Chapter 91 THE ASHES FROM THE FIRE
SLOANE’S POINT OF VIEW.
“Everhart…isn’t that…Ace’s name?” I whispered.
“Yes, it is, Sloane. I’m his father.”
“Oh, did I say that out loud?”
“Yes, you did.” He said, chuckling, and I wanted the earth to swallow me whole.
“Oh, sorry. I was just curious.” I said, embarrassed.
“It’s alright, Sloane. I hope to see you on stage tonight. I’m told you’re fantastic.” He said, not once looking away from me. For some reason, his eyes evoked something in me….I have no idea what it is, but for some reason, my nerves felt like a bundle, as my skin tingled softly.
“Yes, sir.”
I nodded, pulling my hand from his, and walking away so he and Ms. Vale could speak.
“She’s just as you said she was.” I heard him whisper as I walked away.
In no time, it was time for the play to start.
“Places, everyone!” Ms. Vale called shrilly, clapping her hands loudly as she did the final touches on everyone’s costumes.
“Break a leg, Sloane,” Ace called from beside me, flashing me a wink before staring ahead.
“You too, Ace.”
The velvet curtains loomed in front of me, seeming impossibly heavy, like they were holding back not just the stage but my entire fate. The murmur of the crowd leaked through the small crack, a symphony of whispers, clinking glasses, and the occasional sharp laugh only the elite could have. Tonight wasn’t just a school play, because it was televised, sponsored, packed with investors, dignitaries, and power brokers who never set foot in Ravenscroft High unless it benefited them, and they absolutely had to.
Ms. Vale had gone to great lengths to ensure that everything would benefit the school and everyone in the cast and crew, sending out letters to the best in the country so they could be a part of it tonight.
And somewhere in that sea of faces out there, Valerian Everhart was waiting.
The man’s eyes still haunted me. They had this piercing shade of blue mixed with green that struck my mind, the exact shade of something I couldn’t remember—something buried deep in the crevices of my mind. When he’d shaken my hand, I’d felt somewhat… dizzy. I’d felt a flash of recognition; it was like I knew him….or like I should know him.
“Sloane, curtain in five.”
I flinched slightly as Ms. Vale touched my arm, her tough light, but at the same time, her hand trembled on my skin. Her smile was soft, encouraging, but her eyes shone with something heavier; it felt like a mix of tears, and an emotion I couldn’t place.
She seemed….sad, but at the same time….it was like she was expectant.
“You’ll be brilliant, I just know it,” she whispered, her voice trembling as she spoke softly, like she wanted only me to hear what she said. “Just… tell the story like it belongs to you.”
Her words prickled against my skin; they felt strange and heavy, like they weighed tons.
Lucien’s voice suddenly cut through the haze in my head, low and commanding, making my skin prickle with confidence this time around, as though I could still feel his lips against my ear: ‘Everyone’s gonna stare at you tonight and think—damn, that girl was born to own the stage.’ He’s said that to me last night in bed after he’d fucked the fear out of me.
I straightened my spine immediately, and my hands stopped shaking, as I stared ahead with my chin high.
And in that moment, the curtains pulled open to reveal me standing behind them.
The stage lights blinded me at first, hot and relentless. I stepped forward anyway; the script burned into my bones. My first line left my lips smooth as silk.
“Once upon a time,” I whispered, but my voice was loud enough for all of them to hear me speak, “there was a little girl who lived in a house full of fire.”
The audience stilled, watching with rapt attention.
Somewhere in the darkened rows, a cane tapped against the floor, thrumming to the rhythm of my heartbeat.
SERAPHINA’S POINT OF VIEW.
Tonight had to go well….it just had to, Years of planning, working, ensuring that all would lead to this moment, so if it failed…..it would be devastating.
“No, uncle Reginald! Don’t shoot my mommy!” Sloane’s voice blasted off the walls as she ran away from Ace, who played Uncle Reginald.
Everything suddenly felt real again, the video my father had played for me and Ace to watch while he planned this filtered in my mind. But Sloane was up there, acting it out….acting out her childhood.
“Come here, Sloane. You’re mine!” Uncle Reginald yelled. Ace captured the dark hue in his voice every time he spoke like him.
“Ah!” Sloane screamed, falling to the floor, after tripping.
“Got you now!” He said, chuckling. From the corner of my eye, I watched my mother tremble, her lips wobbling as she cried silently while watching the stage. I couldn’t imagine how traumatizing this was for her right now, watching the horror she had to endure years ago at the hands of the man she should never have trusted.
“You’re mine, Sloane!” He yelled before slamming the log of wood on her head.
She passes out immediately, and he turns to the crowd with a lighter in his hands.
“Now, I’ll burn it all to the ground, and it will all be mine! The wealth, the power…everything!”
“You sick bastard, what have you done to my family?” The girl playing my mother screams, walking on stage, and running over to Sloane. “Sloanie, honey…please wake up.” She looks back at Uncle Reginald. “What did you do?”
“I told you to be mine. I told you to leave my brother, and come with me. You should have been mine, all this time. I worked tirelessly, just so I could have you, but you refused; you always wanted only him. Now, you’re gonna burn, your husband, you, and your daughter; the one that should have been ours, not your’s and my fucking brother’s, will be all mine!!”
“You’re sick! You think she’ll never realise this later on? Sloane is a smart kid, she’ll find everything out.”
“That’s if she even has the memory of it.” He said, chuckling, before pulling out his gun, aiming, and pulling the trigger.
He then pulls her bleeding body to where my father, or the person playing him, lies, flicks the lighter on, and throws it on them. The flame catches instantly, burning them.
At that moment, Sloane wakes up, looking groggily at the scene.
“No! Mom, Dad!” She screams, running over to their bodies.
And in that moment, the curtain falls, signalling the end of the play. My eyes water slightly as a tear rolls down my left cheek before I quickly wipe it off, rise to my feet, and walk to the stage, where everything else will go down as planned.