elodie blake, district one | fin

There was something missing from your pretty, picturesque life. You’ve lived it so far with a pearlescent smile that you’ve been told could brighten up an entire room and a silver tongue that could leave the world begging at your fingertips. It’s been what most people would consider perfect — an adoring mother that actually gives a shit and a father who knows how to push you just the right amount. But for you, it’s not enough. Maybe you were just selfish for having everything anyone could ever want and yet still you ache for something more, still craving to fill that hollow piece of your mosaicked heart.

You never expected it to be him.

Warren Kane. He had been in all of your classes since grade school, always laughing up a storm in the corner with his stupid friends. He had that schoolboy charm about him, with his tousled hair that made it look like he just woke up and an adorable shit-eating grin that could make your heart jump. Warren was a golden boy through and through. But he was no one, just an above-average career from a middle-class family with nothing noteworthy to their name, at least that’s what your parents would say. Had he been born into a prominent family like the Vanburen's or the Frays or even the cluster-fuck of Le Roux's — names that hold power within each of their syllables, maybe he would've been someone. You could already hear what your father would say if you brought a boy like him home, the disappointment dripping off like poison from his lips.

But maybe that's what made him so intriguing.

You'd been caught up playing the role of the perfect daughter, the perfect student, the perfect career for your entire life — doing every little thing you could to please everyone around you. Sit, smile, repeat. Sit, smile, repeat. Sit, smile, repeat. Over and over and over again until your insides start to ache. Mother dressed you like a doll and played puppet master with your strings. Father paraded you around like a trophy in front of all of his friends like you were something to invest in, something to gawk at, something to revere. They loved you, but they were more in love with what they wanted you to be. And no matter how many smiles you faked or how hard you threw yourself into your training, you knew you could never be that. It felt as though your rib cage had been dipped in lead, trapping you on the ground and never letting you catch a breath.

So maybe that’s why when Warren flashed you one of his shit-eating grins that you’ve seen a million times before you let it melt your brittle heart, because maybe then you would feel something.

You saw him at a party - only a little bit tipsy and probably high too. You weren't sure what came over you, but you walked over to him and grabbed him by his collar, pulling his body into yours. He tasted like whiskey. His lips were a drug, pulling you in and making you never want to break away from this moment.

You wanted it to last forever.

Warren's hands snaked around your hips, your knees weakening at his touch. He was electric against your skin, bones trembling as he ran his hands against your body.

It felt as though you had never lived before this moment.

It only took that one night, that one kiss and that one locked door. It only took that one moment for him to light a match to your paper heart.