okay, so this here is the first chapter of my first ever story called damned. it was up on wattpad for awhile, but i took it down once it hit about seven chapters and 9k reads, i think! this was my first time writing as well, and funfact: i've only been writing and reading for about less than a year. so i just thought it'd be interesting to put it up here, for old times sake ;) enjoy my trash!

***

"It's almost midnight! The countdown's going to start soon!" I battled with the blaring music over the sea of intoxicated teens, who clogged the room's every corner.

Overthrown by nightfall, the neon strobe lights bounced off the walls and bodies dirty dancing trapped me in the centre of their mess, each span of skin sticky as they obliviously shoved me around with shoulders and hips. I picked up whiffs of odour, booze, and even the distinct scent of sex in the vicinity, invading my lungs as I pushed my way through the crowd. The heavy, rambunctious thumps pounding the walls were like shots of adrenaline, pumping a certain high into the blood of the teens, rousing their filthy acts.

Yet, in spite of all these events, my eyes were fixed onto a single presence, a foot away from me. It was dark, but I could see him - the only man my eyes could lay on. He reached out between the crowd and weaved his fingers into mine, igniting this burning spark I still wasn't used to the feeling, and each time it made my heart pick up a pace not any slower than sixty miles a minute, nonetheless a spark I couldn't be without. I pulled myself to him and followed hastily, keeping close to his back like he was my knight in shining armour, shielding me from the messy throng of delinquents as we left the room. We fell out of the flood and stumbled into the backyard to catch the impending performance.

"3... 2... 1... Happy New Year!"

Opening with a popping crackle then an ear-splitting screech, bursts of sparks shot into the night ― their sky-bound destinies. Wisps of cobalt twirled, while flames of scarlet and amber pranced, and hints of chartreuse and orchid waltz over the royal blue theatre. With every step they took, moves were swept in the form of marvellous curves that bloomed like newborn flowers.

Each stride burned with impatience, each always exclusive and exquisite, never the same. Taking a deep breath, I marvelled at the glowing bundle of blazing colours splayed in the cool evening sky, like a rainbow in the night. I took a look around me to see if I was the only one gaping at the beautiful dance, and wasn't surprised to see that the rest of the audience too was staring at the navy stage, their eyes seared with the display above and glinting with wonder. Grinning wildly, my eyes then set back on the act.

Eventually, each member ended their dance by gracefully extinguishing into nothingness, the heavy curtains of the dark closing their act. The fine spectacle of the fireworks, along with the bright, sated smile of the moon hanging above, made our own finale even more perfect than I thought it could be. My eyes averted to the beautiful boy beside me, who was already gazing at me with soft, sweet tenderness

He came a step closer, and if I'd tilted my head up, my nose would've bumped his chin, and with the plane of my tummy against his, I could feel the warm heat from alcohol's repercussions seep from his body to mine through the thin fabric between us. His strong arms snaked around the dip of my waist and pulled me closer, before securing his hold with the clasp of his two hands to rest on my tailbone. Our faces were now one on one as our foreheads fell onto one another's.

"Happy new year, baby," he whispered, the words slightly slurred out and heated breath softly spurted against my lips as he spoke, notes of cherry vodka coated each exhale. I giggled at the adorable boy before me, cupping his cheeks, as we reached in and ―

"Rhea?" He interrupts.

"Mm?" What?

"It's time for breakfast, Commissioner Hayes!" The same voice strikes.

I groan, shoving my face into my soft pillow, stuffing my nose with the cosy scent of vanilla within, praying it's sweetness will erase the ghastly recollection. But it doesn't work. It never does. Why can't I get you out? I lay down for a few more minutes, relishing the way the soft cotton feels beneath my limbs before letting reality kick in. Rubbing my eyes, I throw the taupe sheets off the bed and pad to the toilet.

After washing my face, my eyes acquaint themselves with the harsh morning rays fleeting across the room. I get a glimpse of my reflection and decide that I look as bad as what goes through in my head. Well, shit. Appalled, I shake my head after and languidly make my way downstairs.

"Morning sunshine." He greets brightly as I enter the kitchen and plop myself on the bar stool, slouching over the counter with my head down.

I groggily lift my head slightly to peek through my fallen hair.

"Morning, Dad." I'm met with gunmetal blue orbs flecked with silver lights, framed by dark, caterpillar brows, mirroring the thick bush that hovers just above his lips. I've always felt it gives him a certain authoritative edge, despite being really scruffy on certain occasions.

I really admire how incredibly attractive he is for his age. Even with his sunken under eyes, hair with a body of black streaked silver, and deep frown lines that have lost to time, he's still quite the catch.

But paired with his respectable position and honorable accomplishments, I'm not surprised whenever I hear the silver fox go on with stories like how Lieutenant Johnson sent flowers to his office with an invite out for dinner, or that one time the hunched back suspect with the huge mole from the David Miller case tried to seduce him in the midst of their harsh interrogation.

Yuck. I push away the thought and sprawl my arms out while yawning, making some horrid sound that resembles a wheezing frog. After I recover from my moment, I blink and smile at him sheepishly.

"Late night? Some fresh, homemade waffles by yours truly oughta get you up." He offers as his eyes crinkle lovingly; the midsection of his face hidden behind the wave of steam from the mug of coffee now lifted to his lips.

Mornings and evenings are the only times I get to see him, because being the head of a police department isn't an easy job. That's why we take our meals with all seriousness, being the only bridge for us to share our daily hassles. We've hardly ever missed a meal together. If we did, it'd had to be for a ridiculously urgent matter. Even then, not a lot of things are more important than the time we have together.

My eyes rake over his attire for the day. He's ready for work. His burly body layered with his regular crisp, tailor-made suit and noble black and gold pin winking on his collar, making him look dashing as usual. Not to forget his beloved red tie, striped white and lined blue draped beneath the buttons of his suit, an item I've learned to dote on over the years.

The garment brings back a time when my mother had to tie it for him every morning. I remember their routine by heart, after asking to hear it countless times:

"It'd be after she'd scold me for forgetting to cap the toothpaste, but just before I started reading the papers."

Even though he was more than sure of how to tie it himself, he wanted to grab any opportunity he got to wonder at her beauty closely, from the day they met.

He'd tell me about her little quirks, the way she would scrunch her nose before she disagreed on something, and her tongue would curl up the corner of her lip when she was concentrating on something hard ― habits I got from her. Though we were already carbon copies, I acceding to her espresso curls and large olive eyes.

I practically know all these bits and pieces about her like the back of my hand, and I let him tell me the same stories over and over again. It never gets tiring because just watching him talk about her each time and the way his eyes alone light up has never made me want to stop listening. It's his way of coping. I was very young, almost too young to remember much of her, but when she passed away, even I felt like something a part of our home had ascended.

Kohen's voice enters the room. "If you're talking about the Aunt Jemima mix, we're all out. I finished them yesterday." He shoots, and he scores.

I twist my body on the bar stool to face him, and just as I presumed, I catch his eyes in mid roll.

"It's fine, Dad. Coffee's fine. Hey." I then smile at my older brother.

"Hey." Smiling back, he kisses my head then ruffles my hair gently as he goes round to the coffee machine.

"I am wounded. Your old man is in fact very capable of whipping up a batch of pancakes. Anyway, a busy man has to do what he's gotta do." My father feigns offence with a slightly playful lilt, almost unnoticeable but I catch it as he warily eyes Kohen. Assessing his mood, of course.

They never really got along. Hell, they don't see eye to eye, even on physical terms. I was only five and he was a little over ten when our mother passed away, so I can imagine how much more of a toll it took on him that on me. It was like the string that held their relationship together got snipped into two once she was gone.

There are thousands of pictures hanging above the stairwell of little Ko and my father, full of this loving warmth that makes your stomach tickle. My favourite is the one where Dad is completely buried in sand, and tiny four-year-old Kohen's sitting on his tummy with a bucket on his head, his eyes peeking under, twinkling in the scorching summer sun with a gap tooth smile. And now?

He can't even stand breathing the same air as my father, as though he loathes him. My father used to put effort into reaching out to him, but it always ended up with a pissing contest of some sort, broken glass, or with me getting in the middle of it. Or all three.

Hell would break loose over the smallest of things, like who'd forget to turn the lights off or who left the fridge open— basically, I was living with two oversized kids. The first time he nearly trudged out of the house with his bags, I had to drag him back in and beg him to stay. I didn't want him to go. But as soon as the arguments became too frequent and too chaotic, I wanted him out of the house, just for a peace of mind. And since Kohen had just turned twenty-one at the time, he was officially an adult and could do whatever he want. Not like his age stopped deprived him of that freedom before, but it just made sense to leave.

So now, it's just Dad and I. He occasionally still comes to see me, and even gives me a ride to school when he's got the time and is in a good mood, like today. Thank God, because I miss having him around.

"Whatever. We're going to be late if you don't stop blurring out," Kohen says, snapping me out of my thoughts.

Shaking my head, I walk up to my room to get ready.

I take a quick shower and slip into the casual outfit before sprucing my face up. My hair is fastened into a messy ponytail, wispy locks ending the length. A dab of concealer under each eye and a light coat of mascara brushed on washes out most evidence of my fatigue. The finishing touch is a swipe of a carmine lip tint, so I don't look like a face of white paste. I snag my bag and boots from the floor and head downstairs.

After grabbing my coffee from the counter top, I look at myself in the mirror for the last time, before Kohen starts honking for me in the driveway. My little Jiminy Cricket shrugs, giving me a "meh", telling me I am good to go.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

The school isn't far off from our place but definitely isn't close enough to walk to. Kohen stops at the front entrance, right in front of the foyer. I step out first while he finds a lot and enter the building.

The cool aircon welcomes me in, and when I see the main foyer I'm in awe. The interior is impeccable. A vast skylight above, letting the morning's rays flood the smooth, maple oak floor, lighting up the entire building. Broad, concrete spiral staircases that wind from level to level like Snakes 'N' Ladders and as I walk further in, I find a mini lounge area to the left accompanied by a mini cafe. Littered with a few students sleeping on it's plastic chairs are also their more studious counterparts, silently studying with earphones plugged in. It look more like a consulate than anything else. I see what looks like the main office straight ahead, where a large desk seems to sit behind it's glass doors. As I make my way to enquire about my first venue, a familiar sepia, reddish brown corpse shuffles out of my destination.

"Tommy?" I say loud enough so he can hear me, and he looks up as if he didn't realise he wasn't alone. He frowns, his grey eyes squinting.

"Yeah?"

"What are you doing here?" I'm surprised to see him. From what I've heard from Kohen, he only resurrects from bed by noon at a minimum. It's only seven-thirty.

"Some ass called in sick today, so my tutor asked if I could sub," he grumbles and scrubs his whole face furiously as if a wake up call. Even in the morning, I don't know how he manages to look so handsome. Before he and Kohen graduated, they were basically the two best-looking chaps in here, or so I heard. Straight A students, rugby stars and part of the Students Executive. While Kohen counted his blessings, Tommy on the other hand —

"Where's Ko? I ― ," then, his eyes freeze, growing big and wide. I follow his line of vision and spot luscious brown curls sauntering by, a little too slowly, her skirt a little too short for my eyes, legs looking like stilts, and he howls, " ― damn baby, where have those legs been hiding?"

The kids awake at the cafe snap their heads to us, and a mix of annoyance and embarrassment from the boys and girls respectively appear. I smile at them apologetically and catch the girl twisting back to look at us, a smirk readily stretching up her face before she turns and walks away. I make sure to wipe off the friendly expression and replace it with a glare when I face Tommy.

"Care to be any louder? It's only my first day here, I want to keep my chances of actually getting some friends, y'know. And also, you're a sub for a day. Be a little more professional, for crying out loud."

"No," his eyes peering over my shoulder, still trying to catch hold of Long Legs, "I think I'm going to marry her someday."

I roll my eyes but stifle a laugh at the fact he only answered my first question. He was without a doubt one of the biggest casanovas from Heyward and although he graduated five years ago, his effect on the female body hasn't changed one bit, so I haven't got a clue of how he's going to hold lessons without pissing the boys off and making the girls drool.

His father is the owner of the Wilson Corporations, "one of the biggest global law firms... and reported revenues hit $2.54 billion annually." Some wonder why he even bothered going to school, considering the fact that he is the heir to the highly acclaimed empire. But contrary to popular belief, despite his amorous escapades, Tommy's a lot less shallow than he appears to be. In fact, he's one of the most intelligent, generous and sweet people I know.

It was also because of Kohen that he attended school. With both of them having this strangely coincidental desire to bring justice to those victimised, they are both pursuing degrees in the legal discipline: Kohen aspiring to become a top notch defense attorney and Tommy, a prosectuor. Fate has a funny way of working its way because I swear, these two have been the best of friends since I could remember. My father even told me once that I was the adopted one, and Tommy was Kohen's sibling all this while.

"Hurry up, wanker!"

I find Kohen waiting at the main entrance with a huge grin on his face. The same group of students scold him with an ironically loud 'shush', but he simply returns it with a roll of his eyes. I glower at him, knowing the ass did it on purpose. Tommy strides in his direction.

"You have fun, okay? I'll see you later," Kohen says aloud, his head peeping in front of Tommy's body, and he shoots me a smile, a real genuine smile.

I nod and return the gesture, then turn on my heels just in time to miss Tommy's mortifying goodbye. Shaking my head, I decide to hunt for the room myself so I can explore the building a little. Kohen's settled the admin work for my transfer here, so I just have to look for my classes on my own.

Taking my timetable out my pocket, I discover my first lecture to be Higher Order Chemistry. That shouldn't too bad. I look to the cafe to see if anyone seems nice enough to give me directions, and pick a bespectacled girl with a bob haircut texting on her phone. She instructs me to go up the main stairway and down the right hallway, in which I'll find my venue to be through the first door. I thank her and follow her guide.

Arriving at the said hallway, I realise there are two doors directly across one another. I don't remember her telling me which one it is. Both rooms hold a sign overhead that states, 'LECTURE IN PROGRESS', with one of them lit green, the other switched off. Worth a shot to see if that's where I'm meant to be at. I push the door open, but it stops mid-way and —

"Shit!

I pull the door back a little and sidle out to face whoever it is.

"I'm sorry! You okay?" I ask worriedly, waiting to see how bad the damage is while his hand covers most of his face.

"I'm fine, it was my fault. I should reall ― God, you're strong." His voice is muffled by his hovering hand, but I hear his hearty chuckle as he moves to tip his head back, pinching the bridge of his nose with his eyes closed. I don't see any blood, but I can't guarantee there won't be an ugly bruise there tomorrow. Over his shoulder, a chain of students begin to pile up, ready to exit the room, idly chatting about as they go. I grab hold of his arm and gently drag him to the side so that we don't block the way.

I notice his skin is bathed in a light olive. His hand drops and his eyes meet mine. They're an amber with an oddly warm glow, fenced by thick, raven lashes and eyebrows, similar to his spiked up hair. The corner of his thin lips holds a metal ring, along with a smile and teeth straight to a T. He's really... pretty.

"I'm not quite sure I want to be friends if that's how you're going to greet me every time we meet."

I frown. "I'm really sorry."

"It's okay, really. I should've seen it coming," he chuckles, before he stares at me for a beat, then says, "I've never seen you around. You new?"

I nod, then mumble, a little embarrassed, "It's just ― well, I don't know how you're supposed to read this thing." I wave the pink slip of paper, the sound of air batting against it. He swipes in from my fingers, scanning my new timetable.

"Ah. Well, your lecture halls over there," he answers, jabbing his finger to the other room, still perusing the sheet. He's a senior.

Of course it is. After pondering for a second or two, I ask, "Do you think, you could, um, help me around?"

He looks up and dramatically begins stroking his chin, as if in deep thought. "What's in it for me? I mean, you owe me. It's the least you could do, right?"

I fight a smile, playing along, looking at the ceiling. After an exaggerated second, I offer what I'm most confident will win over his interest. "The best coffee in town. Puts Starbucks to shame."

One of his eyebrows lifts up. "Now, now, I love my Starbucks. That's a very bold claim. I'd hate to be disappointed."

"And I hate to disappoint," I reply just as smugly.

His mouth spreads into a wide grin, "It's a deal. I'm Leo, by the way. Leo Dehwar." He sticks a hand out. I shake it. He seems nice.

"I'm Rhea." Just as I reply, the school bell rings, signalling the start of the next class.

"Well, glad I've got a name to the face that tried to break my nose with a door," he teases, "but you should get going. God knows how annoying Smith gets when people are late for his lecture. Good luck."

I groan. Great, I'm already stuck with a pissy lecturer on the first day. After bidding him goodbye, I push the door open carefully this time and quickly look for a seat as students from the three different entrances stream in, exceptionally quiet, sharing a whisper or two with one another as they find the best spots to sit at, eyeing the podium every now and again. I look at where they're looking and there stands a portly man, around his forties, with what looks like a permanent frown plastered on his face, his arms crossed over his chest. Guess I wasn't the only one who got the news. That must be 'Smith'. Just my luck, huh.

"Well quickly settle down you buggers, we haven't got all day," he proclaims, going to take his seat and begins my first lecture of the day.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

The moment I'm home, I drop my bag on the bed and head to the bathroom. A hot shower always does the trick. After summer break, I forgot how tiring school could be.

I slowly peel the fabrics off my body and step into the shower. Turning the tap, I patiently wait for the scorching water.

Drip.. Drip...

The pitter patter of the drops echo off the walls of the tiles, reverberating my ears and mocking me.

You've got to be joking. I fumble with the knob a few times before giving up, deciding that my shower head is officially faulty. Swiping my towel from the rack, I wrap myself and trudge to the other shower in the guest room.

"Dad, the shower isn't working!" I yell bitterly, while my subconscious is doing the reverse, crying in her little corner and saying "Sleep, please." like it's a prayer.

I advance into the room, closing the door behind me. Turning around, beneath the soft, diffused glow of the gooseneck lamp, I find an unfamiliar body laying on the bed. My eyes then fall to what stands out the most— the bright flash of metal cuffs around his wrist, latched onto a column of the four poster bed.