SKYLA. The day should have ended after the press conference. I should’ve peeled off my false eyelash and probably poured myself a drink while I was at it, and practically pretended that the kiss hadn’t left me shaking.Instead, I was standing in the elevator beside a silent Charlie, watching the numbers descend gradually towards ground zero.He kept on checking his phone, not the casual kind of checking. The kind of check one does when they’re waiting for the bomb to drop.And his agitation was already rubbing off on me.“You’re tense?” I asked when I couldn’t take it anymore. Charlie gave me a tight smile, one that looked more like a grimace than a smile. “PR is always tense.”But his knuckles were white around his phone. A sign that he was clenching that device a little more harder than he should have. My heart went out to the phone.When we reached the executive floor, the metal doors slid open into the heart of the chaos. Two armed officers in drak jackets were speaking
SKYLASteph dabbed powder across my jawline, but it couldn’t cover the exhaustion beneath my chestnut skin, not really. No concealer could conceal the damage Carl had done. But now, my image mattered more than the truth.“Try to look soft...” Steph whispered, angling my face towards the light. Soft, she was joking right?Across the green room, Xavier was adjusting his cufflinks with casual precision. Sharp navy suit, a subtle pin on his lapel. His media mask was flawless. Pffttt, who was I kidding, this was his everyday lifestyle. He knew exactly what to say and do. He caught me watching, and he stepped closer, his eyes searching mine slightly. “You’re overthinking again, Skyla,” he whispered, staring at me like something fragile. “Besides, are you ready to pretend like we are in love?” He asked, his voice low enough that only I could hear.I didn’t answer him right away as I tried to dispel the way my chest constricted painfully in my chest. “Well, as long as you remember
SKYLA The whole world was in a frenzy. It felt like their was a certain sensation buzzing through every social media and every news outlet.What started as a whisper at first blew into ridiculous headlines, now painting me as the bad guy. Headlines like. “Whistle-blower or wannabe”“Skyla Leon Jefferson: A past painted in scandal.”“Former juvenile inmate now claims corporate conspiracy?”Every screen I passed in Manhattan showed my face – my mugshot from when I was barely sixteen, grainy and tired – eyed, plastered beneath mocking voiceovers that twisted the truth until it suited their ideals – twisted it until it became something venomous.By noon, they had dug everything up.My juvenile detention record. An accident that happened at the group home, an accident I never knew I committed until the authorities had come the next way and dragged me away, tagging me as a threat to others. All because I had stood up to a bully. All because I could no longer take their trash talks
SKYLAThe very first thing I felt was pain – the kind of pain that drove you to the edge, the kind that stayed, poking, stoking, and brandishing you.I felt panic wash over me immediately, choking me through my neck as I tried to fight hard against the feeling. Tried hard to keep myself afloat.My eyes fluttered open to a harsh white ceiling, the hum of machines and the all too – clean scent of antiseptic. My throat felt dry, and my whole body, including my eyelids, felt heavy and unfamiliar.But none of that mattered.“Mom,” I rasped, the words tumbling out my cracked lips. “Mom? Where’s my mom,” I called out desperately, trying my best to get off the bed, as I tried to rip the drip off, The sound of machine beeping dangerously filled the thin air.The panic surged faster than my pain, I tried sitting up, but I couldn’t even bring myself to. I couldn’t even remove the drip that was restricting me. My movements felt all too slow. Any small movement sent lightening through my ribs
XAVIERI never knew pain looked and felt so quiet.Skyla laid limp beneath the hospital light, her once vibrant dark chestnut skin tone dulled against the white sheet of the hospital bed. Machines hummed around her like some cruel sympathy of delay.Her body that was usually filled with life and furious was still, her coffee brown curls spilled like ink across the pillow.Her hands, always quick to rise in defiance, now laid limp in mine. The doctors said she had fought, that she had screamed, and also tried to run.There were visible bruise marks on her wrists – defensive wounds.They said she was found unconscious on the rooftop of Carl’s private tower. According to sources, somewhat had cut the power supply right when she fell.They couldn’t tell if she was pushed, or she had missed a step. But her screams were loud enough that it cut through the still night. But I didn’t need them to know. I already knew it was the monster I was privileged to address as dad. It just had t
SKYLA The city outside kept moving like my world hadn’t crumbled into tiny little pieces, like nothing happened at all.Taxis honked outside the window, spring banners fluttered like bright lies above crowds that laughed, screamed, and even shoved through their day like it was none of their business. A cart of coffee cart hissed near the corner, releasing the scent of cinnamon and something bitter.But inside me, the world had already stopped, stopped moving. Stop beating.I was having desert and also going through several files that i had managed to gather concerning project Delphinium in my favourite cafe when the call came in. I was hunched over a dossier when my phone lit up, Ed’s name flashing across my screen.I paused mid-air, my heart hammering aggressively in my chest as I stared at the constant light that flickered through my phone.Ed never called, except it was an emergency. He never called me except something had gone terribly wrong. I slid the answer button with