Page 12 of Redeeming the Villain
Breathing deeply, I take a step closer to the window.What is she doing in there?
But she answers my question without a word.
As if a switch was flicked, the room bursts with life as Alora begins to play the piano. She isn’t pecking the notes like a chicken, but like she has a thousand fingers, dancing through all of the perfect strokes.
Why has she been keeping this part of her a secret?
I’ve seen her social media accounts, stalked them intensely for years, and not once has she posted anything about this.
I didn’t know she was even musically inclined, let alone play likethat. Inching closer toward the window, I hesitantly peek inside, leaning my cheek against the frame of the window.
My mouth dries, and my lips part at the sight before me. I don’t know what I was expecting, but being mesmerized wasn’t even close.
The piano sits perpendicular to the door, tucked against the right wall. Alora’s side is to me, giving me a perfect outline of her profile, just a few feet away.
She continues to play with vigor, her eyes sealed shut and lips slightly parted. She is a stark difference from the dark, haunting song flowing from her fingers. She’s completely transported into her music, swaying with the movements of her hands as they travel the keys by pure memory alone.
Through the small window, I watch her head tilt backward. Her wavy blonde hair falls from her face, further exposing the pained expression etched in her every feature.
So delicate, so fragile, yet … she looks sopowerful.
Maybe this is herhockey, the one part of life where she feels most comfortable, where her true purpose lies.
The brief moment of empathy seizes my body, my muscles going rigid. A thrum of self-hatred blooms in my chest as I remind myself that she doesn’t deserve empathy.
This is something I could take away from her or turn against her if I wanted. I could make her hate the piano. Ridicule her to the extent that anytime she touched one again, she couldn’t help but think of me.
I should throw this door open and show her that no matter where she goes on campus, she isn’t safe from my reach.
But I don’t move. I’m frozen, my body weakened by the sight of her. Feeling helpless and under her control.
Add that to the list of reasons for my hatred. She was never supposed to have this power over me, to manipulate my wrath. It’s infuriating on a whole new level.
I’ve gone years hating her; that isn’t about to change now. But I have a feeling that my fascination with her won’t either.
Alora was always the object of my obsession, sitting at the center of everything I did back then. Even before I learned her last name.
She caught my eye the first day she walked into Avandale High. Drawing me in with that blue stare and pillowy lips. With her aura of warmth and gentleness. I wanted to feel the fragility crumble beneath my desire as she came apart around me.
Then everything changed when I heard the teacher mention who she really was. It was like a bomb went off in the room, destroying the reality I’d thought I was living. My lust transformed to an all-consuming hatred.
But as much as I’ve tried, that desire has never faded. It still tortures me with thoughts and feelings of the one girl I can never have, of the one girl I will neverwantto want.
Her fingers and movements slow, and I shift out of view of the window, flattening my back against the wall.
Suddenly, everything feels wrong.
My blood rushes through my veins, racing as my heart thumps faster and faster. My palms begin to sweat, and my clothes feel heavier and tighter than before.
What the fuck is happening to me?
I run my hand down my throat as my body warms a thousand degrees.
I need to get out of here.
Pushing away from the wall, I stride toward the door I came through, each step harder than the last, like gravity is weighing down more than before.
I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe.
