seriously hoping to avoid closing this school down for good.
I turned around, so that my back was to the wall, slid down slowly to the ground, and closed my eyes. I was utterly unconcerned with being late for class after all that; I had bigger things to worry about, like ensuring there was still a class to go to.
I compelled my nerves to calm down, and started slowly to relax. I forced my muscles to loosen up, mentally flexing them. My relaxation only lasted a second, though, as the Administration Building doors burst open. The two boys, from before, exited the building in mid-conversation.
I prayed they would not notice me and crouched even closer to the wall. I could not have felt more humiliated. Although the gorgeous one did look in my direction, he acted as though he couldn’t see me and continued down the steps.
“What are we doing here, Talbott?” the one named Kiran demanded, almost growling.
“Please sir, you know what we are doing here,” Talbott replied, almost too softly to be heard.
“No, I do not,” Kiran snapped again. “Aren’t there any qualified girls in London? This is ridiculous. I don’t even know where we are. This is the ugliest place I have ever seen. I cannot possibly be expected to spend the next two years of my life here. I want to talk to my father,” his voice had almost turned into a whine, but his accent was so sexy that I hardly noticed.
“There are none in London with her pedigree and power. Your father looked. Your father looked everywhere. And this place is called Omaha…. Nebraska. I’m afraid he will not be moved; this was his idea,” Talbott said humbly but persistently. Although inferior in looks, he certainly seemed to be the more mature of the two.
“This is ridiculous. Where is she?” Kiran looked around himself with such pride and arrogance that I found his beauty quickly fading. Crouching closer to the wall, I could not believe they still hadn’t noticed me.
“Please calm down. I believe you will meet her soon; but we must get to class now or you will be late on your first day,” Talbott half smiled and started walking in the direction of the academic buildings; Kiran followed slowly behind, arms crossed, looking less god-like and much more child-like.
I breathed a sigh of relief and slowly stood up. Reluctantly, I collected my papers and adjusted my uniform, which consisted of a navy-blue, pleated skirt and white button-down collared shirt, knee-high navy blue stockings and of course the classic prep school tie: navy-blue with red plaid. I gathered my nerve and headed in the same direction as Talbott and Kiran, already afraid of the rest of my day.
Please enjoy an excerpt from Lila Felix’s newest Anguish, release date June 20, 2013.
Prologue
Two Years Earlier
“Oh come on Breaky.” Why in the hell I’d put up with her calling me ‘Breaky’ for so long was beyond comprehension. It reminded me a song, sung by that mulleted country singer years ago. But I went along with it, blindly. I went along with a lot of shit. I complied when she took all of the money from our bank account on a weekly basis and went shopping. And I’d given her a debit card attached to my account, the most ludicrous decision by far. I relented when credit card bills came in with my name on them that I’d never applied for, and certainly never charged fifteen grand on. I backed off when she asked for space. I didn’t even say anything when she claimed not to want to sleep in the same bed as me anymore because I snored. I’d never snored a day in my life. I thought I was giving her ample space.
All black clouds that portended the storm.
And then I was in the middle of a full blown panic attack, cowering in front of her friends.
I’d walked into the party wanting to spend time with my friend Memphis who I hadn’t seen in a while. I also just needed a break from being home alone all the time. I hated it. It was too silent, too eerie. As soon as I opened the door to his apartment, he turned white as a sheet and tried to stop me from entering.
“What the hell, man,” I asked him.
He looked left and right and gave me a glance that said apology and embarrassment. I rubber necked, looking for the source of his shame and spotted it immediately. Holly was straddling some guy on the couch, her hand down his pants, her tongue down his throat right there in front of God and everyone I knew.
I stalked over, the anger brimming to the surface and barked at her, “Jesus Christ, Holly!”
This is the part where she started her Breaky act in this play.
The guy beneath her guffawed out a laugh, “Come on man, she’s been screwing me for months like this. She’s been screwing you by robbing you blind. Like you didn’t know.”
I didn’t. I didn’t have a clue.
His friends started in on me next and the more they jeered and the more cackles erupted from her mouth, I lost it. I couldn’t do anything but stare at the sneer on her face as their revelations pounded in my ears. The edges of the room fizzled into shadow as her betrayal sunk in.
“Where do you think all the money’s gone man? Or does Daddy give you so much you haven’t even noticed? She’s been paying our rent and buying us beer. Hell, I even got new shoes out of the deal—plus a piece of this fine ass,” He squeezed her behind and she yelped, a dog pissing on his property.
Drums beat in my ears, a creature clawed to get out of the confines of my chest, organs somersaulted, menacing salty waves clanged against my eyelids. The density of the air changed and I sucked in molasses instead of air into my lungs. It was that moment that ruined me. It was in that moment I shed my former self and left it dead in Memphis’ house. All the world faded.
Breaker
“It’s disgusting,” I parroted her; she always got nasaly when referring to all things pestiferous. The top items on her list of foul objects: Ground beef, roaches, carpet of any kind, and of late, me—well, my growlery in particular.
“Don’t you sass me Breaker James Collins. I could care less about your detest for my meddling. Get it cleaned up before I show up next week or I will hire a maid myself,” she quipped.
The shudder ripped through me at the thought and she knew it. Damn her for knowing how to hit below the belt.
“Fine. I’ll take care of it, Mom,” I groaned back at her. It wasn’t that bad. Yes, the dishes were piled up in the sink and something growing a fur coat on one plate in particular—I think it was spaghetti, was being the operative word. And maybe the dust could be seen flying in formation when the sun shone through the splic
e in the curtains. But there was no soap scum ring around the bathtub, but that was because I never took baths, that has to count for something. If I were a regular person, I would keep up with the everyday chores. I would keep up with chores like emptying the dishwasher and washing my clothes.
If I were a regular person, I could actually walk out of this prison—house, it’s a house.
“Test me not. Breaker. I will not be moved on this. And I get what you’re going through, I do. But no son of mine will live in filth—period.” She hung up the phone, unwilling to hear my response. I had to clean this place up. I had a week.
I didn’t used to be like this. I was that guy who did the dishes after dinner because my girl had cooked. I spent Saturday mornings cleaning the house and making sure the grass was mowed. I got dressed in the morning and ran—outside. I went to visit my mom and my sisters. There were lots of things I used to be and do.
During the week that followed, I did some things, none of which I would call cleaning. I wrote. I journaled. I stayed in chat rooms constantly, my only method of social interaction. I expected a knock at the door telling me I’d been catfished any day now. I studied and worked on classwork. I didn’t clean. In fact, I would say the mess had doubled in volume and stench.
I did do my laundry, mostly because I was out of things to wear. And my bedroom was clean for the most part. The rest of the house—no one came over, so why would I care if it was presentable? Anyway, she wouldn’t hire a maid. She knows how I feel about—people. I really didn’t mind people one on one but eventually they wanted to go out into the world. And that was where my part ended. I never left this house, not even to go to the mailbox. It had been two years, three months and nineteen days since the party. Subtract three days spent in the hospital for monitoring and that’s the length of time since I’ve been out of these walls.
I threw a t-shirt on, since Mom would be at the house any minute and tried to scroll excuses through my head, picking the most lucrative options as to why I hadn’t obeyed her request as I tore down the stairs. I plucked ‘I had a ton of schoolwork’ out of the mental pile and decided that was my story.
I heard her car in the driveway; it was the only car which made an appearance in my driveway. I smirked to myself. She was soooo not hiring a maid. I had this in the bag.
She walked in and I hugged her, kissed her cheek and smiled that gooshy sweet grin I knew she loved.
“It smells like a garbage dump in here,” the look of determination on her face terrified me.
I laughed it off, “Come on, you’re being dramatic.”
She closed her eyes and exhaled, “Breaker, I have to.” She looked down and shook her head.
“No, Mom. I’ll take care of it,” I could feel my innards begin their quaking and quivering at just the thought of a new person in my house. An elephant sat on my chest and the little beating mouse thumped furiously against the weight. God, what if I had a panic attack in front of them and they thought I was a freak?
“No Breaker, I’ll take care of it. This,” she pointed to the kitchen behind me, “is what happens when you take care of things lately. This was not part of the deal. I’m sorry if you don’t like it. Just one more thing to talk to Angela about. Tell her your mother forces you to be hygienic.”
She always did this. She thought that the psychologist came to the house and all we did was talk about how bad of a mother I had and that must be the root of my challenge. That wasn’t it at all but there was no convincing her lately. She’d convinced herself if she’d paid more attention to Holly’s antics she could’ve prevented my downfall.
“What are you gonna do,” Come on logic, work your magic. “put an ad in Craigslist? What would it say? Wanna clean for a guy who is a slob and—insane?”
“Don’t do that Breaker. But yes, that’s exactly what I intend to do. I’ll have to ask Navy about it since I’m not good at the computer stuff. She’ll know what to do. I’m also going to put some flyers up at LSU. So, I will narrow the people down to a few and then I will send them over here for interviews,” she held up her hand before my mouth could protest, “I will schedule it so you know they are coming but this is happening, honey, so just get over it.”
She left me silent and stunned until the reality of what she said crashed down on me, “Shit!”
Rachel Higginson, Bet in the Dark
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