There’s something enchanting about the darkness…a push, a pull. It’s like a haunting lullaby with ever-changing lyrics.

  I keep trying to avoid the blinding light and the voices. So many damn voices surround me like audible torture.

  They keep heightening and magnifying, and there’s no way I can stop them from assaulting my senses.

  They’re like an unreachable itch beneath the skin.

  Then, one day, when I think I’m about to go crazy, my eyes open. Or maybe my brain finally catches up to that fact.

  The back of my head aches, and so do my limbs. It’s as if someone beat me up with a baseball bat.

  Wait…is that what happened?

  The blinding light renews the urge to close my eyes again, but I don’t. I keep them wide open—as wide as I can considering the circumstances.

  If I close them again, I might never open them back up. I’ll return to the hide and seek game with the darkness.

  I’ll go mad for sure.

  My surroundings are blurry. Mismatched shades of white become more and more defined the harder I focus. A headache lodges firmly at my temples the more I try to make out my immediate environment.

  White walls. The same bleach smell. No classical music or coffee this time, which probably means the man with the older voice who used to talk to me isn’t here anymore.

  “Miss Ellis, you’re back,” a soft voice calls from beside me before an Asian woman’s kind face comes into view.

  Her black hair is tied into a bun underneath her white cap, and some wrinkles surround her pulled brown eyes.

  She checks something on the machines around me and nods to herself with a smile. “I’ll call Dr. Anderson. Do you need anything?”

  I attempt to shake my head, but the stabbing pain at my nape stops me.

  When I say nothing, she asks, “How do you feel?”

  “Like hell,” I grunt in a scratchy, barely alive voice. “Have I been in hell?”

  “You’ve been so lucky, dear. You gave us a fright.” She smiles and leans in to whisper, “Your fiancé hasn’t left your side the entire time.”

  I have a fiancé?

  No, that can’t be right. I don’t have a fiancé. I don’t have anyone.

  Wrong. Everything is just so wrong.

  “It’s rare to see that kind of devotion in college kids these days.”

  College.

  Okay, so my name is Reina Ellis, I’m in college, and I have a fiancé.

  Did I mention wrong?

  None of this adds up in my brain…or is it still trying to keep up with reality?

  When I raise my eyes again, the kind Asian nurse isn’t speaking to me anymore. Her attention is on something—or rather, someone—over my head. “Congratulations on your fiancée’s recovery, Mr. Carson.”

  “Thank you.”

  My spine locks and a shiver shoots down my back, covering my entire body.

  The rough, deep voice with the slight huskiness.

  The nightmare voice.

  The one who called me a monster and…something else.

  There was something else, but I’ve forgotten what it was.

  Hell, I’ve forgotten a lot of things.

  I don’t even remember why I’m here, my age, or my damn name.

  Everything is a blur. It’s like I can reach the answer, but the moment my fingertips brush against it, it turns into fog.

  The nurse says something else, but I miss her words—again, my brain has trouble keeping up. Everything happens too fast, like in some futuristic show.

  Wait, are we in a Black Mirror episode?

  How do I even know Black Mirror and not my own life?

  The last thing I focus on is the door hissing open then closed behind the nurse.

  My throat chooses this exact moment to become scratchy and sour. I glance to the side, searching for water.

  A bottle sits on a small table, and I reach my arm out to grab it.

  Huge mistake.

  Something in my right shoulder pops and pain explodes in my muscles. I groan and bite down on my lower lip to stifle the sound.

  Pain is temporary. Pain is temporary.

  Mom’s words echo in my head like a mantra.

  I blink twice. I remember having a mother.

  That’s the first thing I’ve remembered since waking up in this sterilized room.

  “Look who returned to the world of the living.”

  My movements freeze as that same voice echoes around me. I forgot he was still in the room in the first place.

  I don’t hear the sound of footsteps or feel him approaching.

  The attack is silent and fast. One moment I’m thinking the nightmare is a reality, and the next, a broad, tall figure looms over my bed.

  You know that color a tropical forest has when it’s raining heavily? That’s the color of his eyes. Dark green, almost black.

  Harsh.

  Emotionless.

  There’s something about those eyes that pushes me into a high-alert mode.

  I want to run.

  I want to hide.

  But I can’t. Something tells me it’s not only because of my physical injuries. I’m unable to run from him.

  He’s wearing a simple white T-shirt and a black leather jacket along with dark jeans. His hair is the color of a moonless night with a bluish hue. It’s short on the sides and long enough in the middle to be tousled.

  The straight, chiseled jawline and the thick brows give him a fatally attractive edge—the kind serial killers have.

  His broad shoulders and lean waist increase the intimidation of his already dark exterior tenfold.

  Well, the physique is understandable. After all, he’s an athlete who slaves at the gym and practices constantly.

  Wait—how do I know that?

  His upper lip lifts in a cruel smirk as if he injected all the shadows in it. “I knew you would come back.”

  Unlike the nurse, he doesn’t seem relieved about that. No. He’s like a hunter who’s closely observing his prey right before the attack.

  A lightning strike right before the thunder.

  The click of a gun right before the shot.

  Suddenly, I wish I’d surrendered to the darkness of unconsciousness. That type of darkness is better than this one.

  Don’t they say some monsters are better than others?

  His hand reaches out for me and I instinctively push against the pillow. Pain explodes in my head and my upper shoulder, but I don’t stop.

  I need to stay away from his hold.

  Run.

  Run!

  My instinct has caught up with my slow brain and is now shouting at me to get the hell out of here.

  In my condition, it’s impossible to move a muscle, let alone run.

  I glance behind me at the emergency call button. Maybe if I ask the kind nurse, she can remove him from my side. Maybe someone can help me.

  Because I need help right now.

  I can feel it in my bones and taste it on my tongue.

  He releases a tsking sound that gets past my ears and embeds under my skin. “No one will save you. It’s just you and me.”

  Like doom coming closer, his hand reaches for me, and he clutches my chin between his thumb and forefinger.

  It’s a soft touch, so soft it shocks my warm skin. The emotionless look in his dark eyes is anything but gentle, though. A sadistic smirk lifts the corner of his lips.

  A shudder emerges from deep within my soul.

  It’s the look of someone out to destroy, to maim and mutilate—and he’ll do it all with a smile on his face.

  “L-let me go.” It’s the pleading of the dying, my voice. The last murmur of the dead.

  His grip tightens on my jaw until I wince. “That’s not how it works. Remember the rules?”

  “W-what rules?”

  “Break willingly and I might let you collect the pieces.”

  My heart thunders until the machines erupt with sound. “What—”

  My words are cut off when he leans closer until his breath tickles along my skin. Another involuntary shudder slides down my spine, and goosebumps form along my limbs.

  I don’t know if it’s because of fear, or if it’s something else.

  This close, he’s even more fatally gorgeous and dangerous. A flicker of connection grips hold of me.

  I know him from somewhere, but where?

  He runs his tongue from under my eye to the corner of my lip. Something violent and out of control takes over my body, and more goosebumps erupt.

  I stare at him with trembling lips.

  “Welcome back to your custom-made hell, monster.”

  Continue Reading All The Lies.

  Deviant King Chapter One

  They say it doesn’t take long for your life to be flipped upside down.

  A moment.

  A second.

  And it’s all over.

  I should’ve known. If I had, I would’ve done things differently.

  Maybe I would’ve walked the other way.

  Maybe my tale wouldn’t have ended the way it did.

  But the thing about ‘maybes’? They’re useless.

  I wave at my aunt as I stand on the old, Victorian-era pavement. She waves back from the window of her silver Audi with a blinding smile.

  Aunt Blair’s red hair never lost its fiery, natural colour, hanging in perfect waves to her shoulders. She has high cheekbones and a tall, slender, model-like figure that makes my awkward, sixteen-year-old body look like a potato in comparison.

  I strive to be her when I grow up. Not only in the looks department — although I’ll never pull off the red hair, but also the hard work and the personality. She’s a partner with her husband in their overflowing business. Their small company, Quinn Engineering, grows tenfold larger each day, and I couldn’t be more proud of them.

  “Show them what you got, Elsie!” She honks.

  “Aunt.” My face flames as I search sideways, spying for anyone who might have heard. “Elsa. Just Elsa at school.”

  “But I like my Elsie.” She pouts in an anime-cute way. Her phone rings in a standard, professional melody. Her eyebrows furrow as she checks the call before silencing it. “You’ll be okay, hon?”

  I nod. “You didn’t have to drive me.”

  “I wouldn’t miss my Elsie’s first day in this huge effing place for the world.” She motions around. “Freaking Royal Elite School! Can you believe it?”

  “I wouldn’t have been here without you and Uncle.”

  “Aw stop it. We might have pulled a few strings, but if you didn’t have the grades, you wouldn’t be here.”

  And money. She forgets to mention that it costs a fortune and several organs sold on the black market to get me here amongst the elite.

  Still, the weight that’s been perching on my chest loosens a little at her contagious enthusiasm. “Teamwork.”

  “Teamwork!” She opens her car door and whooshes outside to clasp me in a mama bear hug.

  I try to ignore the level of weird my future schoolmates must think of me and wrap my arms around Aunt. The smell of cocoa lotion and Nina Ricci’s perfume envelops me in a safe cocoon.

  When she pulls back, her cobalt blue eyes shine with unshed tears.

  “Aunt…?”

  “I’m just so proud of you, hon. Look at you all grown up and so much like…” She trails off and wipes under her eye with the side of her forefinger.

  She doesn’t have to say it for me to catch the meaning.

  I look so much like my mum. While Aunt took after my ginger-haired grandfather, Mum took after my blonde grandmother.

  Or that’s what I’m told.

  The ache that never died resurfaces like a demon from the dark, murky water.

  Time heals everything is a big fat lie.

  Eight years later, I still feel the loss to my bones.

  It still aches.

  It still hurts.

  It still brings frightening nightmares.

  “Gah, I’m being so sappy on my baby’s first day at school.” Aunt Blair gives me another quick hug. “Don't forget your meds and no junk food. Go get them, hon.”

  I wait until she gets into her car and shouts something at a slacking driver in front of her. Aunt has no filter when it comes to her precious time. That’s why I feel guilty when she insisted on driving me.

  Once her car speeds into the distance, I resist the urge to call and tell her to come back.

  Now, I’m truly on my own.

  No matter how old I am, the feeling of being stranded isn’t something anyone forgets.

  I stare at the massive building in front of me.

  The old architecture springs an eerie, imposing feeling. Ten tall towers adorn the perimeters of the school’s main building. Three-storey high, the school sits on a large piece of land surrounded by an enormous garden that’s better suited for a palace instead of an educational establishment.

  Royal Elite School is basically its name.

  Located in the outskirts of London, the school was founded by King Henry IV at the beginning of the 14th century to provide education for scholars that later served in his court. After that, every king used it to cultivate his best subjects.

  The school was later owned by aristocratic families and influential figures. They have the harshest and most closed-off entrance rates in the country. To this day, Royal Elite School — or RES — accepts only one per cent of the intelligent and filthy rich elite. Kids here inherit high IQ’s alongside their parents' massive bank accounts.

  Most prime ministers, parliament members, and business tycoons graduated from this school.

  The high-privileged education can give me a sure push into Cambridge. Aunt Blair and Uncle Jaxon studied there, and they’re my role models in everything.

  My dream is theirs. Teamwork.

  This is my chance to escape all the rumours in my old school and start anew.

  A fresh page.

  A new chapter.

  A blank book.

  I stare down at my uniform that my aunt pressed to perfection and the adorable black ballerina flats — a present from Uncle Jaxon. The blue skirt is tight at my waist and flares down to a little above my knees where my thigh-high stockings accentuate my tall legs.

  My white button-down shirt is tucked into the skirt’s high-waist. A dark blue ribbon snakes around my neck like a dainty tie. I also wear the obligatory school jacket on which the school’s golden symbol is engraved; a shield, a lion, and a crown.

  My white-ish blonde hair falls in a fluffy ponytail down my back. I went out of my way by applying a bit of makeup. The mascara enhances my eyelashes and brings out my baby blue eyes. I even put on Aunt’s Nina Ricci perfume.

  Today is the day that determines my life for the next three years. Hell, it’ll determine my life afterwards if – when – I get into Cambridge, so I needed to do everything right.

  As I stride through the school’s huge, stony arch, I try to mimic the other students’ confidence. It’s hard when I already feel like an outsider. Students here wear their pristine uniforms as if they’re made from gold-soaked cloth. The aura of high, mighty, and a bit snobby drifts from every chatter and measured step.

  Ninety per cent of Royal Elite School attended Royal Elite Junior prior to this. They chat amongst each other like old friends reuniting after the summer while I stand out as a loner.

  Again.

  An itch starts under my skin and spreads along my hands. My breathing deepens and my steps turn forceful as memories filter back in.

  Poor thing.

  Did you hear what happened to her parents?

  Heard she’s a charity case by her aunt and uncle.

  I shake those voices away and forge through. This time, I’m determined to blend in. No one here knows about my past, and unless they specifically search me, they wouldn’t.

  Elsa Quinn is a new person.

  By the entrance, I spot a student who’s avoiding the crowd by sneaking her way along the side pathway leading to the huge double doors. I notice her because I was also contemplating the same path.

  While I’d love to fit in, crowds cause that familiar itch to rise under my skin.

  The loner’s skirt is bigger. She’s on the thick side and has the roundest, cutest features I’ve seen on a girl my age. With her huge rounded eyes, plump lips and braided long brown hair, she almost looks like a child.

  And she’s the first presence in this school that doesn’t give me the ‘untouchable’ vibe.

  I catch up to her and match her fast-walking pace. “Morning.”

  Her head snaps my way, but she soon stares at her feet and tightens her grip on the strap of her messenger bag.

  “I’m sorry.” I offer my most welcoming smile. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  Perhaps she’s one of the new kids here, too, and feels intimidated.

  “You shouldn’t be talking to me,” she whispers under her breath. Even her voice is cute.

  “Why not?”

  She stares at me for the first time with eyes so green, they nearly sparkle like a tropical sea. “Wow. You have beautiful eyes.”

  “T-thanks.” Her lips curve into a tentative smile as if she shouldn’t be doing the smiling thing. She kicks imaginary rocks as she speaks. “You’re too pretty, you shouldn’t be talking to the school’s outcast.”

  “Outcast?” I echo, incredulous. “There’s no such thing as an outcast. If I want to talk to you, I will.”

  She troubles her bottom lip and I swear, I’m itching to pinch her adorable cheeks.

  “Are you new here, too?” I ask, instead of acting like a creep on the first meeting.

  She shakes her head. “I studied in REJ.”

  “REJ?”

  “Royal Elite Junior.”

  “Oh.”

  Considering how she wasn’t in a horde of people, I assumed she’s new. Perhaps her friends haven’t arrived yet.

  “Do you want me to show you around?” she asks in a tentative, small voice.

  Aunt, Uncle, and I came for a tour during the summer, but I won’t refuse a chance to bond with my first potential friend.

 

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