I hated being rushed. I think I hated being rushed more than the thought of elephants stampeding through my bedroom wall and crushing me to death in my sleep. I hated being rushed more than the thought of burning my tongue on a really hot slice of pizza, where the cheese just looked so yummy and gooey that you couldn't help biting in. I hated being rushed more than looking in my wallet and noticing that I didn't have enough money to buy that really amazing looking doughnut behind the counter, the one dripping with maple frosting and little crunchy pieces. 

I hated being rushed.

Rushing water, the rushing of air through your hair as you hung your head out the window, the rushing of thoughts through your head as your fingers scramble to write it all down... Now, that kind of rushing, I didn't mind.

The kind of rushing that involved the incessant tapping of heels in anticipation of your arrival to the door, so that you could once again rush. Rush off into the unknown. Rush into an impending fight, rush into a frenzy... You could keep it all where I was concerned.

I, Talia Waverly Grey, am a patient person.

Shit. It didn't work...

Lizbeth rushed me out of the door and to the spot where her shiny silver car was parked. For a brief second, I looked around, trying to catch a glimpse of that sleek beauty that purred when he placed his hands on the ignition, but I didn't see it. It wasn't where he had parked last night after our drive. The drive last night after that kiss. That single earth-shattering moment, when my heart briefly stopped in my chest and I felt like he was breathing for both of us.

There was a feeling in my chest that was unfamiliar and that paired with the nervous acrobats currently practicing their tumbles in my stomach, it wasn't a pleasant feeling. 

"You look like you're in love." My eyes shot over at Lizbeth and gulped. 

I wasn't in love... Was I? I didn't think that I had ever really been in love with someone, so I wasn't sure what kinds of things you felt when it happened. Even though it was a feeling that I was unfamiliar with, I was positive that the tumbles of my stomach had more to do with the fact that in no time, I would be placing my feet on the ground that my "father" owned. 

The thought of that "word" in my mind made me do a silent gagging face.

Ok, I lied. I was kind of in love, with Seth, but he also really liked random one-night stands and that kind of stuff scared the mascara right off my eyelashes.

That feeling aside, the feeling in my chest was new and unfamiliar, but I didn't believe it was love. Maybe extreme fascination paired with a hint of longing... Crap... Nope, I refused to admit that maybe somewhere deep down, I was falling a little bit for Damian Reever, of all people. 

"That's silly. First off, I don't know anyone here. Secondly, no one lives up to my standards."

"Usually when you have to list off reasons why you aren't something, it means you are, Talia." Lizbeth drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, the faint sounds of the stereo in the background. I think it was a Demi Lovato song, but truth was, that my knowledge of what Lizbeth considered popular music, lacked in some departments. 

"I might have a crush on someone if we are being honest, but I don't even know his name. He's just another cute boy in a crowd and that's all he's ever going to be in my eyes. I don't plan on sticking around after graduation, so why get invested?"  Lies, all lies. Well except maybe the sticking around part.

"That's a shame, Talia."

I looked over at her, the heater was blowing some of the chunks of her now straight strawberry blonde hair out of her face. 

"Why is that a shame? And before you start, please don't give me a lecture on the whole love is amazing, oooooo oooooo oooo crap that movies and young adult novels feed you. Love is pain when it's real love and pain sucks." I did my best impression of a swooning girl, my hand placed on my forehead dramatically.

"It's a shame because..." her voice trailed off for a second before she continued, "Well, it sucks because I really like having you as a sister. I know you're going to give me this whole, but we aren't sisters crap that you've been shoving down my throat for a week, paired with your rather specific brand of moodiness, but the truth is that you remind me of my brother and I like having you around."

"Your brother?"

"Yeah, my brother Wilder. He was, um. He was just like you, moodiness and all."

"Thanks, I think. Am I going to meet Wilder today? I know Killian said Miles would be at the house, but I don't remember him saying anything about a Wilder being there."

Her expression immediately turned to a sullener one and I could see her attempting to steady her breaths, while she gripped the steering wheel with her perfect pink and gold painted fingers.

"Wilder died about three years ago, when my mom died."

I looked over at her and could see the tears welling up in her big eyes. I immediately guided the steering wheel over to the right, so that we came to a stop on the embankment which separated the road from the forest.

"I'm sorry Lizbeth, I didn't know. I knew your mom had died, but Killian never said anything about a brother."

She looked over at me, tears streaming down her face as she tried to speak, "How much did my dad tell you?"

"Not much really, just that it was an accident." I rubbed her back with my one hand and awkwardly fidgeted with the hem of my shirt with the other. I wasn't good with tears and girls crying around me only made me uncomfortable. I was never good at managing or expressing my own feelings, let alone helping others with theirs. I was a paralyzed hamster where emotions were concerned.

"My mom, Elizabetha, and my brother, Wilder, were headed to New York on a business trip when their car unexpectedly veered off the road, and flipped into a ditch, killing everyone inside. The police ruled it an accident due to some unsavory road conditions, but we don't believe it was an accident. There was no evidence of road issues and the car had too much damage."

Her revelation shocked me. Part of me was desperate to ask further questions, but I didn't know if I was sure that I wanted to know the answers. "You think the Reevers had a hand in it?"

"I most certainly think that at least Julian Reever had a hand in it. He's toxic and his wife, Maria, is worse. Julian is diehard tradition and heritage, he lives and breathes by his family crest. Every single decision in his life is made to appease his view of what his lineage would expect."

I tried to play stupid and not let on that I had the faintest hint of anything Reever related, but as she spoke, I thought back to the things that Damian told me about his family's history and the mythology that they still clung tightly to. I thought back to last night and the further revelations by Damian of his desire to finally be seen as an individual from his family and their grip.

"What does Julian believe?"

"Talia, you'd think I was crazy if I told you. Oh well, sooner or later you'll find out and maybe by knowing you can keep yourself safe. Julian Reever believes that he's the rightful heir to the town of Meeds Hollow. He's a firm believer in his lineage and the Nine Noble Virtues of his clan. Because of some stupid blood war, centuries ago in which his clan's blood was spilled by my family, he has sworn lifelong vengeance against us. There's nothing that can be done on either side to change his mind. His wife, Maria, was a professor of mythology when he met her and she's as consumed with that history as he is. He looks for the signs that point to the validity of myths."

"Signs? What kinds of signs?"

"Stupid shit, like if the moon happens to turn a tad red, even though it can be explained by science, he believes it relates to his quest for retribution. Even when those awful boys were born, he saw it as a sign."

"Why were the boys considered a sign?" I looked at her with curious eyes, begging that what she would say to me wouldn't change how I felt about them.

"The boys were the first twins born in the history of their lineage. An ancient seer once told King Reever, that two boys born of the same womb, but different sacks, during the Time of the Raven, would change the family line forever. Nothing more is known about how they will change it, but Julian Reever makes damn sure that his beloved twins are exactly where he wants them and doing exactly what he wants. He wants them vicious like he is and I know you have interacted with Satan himself, so you know that he's a monster. Paxton, on the other hand, is quiet and extremely devious. Where Damian lacks, Paxton makes up the slack and vice versa. They aren't to be messed with."

I couldn't believe I was hearing the things she was saying. How could one person be so wrapped up in mythology that they failed to see the world around them? I loved history and myths, but I also had common sense to know that they weren't true by any means. I couldn't imagine the hate that would drive someone to want to see people dead. How could a story have such a firm grip on someone's reality? How could stories cause obsessions?

"What does our family believe, Lizbeth?" She sat up straight and relaxed her hands, placing them in her lap when she spoke.

"My father wants revenge for the deaths of those he loves, but at the same time, he wants the fighting to end. My father is big on tradition and folklore as well, but not to the point where he would outwardly murder people to achieve it. At least, I think..."

"Are you saying that Killian would kill Julian's family for revenge?" The fact that she would hint at it shocked me. Lizbeth Wyndham absolutely loved her father; you could see it in her eyes when she spoke of him. There was no doubt that her world revolved around her family and she desired to live up to their expectations. 

Initially, I believed that she was just another horrible person from a horrible family that had cast my mom out into the cold, making her hate herself enough that she ran away from everything she ever knew or loved. But, maybe a part of me was wrong for feeling that. Maybe, there was more to the story than I even knew.

"I'm saying that my father loved my mother and brother with all his heart and they were killed suspiciously. I am also saying that there were other factors that could drive him to do something, your mother was one of those."

"My mother? How could my mother be a factor? She had an affair with a married man and was ashamed, so she fled the town and made a life somewhere else. There is no factoring her into any equation and how dare you bring her up!" I found myself raising my voice in the small confines of the car. Had my voice been any louder I would have shattered every window in our proximity with my blood curdling shrieks.

"Calm down, Talia! I'm not trying to offend you, there are just some things that in time you will come to see that stuff isn't always the way you believe it to be painted. Ask my father when the time is right, if you really want to know. I... I shouldn't have said anything..." She hung her head and tried to compose herself. She smoothed down the front of her peach colored top, trying to smooth out the wrinkles that had formed.

"I'm sorry that I yelled. Tell me about Wilder, why was he like me?"

She looked over at me and a slight smile formed on her face. "Wilder was amazing. He was three years older than me and everyone loved him. He had this amazing smile that lit up the room when he walked in. When I was younger, I would sneak downstairs when he played the piano and just sit on the floor with my head resting on my knees and listen to him play. His fingers would just glide over the keys, while his eyes would be shut, his head leaning back slightly, engulfed in the moment, in the music. Your eyes light up when you talk about music, like his did."

She paused for a second, lost in thought, "He had this moody side to him though, like his inner creativity was constantly in battle with his rational side. He was also never afraid to speak his mind, just like you. You would have really liked him."

"Well, if he was anything like me, then I'm sure I would have." She laughed out loud at my statement and then composed herself before putting the car back in gear. We headed the rest of the way to the house in silence. I looked out the window at the passing trees, just milling over everything she had told me. Even though she painted a very black picture of the Reever boys, my heart just wanted to see Damian.

.....................

"It's about time. You girls should have been here thirty minutes ago." Killian tapped his watch with a stern look on his face.

"Sorry daddy, it was actually my fault. I got held up in the library." Lizbeth gave her dad a big hug and then walked in through the doors of the massive house.

"Well then, I guess it's ok." His expression changed from anger to understanding and for a moment, I gave myself a mental reminder to use that in the future if needed. Lizbeth was the way to Killian's heart and if it meant getting him off my back, I would use it to my advantage.

"Hello, you must be Talia." A young man in his mid-twenties stood in the doorway. He had the same strawberry blonde hair as Lizbeth, except it was wavy and, in the wind, a small curl would ever so often stray and fall into his face. He had these really amazingly blue eyes that while they seemed sexy, there was something really fierce about them. His short reddish-blonde beard and mustache were neatly trimmed and the facial hair made him appear older than he probably was. He leaned against the column outside of the house, his hands rested across his chest.

He stepped forward to offer me his hand and when I shook it, the grip was very firm and commanding. It was one of those handshakes that didn't come easily. One that was perfected so that the person on the other side knew that it meant business. I had shaken a lot of hands booking gigs and meeting new people and you could distinguish a great handshake from a limp fish one. 

"You must be Miles." 

He was taller than me, but at my measly five feet, three inches, most people were. He had a nice smile, but at the same time, you could tell that he didn't smile often. Something told me he had a temper just like Killian and that he was pretty effective and forceful when he wanted to be.

We walked into the foyer of the house and instantly you could smell the money that dripped from each and every piece of furniture and picture that lined the wall. The walls were a cream color and the trim had a hint of gold flecks in the paint. The house, which was more of a grand estate, screamed that either a woman decorated it or someone was hired. Everything was pristine and immaculately kept, which told me that Killian Wyndham paid people to do his little odds and ends. There was no way this man got his hands dirty when it came to keeping up a home.

"Lizbeth tells me that you're getting along and that your classes are going well." Killian sat down on the sofa in front of me and crossed his legs, placing his arm out around the back of it.

"Yeah, everything is going well." I had to admit that being in this house made me nervous. I didn't know what to expect from Killian, let alone wanting to be in the same house where I had been conceived and then later pushed out while in utero, out into the cold. The mere thought of it made my stomach bile rise slowly into my throat, like an overfilled toilet waiting to spill its contents out over the rim and onto the floor.

I couldn't take the feeling any longer, so I found myself blurting out, "So why did you want me to come by?" I saw Killian's demeanor shift slightly from easy going to more irritated.

"I wanted to see my daughter, is that a shock?" He set his massive hands in his lap, his eyes locking on me. For a moment, I wasn't sure if it was rage that I saw in them or just sheer annoyance.

I hated the man in front of me. I hated everything that he put my mother through. I hated that I was sitting in his home, with a family that I had never known, trying to be civil when all I wanted to do was scream like a banshee in his face, beating on his massive chest with every single shred of rage that I had. Because of Killian Wyndham, my mom had a broken heart, that eventually lead to a cold dead one. 

I wasn't a fool, I knew how medicine worked and how the body functioned, but in my heart, I knew for a fact that my mother loved Killian Wyndham until the day her heart burst in her chest, as she tried to fix her always impeccable short red locks in the mirror. My mother died of weak heart, caused by the damage that Killian Wyndham inflicted upon it, eighteen years ago. Her heart never recovered from the damage that his hateful words caused, or the feelings that lingered in her core. Feelings that reminded her of the way his hands felt on her face, or the look in his eyes when her name escaped his lips. All my mother had to remind her of the damage of her first love, was a broken heart, a solitary picture hidden in her bedside table, and a child with his eyes. 

I knew this because I saw the longing and hurt in her eyes, each and every single time I asked her about my daddy; questions she always refused to answer.

I bit back the stream of words that were begging and pleading for me to grant their escape. I bit back the desire to rip his face off like a hungry wolf. I bit back the feelings of wanting to be a part of this family and finally for once be loved and accepted by them. I choked it all back and instead I put on my signature fake smile, my signature look at me, see I don't care face. My signature none of this is bothering me expression. 

"It's nice to see you as well." The vomit, oh God, it was rising in my throat. It was bile mixed with rage, churned by the stick of years of disappointment. "I'd really love to stay all day, but Mrs. Collins gave us this brutal first week assignment that's due tomorrow and I've really been trying to finish it. I should be in the library right now making sure it's up to her standards." 

I lied, I had finished that project late last night after Damian dropped me off. It was absolutely perfect and worthy of even the standards of an Ivy League University. I never did stuff half-assed and I tried not to leave things until the last minute before they were due.

"Well, then you should get going. It's nice to see that you're so concerned with your expensive education. It's refreshing when a child is determined and focused." I knew that was a slight jab at Lizbeth, and when I turned to look at her, I was relieved that she was engaged in a round of texting, not paying much attention to the conversation at hand.

"Before you go though, Lizbeth asked me to do you a favor." Lizbeth's eyes darted up at her father and you could see the happiness in them, that her request had been fulfilled. "It's in my office Lizbeth, please go fetch it for me."

She jumped off the couch and ran as well as she could in her high heels across the marble floors. You could see her skid across the ground and had she been wearing just a shirt and socks, you would have thought she was auditioning for the remake of Risky Business.

She emerged minutes later with something in her hands. My eyes lit up when I realized what I was looking at. When she set it down in front of my feet, I almost peed myself with excitement. When I set it down on its back, my fingers unzipped the zipper of the case. Just the sound the zipper made when it ran over every tooth, caused my heart to beat a little faster and harder.

When the top flipped off, there it was in front of me like the Holy Grail that had eluded me on my quest for centuries. It was raven black in color and my fingers just slid over the smoothness of its front. It was the most beautiful acoustic guitar that I had laid my eyes on. 

A Taylor 214ce deluxe grand auditorium, acoustic guitar with electric capabilities. It had an ES2 expression system and a full-gloss finish. The front wood was Sitka Spruce and the back looked to be layered Indian Rosewood. It smelled like Heaven when I bent my head near it; it was like smelling your child for the first time after their birth. 

I couldn't have in a million years imagined that I would be holding a Taylor guitar. I couldn't even afford to rent a Taylor, let alone buy one. These things were expensive and a lot of the times you had to custom order them. The mere price tag of $1,700.00, was a deterrent in my decision to buy an Taylor acoustic my first time around. 

There had been no way that I could have saved that much and we weren't drowning in money. My mom had a job as a librarian at the local school and while it paid well, we barely squeaked by most months. On the rare occasion when she had some extra cash, it was usually spent buying a night out at dinner or fabric for her fashion creations she made for me in her spare time. Once in a while. I would find a $20.00 bill tucked into a pocket of my jeans and she would just smile in my direction.

My first acoustic was beautiful, but it would have never held a candle to the beauty in my hands right now. I had bought it at a pawn shop for $75.00. The previous owner had taken great care of it and branded into the side was the initials LFK. I used to daydream about who LFK was and whether it was the owner of the guitar or the woman whose name graced the songs that he sung, while standing under her bedroom window.

When my mom had died, I pawned it back to the shop, luckily getting $200.00 and a sympathetic look when I explained why I needed to unload it. There were a lot of memories that were made on that guitar and a lot of songs that were strummed. There were a lot of stolen moments with Seth, when we sat outside of his house on the porch and my fingers did their fancy footwork on the strings, while he looked into my eyes. That guitar was a piece of me that I left behind in Minnesota, along with everything else that was my identity.

"Thank you... Really. Oh my God, just thank you." I found my arms wrapping around Lizbeth and for the first time my heart was briefly happy that she was my sister. "Why?"

She laughed at my question, "You're my sister, Talia. I saw the picture of you on your desk with an acoustic guitar, but never saw it in the room. I figured there was a good reason you didn't have one. Plus, I'd like you to feel like you could play whenever you wanted without worrying about the dorm rules. I guess it's my version of a welcome home present."

I couldn't wait to play it. I couldn't wait to tune it and place my fingers on its strings. I couldn't wait for that first moment when I would steal myself away from everyone and engage in that first touch. The first touch had to be private or it lost all meaning to building a relationship with my new guitar. It would be the moment where I would name it like it was my child. The moment when the world would cease to exist and I would get lost.

I couldn't wait for that perfect moment...

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A/N: Hey!

Hope you liked the chapter, please vote and comment!

So we see a new side to Lizbeth finally. Is there something more to her than expected or is it all an act?

So, I know several people aren't happy that things are developing between Talia and Damian, my roommate is one of them (he's total Team Seth) lol. But..... Underneath everything, this is a love story and she will fall in love.... with someone, who that is, even I don't know at this point.

So cast your vote:

Team Talia+Damian

Team Talia+Paxton

Team Talia+Seth

Can't wait to hear what you guys think!!

Amina <3