"I owe no one a single thing. The only one who can hurt me is me," -C.T

For the longest time in my life, I never knew what guilt was.

I liked to think that I still didn't. I mean, I had no need to feel guilty for anything. I had no need to feel anything as I lost the ability to care or feel eight years ago. I lost it all. 

I guessed that it was a perk that came with being rich and belonging to the wealthy. I guessed that I was turning into the shell of a person that Sterling wanted me to be, and I hated it because it was all his fault in the first place.

"Are you okay, sir?" Pierre piped up quietly from the front of the town car, looking at me as I coughed violently. I covered myself, not liking the way that he was looking at me. I went to retort and tell him to mind his business because concern was disgusting and pitiful and I was everything but, however, my lungs defied me and began forcing me to cough.

"I'm fine," I hissed, though I was sure it didn't sound threatening at all. Pierre frowned, going to say something that was probably along the lines of, 'please get better, master,' or some soothing and touching mess like that. I didn't do emotions. They scared me, if I was being real with myself, which I always was. I hated dealing with empaths and emotions and things like that. I found myself always catering to the logical side of me as it got the things I needed to be done.

"How did you get sick?" I narrowed my eyes, wondering why he felt the need to keep talking to me as he drove me home. It was probably the fact that he was plotting my demise while my defense was down. Nonetheless, I was still on guard even if I was practically delivering my soul to its death. I narrowed my eyes, gauging him for a few seconds before deciding to throw him a bone. He hadn't particularly annoyed me lately or messed up on his jobs, so I felt compelled to be less me.

"I don't know. I just woke up with a sore throat and then it lead to me coughing and sneezing," I explained, wondering if someone in the house gave me their sickness. It could've been one of the maids that stood really close to me yesterday. It could've been a ploy by the hands of Davina or Sterling to get me to bend to their will. Nah, who was I kidding?

It was probably from that poor boy. 

He looked as if he carried every single disease in the world, especially with those paint-covered pants he wore the other day when Tomas took Vivi out for a walk in the park. It was irritating because if I wanted to walk in the park or a big open grass area, I would just go out into my backyard. It was probably three times the size of the park he told us to meet him at. I was genuinely disturbed.

"God," I rubbed my face, just wanting to pass out already. I didn't get sick often but when I did, it was horrendous. "I hope you feel better," I scowled, fighting the urge to dare him to say something else so I could deduct his pay for annoyance, but he came to a stop sign, pointing out the window. I tilted my head, wondering what he was looking at, and I followed his finger to see a short, straggly woman who looked to be in her thirties, yet she had so many wrinkles, dark lips and dark spots all over her face. 

She was stumbling and I could see marks all over her arm near the interior of her elbow and I clenched my fists in anger and in disgust, knowing what that meant.

She was a fucking heroin addict. 

Pierre rolled down the window just a bit as she floundered her way over like a fish out of water and I frowned in immense agitation, squeezing the door handle a little too tight. "Do you," The woman coughed and wheezed, her lungs sounding as if she hadn't had water in days. "Do you have some money?" The way her voice sounded, the way she looked, my lip began to curl up in extreme vexation as my leg began bouncing up and down, anger coating my entire being. My hands were shaking and I lifted them up from the handle to squeeze them tight, shaking my head at myself.

I thought I was over it, but apparently eight years later, I was still haunted. 

"No, ma'am, I don't, sorry," Pierre rolled up the window as he began to drive down the street. I took a deep breath and slammed my head back against the seat, wishing all addicts could just burn in hell.

"Are you okay back there, Mr. Thorn?" Pierre called out to me and I growled lowly, reminding myself that I was no longer a child anymore. "Yes," My voice was cold and emotionless, much like the rest of me. However, there was a seething rage hidden beneath as memories that I tried so hard to suppress and ignore came bubbling up to the light. 

"I'm fine."

Pierre knew that something was up because I didn't yell at him for not getting home at the designated time.

When we returned to our estate, Vivi was in the main lobby of the house, waiting for me. "What's up?" I questioned, clearing my throat. I was feeling a lot better mentally, so I decided to ignore it and move on. "My father heard that you were sick from Sterling, so I came to see how you were. Did you call your personal doctor yet? Has he been by?" She asked all these questions as we ascended up the elevator. "Yea, he came by this morning. Said that it was a mild cold and he gave me some antibiotics," I didn't think that they were working, considering that I still felt atrocious.

When we entered my room on the third floor, I took off my Karl Lagerfeld sneakers and laid back on my back, just wanting years of sleep.

"This morning, I woke up due to my mother and her loud yelling on the phone this morning at her assistant because forty maids weren't enough and she needs a few more," I chuckled and Vivi shook her head. "It just isn't enough for all nine of our mansions," I looked at my nails, wondering if I needed to bring in my nail esthetician in for my weekly clean up just yet.

"We should go shopping in Paris tomorrow," I suggested randomly and Vivi nodded in reply. "Yes! I want to get some new Chanel perfume," She sat on my bed, patting my leg as I began to shiver because of how cold it was. "What do you think of Tomas thus far?" She questioned out of the blue and I shrugged. "If you like him, then go for it," Here I was, trying to be a good friend and not let my feelings make my decisions.

For now.

"It doesn't matter whether or not I like him. To be frank, I do and don't detest him at the same time," I explained and a smile came to her fair face. "If you like him, then you do what you want," I said with a roll to my eyes as my voice fell to a whisper. "But keep me uninvolved in your shenanigans with the lower class." I had one friend and that one friend was enough for me.

"Cheyenne, I'm scared." 

I sat up on my mass array of pillows, nodding to her. "That is to be expected. It seems you really like this guy, so I can't do anything about it." Such a shame her Tesla gave out on her in the part of the area we didn't do too well in. 

"No," She shook her head, looking away from me. "I meant that I'm scared of telling my parents about Tomas," She confessed and I sighed, wondering when this was going to come because I knew it was going to happen sooner or later. "I know you are. I'm scared for you. I truly don't know what you were thinking or what your little heart was thinking but," I shrugged, trying to offer as much as could.

It was funny because we both were twenty-four years old, fully grown and competent but yet, everything around us made it seem as if we were just sixteen. 

"Vivi, they don't even know what you do for a living!" I said the crucial piece. "If they don't know that you work at a public school and you haven't told them that, there's no way you can tell them about Tomas. Not a chance," I shook my head, fighting a sneeze. The moment was intense, the atmosphere squeezing down around us as it threatened to expose all of our secrets. "You can try telling them, but I would just be prepared for the consequences," I sighed, knowing that our families weren't those typical rich families. We were in a way, but so much more dangerous and controlling.

"What would you do, Cheyenne?" Her lips trembled as her eyes began to water. That was how I knew she was falling for this strange character. She never really asked for my input because she simply had the answers for everything herself. I took a deep breath and I grasped her hand. "I don't know because I'm not in the same situation as you. If my parents found out about my painting life, I'd be forced to give it up. That would be all," I grimaced at the thought, knowing that I would rather die than do that.

"But it's not just you. You have to think about your poor boyfriend and what Phillippe may do. Tomas has a lot to use if Phillippe decidedly loses his cool. You don't," I explained as best as I could and she nodded, understanding what I meant. "If you're really serious, that's a conversation you need to have with Tomas," I let go of her hand, falling back onto the pillows with a sigh.

"On another thought," I tried changing the subject so that she would stop looking so dejected with her curled up lips and sad eyes. "Why don't you and Tomas just go on a date without the rest of us?" I wheezed, wishing that I could end it all. "It would make my life less susceptible to the bad luck that the poor boy seems to bring," I rolled my eyes and she glared at me. "And it would do Tomas good since he wouldn't have to hear me talking to his...friend," I had a really good case there, she couldn't deny that fact. "The less truth he hears about his poor friend, the better the outcome for your relationship. Why don't you try working on you two first and then bring whatever his name is into the picture?"

I choked on my saliva when she shook her head no. She should've been jumping at the idea because it meant that Tomas would be a lot more inclined to continue dating her. "I still want us all to be friends," I screwed my nose up, almost gagging at the thought. Vivi stood up with a happy howl, promising eternal suffering for my soul. 

"So go on and cheer up! We're gonna hang out again when you get better!" She seemed so happy and I was a little annoyed because I didn't want to be apart of their thing they had going on. God, one would think that we were all in a polyamorous relationship with the way she kept trying to egg things that shouldn't be egged on. 

"Someone please feed me cyanide and end it all," I grumbled to myself as she walked out of my room, making way for my trembling maid, Tara. "Oh, hello," She says before skipping away and I stared at Tara, wondering what she wanted. "I didn't call for you," I whispered as she stepped in, carrying a tray with a bowl and a mug. "I-I know," From my bed, I could still see her quivering knees through the canopy. "B-but I heard that you were sick and I wanted to bring you some soup and tea so that you would get better," I didn't say anything, so she stepped forward, inching closer to me. 

"I didn't ask for it though," I said with no heat to my tone. I really tried, I did, but my throat was not complying with me. "I know, but it's a thank you for the other day," She stood near my bed now, a blush on her cheeks and I scowled. "I didn't do anything for you. I just wanted to you to not mess up the floor is all," I looked away from her and she chuckled slightly, placing the tray on the nightstand. "You're secretly kind, aren't you?" I almost vomited up my all of my organs when I registered what she said.

"I also brought you some water and pain medicine!" She cheerily murmured as she watched me nearly die on the bed. "Make sure you eat it. You'll definitely feel better tomorrow," She grinned and I wondered if she poisoned me. She seemed too happy, but the look on her face and the smile told me that she meant it as an act of generosity. "If you need me, yell for me," Tara started to make her exit and I noticed that her knees weren't shaking anymore. "Hmph," I growled lowly to myself.

Whether or not I ate the soup was my own business.