Fourteen

I recall the note in my head and feel the simmering hatred burn inside me. Gray Langdon has done it big time and he even made sure to let the entire world be the living witnesses! I suffered inside the bathroom for three long hours—naked, cold, and humiliated—until my friends came to save me. I cannot tolerate this any longer. Clearly, I've underestimated him and his group. If this is his ultimate revenge, then I have no choice but to use my last card: destruction.

"This is not over yet," I say, my voice shaking. I down the half-empty Budweiser in one long gulp, draining it to the last drop and smashing the bottle against the tabletop. The noise in the clubhouse falls silent instantly and the music stops blaring through the speakers. All eyes turn on me, some are amused but the rest are slightly panicked. "Whuttaryuhlukinat?" I slur, swaying my arms in front of me.

"This is nothing, guys. Carry on," Zette explains but the crowd continues to stare at me.

"Go on," Katrin tells the crowd urgently. "Don't push her, please."

Still, I could feel eyes on my back. I whirl around and see everyone visibly flinch. "I am Lucy Ferdelance Woods, you fucktards. Can I not drink in fucking peace?" Then, turning back to the bar counter, I bury my head in my arms and groan. "God, why are these people allowed to breathe?"

"She's interrupting the party!" I hear one from the crowd bark. My head snaps up, emerald eyes searching for the owner of the voice. From the corner of my eye, I catch my manager shake her head at someone warningly. It's Clara Lois, a girl about my age with long, brown hair crowning her small head. An actress. I stand up and walk over to her, my forceful gaze penetrating her courageous front.

"Did you just say something? Planning to sue me for calling you 'fucktard', aren't you? Go ahead; sue me with your pathetic lawyer who's probably just the miserable, dim-witted district attorney in town. I've got no problem with that. My lawyer though is a fearless guy who eats the prosecution alive on trial. Now, you certainly have a problem with that. Choose wisely." The girl has turned white and she shakes her head in remorse. I scoff and head back to the counter. I grab a Van Gogh, I think, and take a long swig from it.

"Stop drinking already!" Katrin attempts to steal the bottle but I shove her away.

"Leave me alone! Clear the bar or I'll tell Marcel Woods to get you off the island immediately. Mark my words, all of you!"

After a confused silence, a shuffling of feet breaks the momentum as the crowd tries to scamper away.

"You heard her!" Zette yells to the group. "She may not look like it but she's serious about what she said. Now get out!" There is a roar of chaos behind me, but I continue drinking. The burning sensation inside my body feels like a relief, a soothing caress to calm my disturbed nerves. The number of empty bottles in front of me keeps growing and I add another, finishing the Gogh swiftly like I'm some alcoholic bitch—which will probably be my ultimate end tonight.

But that's the least of my problems. Gray Langdon has evolved from a mere challenger to a very formidable opponent. He bested me for two consecutive times already, goddamn it! Angered at this thought, I throw the bottles one by one against the wall, the earsplitting breaking of glasses echoing across the paneled corners of the room.

"Just how many bottles do you plan to break?" Zette asks from behind the counter with Katrin and Jessa hiding behind her, all three of them looking frightened. I glance at the floor, at the slivers of broken glass, thinking hard. Mapping out an attack is impossible for me right now. I could already feel the mix of alcohol clouding my mind, trapping me in a foggy state of lethargy.

"Gimmesummor," I slur, my sense of plane tilting dangerously. I try to stand but the world around me is swaying.

"You're drunk, Lucy. Let's get you settled in your room. You can always avenge yourself tomorrow and make him regret this. It's almost midnight, come on." Katrin attempts to put her arm over my shoulders but I shrug her off. I stumble away from the mess I've made, tripping over one of the upturned chairs in the process.

"Does she even know her room?" I hear Jessa ask the two girls but I pay no attention to any of them.

"Oh shit!" I manage to yelp before landing face-down on the hard floor. It's a good thing I didn't fall on the shards because it's gonna be one hell of a disaster. Fuck this. I scramble to stand but everything is suddenly in a dizzying motion.

"She's gone mad! Let's help her up and drag her to her room!" Jessa is shrieking but I extend my arms in front of me to fend them off.

"Nobody touch me!" I mumble loudly. "Nobody touch me or I swear I'm gonna blow this island off and sink this to Davy Jones's locker."

"What the hell is she saying?" one of them quips but I ignore them. Concentrating hard, I stagger to the exit with full effort and I eventually find my way out.

"Don't you dare follow me," I warn them as I stumble out of the clubhouse dazedly.

Maybe a little dip in the pool could help me loosen up a bit. Jeez. I could feel myself burning up and getting high. I've never been this drunk before where everything is literally floating around me. Then I notice a half-empty bottle of another Van Gogh lying on the grass and I almost leap in joy. Okay, maybe that's overreacting but who cares? I guzzle it down greedily and throw the bottle away, only to hear it clunk in the distance.

"I hate you, Gray Langdon!" I scream on top of my lungs. I don't care if someone hears it or not because for all I know, everybody's asleep by now. My voice resounds across the empty space and ricochets back to me. "I hate you to death!"

Grabbing a scattered towel on top of a table, I strip away my black skater skirt and white blouse. I kick away my black Converse as well. Cool breeze kisses my skin and I shiver involuntarily despite the fiery presence of alcohol in my system. I plunge in the pool without hesitating and feel the warm water envelop me like a soft blanket. I sink down to the pool floor, holding my breath but keeping my eyes open. The darkness is so overwhelming yet welcoming that it almost feels like it's trying to comfort me. For a moment, I feel calm, peaceful. For a moment, I could forget who I am. For a moment, I'm under no scrutiny at all. For a moment, I could just be plain Lucy—no title, no burden of responsibility.

But that's just for a moment. Eventually my lungs protest for air and I resurface. Then everything slowly comes back to me: the burden of living as a Helterground daughter, the loneliness, the need for affection. It's even more suffocating than holding my breath underwater.

I let myself do some backstrokes and I stare at the night sky. I wish I could be like the stars. They glimmer endlessly, watching the earth in silent fascination. They shine in the sky and I love how each of them have their own shimmer, their own light.

But Lucy Woods has no light.

I have often considered running away to some far-flung country where no one recognizes me. I could lead a life of my own, maybe open some small bookstore or café. I could adopt a different name, like Jane Doe or Alice Smith. Anything. I would do anything to escape this reality.

I sigh. As if. Even before I was born, my entire life has been planned out. There's no such thing as destiny, fate or whatever it's called. Not everything happens for a reason. Sometimes, all it takes to lead you somewhere is by making choices. In my case, I've got no choice at all.

To hell with this. Why am I suddenly being so over-emotional?

I propel myself toward the shallow part of the pool and wade out of the water, grateful that I've finally recovered from drunkenness somehow. Tomorrow when I'm sober enough, I'll make sure Gray's triumph wouldn't last long. This is my island, this is my territory.

Slowly wrapping the towel around my body, I tread the path toward the hotel barefooted. The stony path is lined with palm trees along the sides with lanterns in between. I stagger for a while but as I get used to moving, my mind is becoming clearer. After passing by the warm lobby where the male attendant is obviously ogling me, I stop by the elevator and frown. Crap. What the hell is my room number? I can't even remember which floor it is. But I sure as hell won't go over to the reception area to ask that maniac whose eyes are still hungrily going over my half-naked body.

I hurry inside the elevator and decide to just take a chance. Even if I get on the wrong floor and trespass the wrong room, I could always drive away the people inside and claim it for myself.

What. I'm Lucy Ferdelance Woods. I rule. Even though I hate my life, I could always use it to my advantage.

Pressing the round button with a big 3 on it, I wait patiently as the elevator moves upward. There's a silent "ding" and then it opens to a dimly-lit hallway with ten closed doors on each side.

Tiptoeing silently through the carpeted floor, I pick out the room 310 on the left side and test the knob. It's not locked. Forever thanking the goddess for my luck, I creep inside the dark and silent suite. A bedside lamp is on, casting a warm orange glow on the bed and a small portion of the room.

Skulking across room and toward a large oaken drawer against the wall, I rummage for a shirt hurriedly. I curse silently when my fingers almost get caught inside while closing the drawer. When I'm about to open the second one, I hear the bathroom door creak. I freeze in my place and hold my breath. If I won't move, the occupant might not notice me and he might head directly to the bed to sleep.

Positioning myself against the wall between the drawer and the bed, I stay still and wait for someone to emerge from the bathroom. I just hope that whoever he is, he would be too sleepy to turn all the lights on. A silhouette appears from the open door and I swallow hard, eyes straining to identify the figure. As it approaches the well-lit portion of the room, my heart stops beating in shock and disbelief when I finally recognize the person.

Standing there, eyes wide and hair disheveled, he opens his mouth to speak. "Luce?"

But wait, something's wrong. I think he thinks that he's dreaming. Sleepwalking, maybe? I keep my mouth shut as he walks toward the bed—no shit, toward me—and I could feel my body tremble. I want to dash to the door but I'm rooted in place. His hands begin to caress my bare shoulders slowly, gently, and then the other snakes upward to my face. I'm still frozen, trapped inside his brown eyes that look so enchantingly beautiful in the faint light.

I gasp softly when he puts his arm around my waist and he pulls me close to him. Terrified as I am, my body refuses to move. I'm still confused whether he's dreaming or awake but every knot in my mind slowly untangles themselves when he brings his face closer to mine. His warm breath sends shivers on my bare skin, leaving goose bumps. And then it happens in a way that I never thought is possible with him.

Gray Langdon is kissing me.