White by Aria Cole

Author:Aria Cole [Cole, Aria]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-06-02T18:30:00+00:00

fifteen

Eve

“Eve, I know everything,” he said again when I still hadn’t responded.

My brain ran a thousand miles an hour as my hands shook in front of me. My heart thundered and my breathing picked up in ragged pants. The bathroom seemed to darken before my vision went hazy and I crumpled on the cold tile floor. “Eve!” was the last word I heard before the world went dark.

“Here, take a sip.” Asher’s voice pulled me from the dark abyss. His worried eyes assessed my face and body, one palm under my chin as he held a small bottle of water to my lips. “Just a sip. You fainted. You’ll be okay.” His soothing voice calmed my ragged nerves.

But why had I fainted?

“Take a sip, sweetheart, and I’ll tell you everything.” His eyes watched me, the fear within them growing by the second. Suddenly, the memory of the last few minutes came back, and I scrambled out of his reach. Glancing around, I found myself in a foreign space, his bedroom, I decided, once I saw the immaculately kept closet and twin en suite, just like my mine.

I clutched at the fibers of the duvet covering his bed as his eyes peered back at me, slain with guilt and shame. “H-how do you know me?” I asked haltingly, feeling utterly trapped and betrayed. I knew for certain that I was locked in a luxury prison where my life certainly wasn’t my own. I was Asher’s puppet, nothing more and nothing less. I’d been so foolish to think there could be anything more.

“I was there the night it happened.” His words echoed around the room and they seemed to repeat. Was he still saying it or was I imagining it? How could he have been there? Been there for which part?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” was the only reply I could form. Asher shook his head slowly, then ran a palm over his face and stood, pacing across the room to the floor-length windows overlooking the front of his estate.

“I was there the night your parents were killed,” he said in slow, measured words.

I swallowed, clutching my fists in the white duvet, thinking I hadn’t heard him right. “No, no.” I shook my head, my mind pedaling back to that night so many years ago. Sirens, lights, crying. So much crying. I think they were my tears.

“How were you there? That’s not true. You must have the wrong person. I was only six…” I trailed off, unable to fit the puzzle pieces of his story together. “What do you mean you were there?” I felt myself growing hysterical, something I’d managed to push down to the depths before now.

“August nineteenth.” He said the one date that I would never, ever forget. “I was sixteen. I left a party.” He was shoving a hand through his hair, and despite the words he was saying, I still wanted to run to him and comfort his breaking soul. I’d hadn’t seen him so affected by anything in the short time I’d known him.

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