Young Elite - Chapter #4 - by itsvlada

Time does not heal pain, it only teaches us to live with it.

Alex’s POV

Did she really just slap me? No pain, nothing. Just emptiness. A void. Like she said. It’s been ages since I've felt anything. I haven't breathed, haven't lived. I just exist.

Instead of enjoying the anger in her bright green eyes, I catch sight of her slender wrist. Instead of feeling pain from the blow, I notice her delicate fingers. My eyes drop to her skirt, and then to her bare, slender legs. For a moment, I think they're stunning. Simple, unadorned – like a work of art.

Ugh, what the... Alexander, stop it! You know where this train of thought leads?

No way...

For a second, I think I'm just a sucker for a pretty pair of legs. It's disgusting. How can I even look at her and find anything appealing? She's nothing, period.

My self-loathing makes me take a deep breath, and her scent hits me – lilac soap or something. It's like spring in a bottle; it can't get any worse.

I want to scrub that smell off me, tear my skin raw. So I never have these thoughts again. Grandpa always said I should stick to people who deserve me. He'd never let me near someone like her, let alone work with her or make her my assistant. So why did he ask me to work with her?

I called it right; she's headed for a fall. People like her always end up the same – in a ditch, dead and nameless.

She's still standing there, not running away or crying. Just her cheeks are red, and she's biting her lip to the point of bleeding. She's trembling, and that's almost enjoyable – until her palm slaps my cheek.

Anger flashes in her eyes, crystal clear and all for me. Tears streaming down, and she spits at me, "Freak!" as she means it. “What a freak!”

Her words cut deep, but it's the slap that really leaves me stunned. I'm still trying to wrap my head around it - she just hit me like I'm nobody.

The air is thick with lilac - suffocating, like there's no air left. I feel demeaned, like she's stripped me of my dignity.

But she doesn't stop. In slow motion, I watch her raise her hand again, her black ponytail swinging over her shoulder, and then she shoves me.

The nerve - this little thing, with no family or home, thinks she can push me around? Twice, with those dirty hands?

I stumble back, overcome with rage. I storm back to her, grab her ponytail, and yank her close. Heavy breathing, quick and sharp. Our chests touch - disgusting, but I don't care.

She's got to be scared.

And for a moment, fear flashes in her green eyes. She's terrified. Good. It’s about time.

I need her to know who's boss here.

"What's your problem? Huh? I'm talking to you."

I yank her hair, push her off, and she crashes onto the table, chair going down with her. Now she's really crying. Yeah, go ahead, show me your tears.

"Don't forget who you are," I yell. "Or I swear, I’ll make your life here a living hell!”

I storm out, slam the door, and get back to my room. To Rob. To calm down.

I'm shaking like crazy.

Her touch is still burning my skin. It's crawling under my skin, tearing me apart. My demons are screaming, twisting, eating away what's left of me.

I'm consumed by hate. Just thinking about her makes my skin crawl.

***

Aurora’s POV

I'm sitting on the floor, staring at the door. He's gone, just like that.

I'm in shock, and my emotions are on fire - fear, the sting of humiliation, tears. I don't get what's happening. I've never felt this way before. I've never had so many emotions hit me all at once. And I've never hurt anyone, never even pushed or slapped someone. At boarding school, we were all equal, no one stood out. But now it's changed.

He unsettles me, Silver does. It's like his gaze sees right through me, like I'm just pretending to be someone I'm not. And I hate that. I don't want that life. I'm not going to be defined by it.

My body's shaking, and my mind's a blank. It's like Alexander's soul - empty. And the worst part is he pushed me back, knowing I'd fall.

I get up slowly, feeling the humiliation eating away at me. I spot the key on the table, grab it, and squeeze it tight. The edges hurt my palm, but it's a small relief. I snatch the rules from the shelf and head out, trying to look confident.

I just want to disappear, find a place to let it all out.

I avoid the academy and go behind it, passing by the tennis court, football field, and horse arena. I finally reach a small garden and rush to the far end, not even stopping to enjoy the view. I just want to hide and release all my emotions. Boarding school taught me to keep them bottled up - "only the strongest survive." Showing weakness wasn't an option.

But today…

Today I showed my weakness. I mean, to the one person who knows my weakness now and won't back down. People like Alex, once they sense vulnerability, they just go for it.

I'm sitting on the grass, fenced in by a forest. I unclench my fist and look at my palm - it's covered in blood stains.

I break down, tears streaming down my face like crazy. I'm howling and feeling this wild pain in my chest.

I'm completely alone. And that's how it's always been. There's no one I can count on, just society pushing me down and waiting for me to hit rock bottom. Kind of like what's going on inside Alex.

This hurts so bad. My whole life I've just wanted someone to turn to - a mom to hug, to listen to her advice, to taste her cooking. All those privileged kids have that, and I'm sure they don't even appreciate it.

“Hey?”

I jump and flinch out of fear. Some guy my age is walking up to me, slowly. He looks like another rich kid, judging by how confident he carries himself. He's holding an e-cigarette and approaching me like I'm some scared animal. The school uniform only adds to the image.

He sits down beside me, his eyes locked on mine.

I quickly wipe away my tears, feeling exposed. "Hi," I mutter.

"Something wrong?" he asks, his green eyes filled with genuine concern.

I try to brush it off. "No, everything's fine."

He introduces himself. "I'm from the second group. You're from the first, right?"

I nod, still wary.

"Did someone upset you?" he presses on.

My defenses spring up. "What's it to you?" I snap.

But instead of anger, he shows understanding. "When a girl walks by with tears in her eyes, it bothers me."

I'm taken aback. "Why?"

He shrugs, removing his cap. "Girls shouldn't cry." There's a kindness in his voice that disarms me.

He has dark blonde hair and a charming presence. His smooth facial features, calm gaze, and sweet blueberry-scented smoke from his cigarette create a soothing atmosphere. His voice is gentle, almost comforting.

"They shouldn't," he says.

"What's wrong? Are you crying? I've got a younger sister, so I know how to look out for someone. Who messed with you? I'll take care of them. Who is it? One of those arrogant jerks?"

"Are you one of them?" I ask, skeptical.

He shakes his head, pulling his legs up in his jeans and blowing out a thick cloud of smoke. "No way. Just a normal guy, that's all."

"A normal guy who doesn't act like a snob?"

He chuckles. "I'm not perfect, but I'm not all bad either. Most people aren't."

"I thought you were born to make others feel small."

It gets easier. The pain is still there, but now I can finally breathe again.

"That's not true for everyone. So who did this to you?"

"Alexander Bass, my classmate."