(poisoned chalice)

WHEN SHE FINISHED her meal, Livia was the first to leave the table. No one batted an eye, though her father scorned at her lack of manners- ha, like she had any in the first place.

Sat on her bed, scrolling through her phone, she could have gone like that the whole night had there not been a quiet knock on the door.

She told them to come in.

In walked Victoire and Jason McHill, causing Livia to break in a rare grin as she threw her phone down besides her and got on her feet, "My two favourite McHills." Livia announced as Toire bounced onto her bed, squealing as she hugged Livia's black satin pillow. Jason raised a brow at his little sister but chose not to comment on it, instead flopping onto her ottoman in the corner of the room.

"Nothing has changed," he finally decided. "Livia is still an emo."

"And you're still a jerk," Livia snorted. "Toire, tell your brother he's a jerk."

"He's a dick too," Toire mumbled into the pillow. Livia stifled back a laugh, and Jason's spine stiffened.

'Take that back, you little piece of-"

"Alright, you two, Toire's still twelve, ye pottymouth. Jason, knock it off," Livia scolded as the younger girl scrambled beside her, sending her older brother a victorious smile.

"You're showing blatant favouritism, Wong," Jason shrugged, looking through a drawer. "You have Mortal Kombat 11? We can play."

"I'll have Skarlet consume your pathetic blood," Livia grinned wildly.

"Jason uses D'vorrah and Kollector," Victoire muttered. "A very accurate way to see his personality, lame and boring and overall bad." Why did Toire know about Mortal Kombat again? Maybe it was the years of watching Livia scream, "Kitana just chopped your head off!" or "Tanya will kobu jutsu your ass" as her older brothers were chased around the house, but Toire was very much a tomboy, though Livia thought it was a bit concerning a twelve-year-old had that much love for such a violent game.

Livia turned to Jason, her eyes blank. "I am very disappointed in you, McHill. This is not what I taught you, kiddo," she declared with feigned hopelessness as she landed her hand on the boy's shoulder. Jason scoffed, unimpressed and wrapped his hands around his knees, curling into a ball. Toire smirked at her brother, probably glad that she had someone on her side and slid onto her feet as well, landing on the fluffy carpet. Barefooted, her slippers long forgotten at the foot of her bed, Livia slid across the room to her desk, pulling out the chair and pushing it across the room.

"I feel like we have a lot to catch up," she grinned as she sat down, Toire mimicking her on the floor. "For starters, I realised that both of you no longer study at Greenlow. Why were you guys sent to Hades College for troubled teens?" She heard it during dinner,

"For starters," Victoire muttered, crossing her hands across her chest, "they should be calling the damn place Hades College for rich troubled teens. I have not met one average wealthy-person in the entire school. Everyone is filthy rich, spoilt and disgustingly obnoxious."

"And violent," Jason added. "Very violent, which is where we fit in. Well, Victoire anyways. I just pranked a teacher very badly, you know old Mr Martin? Geography class?"

"Who doesn't?" She replied with a shrug. "So you pranked the dude and got send to a school for wealthy delinquents?"

"Well, I feel like it was more of the solution for Jason's previous pranks, which involved setting off a dung bomb in the middle of Maths. I was sent off after kind of punching a bitchy- sorry- girl in the face," Victoire drawled, blinking. "Jason got sent halfway through last year, I got sent at the beginning of this school year. You know how mom and dad are."

And she did. The McHills were never particularly good parents. When James and Jack turned 13, they practically raised their siblings. Connor and Alicia were distant, constantly at work. She could tell they loved their kids, but parenting-wise, they completely failed. The McHills were half-raised by their friends' families, like Livia's, or the many nannies and workers around the McHill house. There was a small discussion on sending them to Scotland, where their grandparents owned a huge manor, but they eventually demolished the idea. Then Livia was glad, now, not so much.

Livia flashed a smile. "Any good friends?"

Both nodded. "A few," Jason replied. "I feel like most of them are a bit too extreme, so Victoire fits right in. I'm in the more pristine crowd. Like the other kids whose parents freaked out over the smallest shit- sorry, Toire- and got sent there."

"So are you both generally enjoying it there?"

Two nodding heads. Livia's heart was released from the weight of a heavy slab of stone she didn't even know was there to begin with, and she smiled.

"That's good, now how about we play that Mortal Kombat game?"

*

The occasional car driving by the house was a lullaby, urging her to sleep at this soulless hour, but Livia had a mission.

To write at least three chapters for her sequel.

Only her desk lamp was turned on, and she hadn't bothered turning on the illumination for the entire room. Pamela would be able to see the smallest slit of light from her side of the room, and she'd question it, being the little snitch she was. Fingers flying around her keyboard, occasionally stopping to take a sip of the tea she had prepared herself before "sleeping", Livia finally transferred the words that had been swirling around her head for days. Her eyes burned from the monitor's light, which suddenly felt searing and painful, but she continued on. Tomorrow morning, she wouldn't have the ideas anymore, lost in slumber and the never-ending lake of laziness.

Sometimes, Holly wondered why. Why no one accepted her, why she was seen as such a strange person, what was so different with her to begin with? She was the same as everyone else, the same hopeful heart yearning for a brighter future.

The electronic clock on her screen turned midnight, and Livia barely gave it a second glance. She didn't plan on sleeping tonight, she had enough of that the day before. The average person could still live after eleven days of rest, and hallucination only starts at around the third and forth. She'll be fine.

But maybe it's not her purpose on this world, maybe she was meant to be the outcast, to watch all her "friends" and peers cheer and laugh and her, the eternal wraith, trying to understand what they laughed about. What made them happy.

It's not her. At least not anymore.

Livia wrinkled her nose and deleted the entire passage. It felt too awkward, too forced. Sighing, she slammed her laptop shut and buried her head into her hands, before turning to face the window.

The moonlight shone on her face, casting shadows on the wall and the ground. The furniture of the room seemed like monsters showing their claws and baring their teeth, threatening to engulf her with one beastly howl. At the dead of night, Livia became one with the shadows of the witching hour, momentarily joining them as their brethren and sister as she explored the room in pitch dark, laying her hands on the walls that suddenly felt suffocating. When she blinked, she was an outsider again, and the shadows were no longer her allies but her bitter enemies. Flinching away from the darkness, Livia stepped back into where the moonlight was clearly seen, letting it wash through her hair like Artemis' sacred streams, shutting her eyes and wondering what it would felt like to be in the goddess' shoes, surrounded by a band of loyal followers who listened to her every command, and animals that bowed to her wishes.

She wondered what it would feel like to be one of the few birds sleeping in their frail nests, knowing that they could be blown down onto the ground and perhaps mauled by a nearby cat, or a rushing car, even the few people who still prowled the streets despite the eerie night and the demons that may lurk in the shadows, real or not.

When she stretched her fingers and sat back onto her desk, finally finishing what she had planned, her tired body heavy and every muscle in her body sore, it was past one. She still had no plans to sleep. Suddenly, a bright light flashed through the floor for a brief moment before immediately dimming, she pushed herself up from the desk and left her room in search for the source despite her body's complaints, she found herself outside of Pamela's room, the light still visible from the slant between the floor and the door. Pamela must have turned on the light while forgetting to close the door first, she realised as she gingerly pushed it open, poking her head in.

Inside, her sister sat on top of her bed, meditating cross-legged. Opening an eye, she flashed Livia an awkward, embarrassed smile.

"I couldn't sleep," she mouthed, patting the area beside her on her bed. "Did I wake you up?"

Livia mutely shook her head, taking Pamela's offer and nimbly sitting down on the bed. For a few moments, she watched Pamela as quiet as a mouse, until the sisters found it increasingly uncomfortable and awkward. With both girls promising to call it a night and to go to sleep, Livia tucked her sister in, planting a kiss on her forehead and turning off the searing light of the room before shutting the door behind her.

Instead of the promised sleeping, she crept her way downstairs, pouring herself a glass of milk, which she devoured quickly. She would eat a midnight snack, but she had no idea where Isabelle had stored her biscuits. Thus, she decided to go to bed empty-stomached, not even bothering to brush her teeth as she dragged herself back into her chambers and laid on the bed.

The conversation with James and Jack had a toll on her, even if she won't directly admit it. How carefree they seemed, acting as if nothing had happened until Livia mentioned it, she didn't know if she should be angry or impressed by their ability to move on. Maybe they just weren't that good friends with Melody before. Or maybe they were just so good at pretending, at hiding their pain in the past two years that their acts were so seamless and perfect.

Livia wanted to know how they do it, but as her eyesight started to blur and her mind descending into unconsciousness, she couldn't help but wish she had handled it in a different way. Maybe she could have handled Melody's death the same way as they had, maybe she'd still be friends with them-

No.

Melody was dead because of James' careless mistakes. She didn't care anymore. Melody was damned, cursed to never reach adulthood because of McHill. If the others won't face the truth head-on, then someone's got to do it. Even if it sets her soul on hellfire and she's damned for eternity for refusing to move on, so be it. She'll happily join the rank of the tortured souls of Hades if it meant delivering justice to Melody.

But she's too weak to do anything, her former friendships and relationships standing in her way between vengeance.

So she'll hide and cower and cry, and the others will laugh and cheer and lie. That was her life, that had always been her life, even if she was too blinded by materialistic riches and seamless perfections that broke with one poke, and maybe she'll take a page out of their books and lie to herself as well. Lie that her life before had been perfect and this, this was balance seeked by Nemesis because nothing could go too far on one side, and that someday, it'll be back in her favour again for at least a short while until it all tilted to the bad.

And when it happens next time, she won't be a fragile glass vase waiting to be shattered and broken over and over. She'll be wearing armour of steel, and a sword that could shatter through the most monstrous beasts' hide, a warrior, an angel, her guardian angel.

There was no one who would pick her flowers anymore, she'd have to do it herself.

She supposed that was what it all boiled down to.

--

Don't forget to vote and comment if you liked the chapter!