Mag-log inNATHANIELFor several long minutes, I simply stand there motionless while the vest clings heavily against my body and droplets run down my face in steady streams.It feels strange. Like waking up after being unconscious for too long, before my hands eventually move.The soaked vest lands on the floor first. Then the sweatpants.Steam thickens around me while I drag both hands through my wet hair and force myself to keep moving.I step out several minutes later, stop in front of the mirror, and my hand reaches for the shaving cream automatically.The foam spreads across my face slowly before I grab the razor.The first swipe feels almost foreign against my skin, but gradually my hands begin to move faster and steadier, until hair starts to disappear into the sink, my actual face beginning to return beneath all the damage.“There you are,” I mutter. Still exhausted. Still hollowed out.But at least now I resemble Nathaniel Blackwell again, rather than some conspiracy theorist living ben
NATHANIELThey have been sitting out there for almost 2.5 hours now. And I know because I have not stopped watching them once.From the balcony outside my room, the garden stretches beneath me in soft evening light, the roses swaying gently every time the wind brushes through them, while the fountain somewhere in the distance pours water in quiet little streams against stone.Right in the middle of all that calm sit Betty and Harriette with enough tension wrapped around them that even from up here, I can feel it.Harriette keeps adjusting the spoon beside her teacup without actually drinking anything.Betty keeps checking her phone every few minutes before placing it back down again, only to grab it again moments later, like somehow the screen might suddenly change if she stares at it hard enough.My fingers tighten unconsciously around the whiskey bottle hanging loosely from my hand.I have only taken one sip since I retrieved it from the cellar after they left me standing there alon
BETTYI feel overwhelmed by the time Harriette finishes speaking.Not in a dramatic, earth-shattering kind of way, but in the quiet kind of way that slowly settles inside your chest and refuses to leave.Because nothing about this visit is going the way I imagined.I came here expecting tension, resistance, coldness, maybe even a fight if I am being honest with myself.Yet somehow, I’ve ended up seated in Harriette’s garden while she orders tea and snacks like I had merely returned from a short vacation instead of disappearing from this house for three whole months.The staff moves around us quietly, placing everything on the small round table between us with familiar ease.A silver tea set. Chocolate chip cookies. Small pastries. Fresh fruit.And somewhere inside the house, someone is apparently preparing my favorite meal together with Grace’s favorite strawberry milkshake because, according to her, I can’t go back to her empty-handed.The entire thing feels strangely domestic. Warm.
NATHANIELShit! Even my voice sounds terrible. Rough. Unused. Like I have swallowed gravel. Which, honestly, makes sense, considering I barely speak anymore unless absolutely necessary.She takes a slow step toward me, still staring like she’s trying to process whether I’m actually real, and I instinctively take one back.The movement surprises me because suddenly I am painfully aware of everything.The alcohol probably lingering on my breath. The exhaustion beneath my eyes, and the fact that she has seen me at my absolute lowest, without warning.And then… thinking this cannot get any worse, her lips twitch.At first, it’s subtle.Just a tiny movement near the corner of her mouth, but then it grows wider and wider until a laugh suddenly bursts out of her before she slaps a hand over her mouth, too late to stop it.I stare at her in complete betrayal. Is she laughing at me?I don’t think Betty has ever laughed at me before.Argued with me? Yes. Threatened me? Absolutely. Looked at me
NATHANIEL“Fuck… fuck… fuck…”The word loops violently in my brain while my body temporarily forgets basic human functions. Like breathing.What the hell is she doing here? Scratch that…I mean, why is she here now? Today. Like this.Of all the days for Betty Cooper to walk back into my life, it had to be the exact day when I look like this.Perfect. Absolutely perfect.She is staring directly at me now, her body still halfway inside the doorway, her hand wrapped around the knob behind her like she might bolt at any second.For one insane moment, I think maybe there’s still time to recover this situation if I remain completely still.Maybe if I don’t move, don’t blink, don’t breathe too aggressively, she’ll assume I’m one of Harriette’s weird sculptures and continue about her business.Shit. I should have stayed upstairs.I should have stayed locked in my chambers, where I belong, instead of wandering around the foyer looking for alcohol like a Victorian ghost.But then another thought
BETTYI have been sitting outside the Blackwell estate gates for almost five whole minutes now, questioning every decision that has led me here.The engine is still running beneath me, vibrating softly through the steering wheel while I stare at the massive iron gates ahead like they might reject me the second I attempt to go in.Three months ago, I left this place swearing I would never come back unless Grace forced me to, and even then, I had imagined drop-offs at the gate, quick exchanges, as little contact with this family as humanly possible.Yet here I am alone, voluntarily about to walk straight back into the lion’s den because Rhys decided disappearing off the face of the earth was apparently a reasonable lifestyle choice.My grip tightens around the steering wheel.“What if they don’t let me in?” The thought arrives suddenly.What if Eleanor opens the door and throws me right back out? Or Nathaniel tells me to get the hell off his property? What if Harriette decides I lost al
NATHANIEL.By the time I step into the café Amanda asked me to meet at, I already know I am not fully here.Her text had sounded urgent, clipped in that way she only uses when something has gone wrong, and I came without thinking twice, even though I haven’t had the time to collect myself after the
NATHANIELI storm into my chambers and slam the door so hard the sound echoes through the room like a gunshot.I stand there, chest heaving, the air thick in my throat like I’ve swallowed smoke.My fingers tighten around the brown envelope until the paper creases, before I rip it open with a vicious
BETTYI’m in front of the mirror because I couldn’t sleep, already dressed in a cute cropped hoodie, high-waisted jeans, and sneakers that make me feel light on my feet even when my heart isn’t.My hair is pulled back, my face bare, and for a long moment, I just stare at my reflection like I’m wait
NATHANIELI’m leaning against my desk, legs spread apart, the edge biting into the back of my thighs through my trousers, while Amanda stands between them like she belongs there. Which she does.Her perfume clings to the air, the kind that lingers long after she’s gone, and her chest brushes mine e







