"There's no point in talking about feelings. I have none that concern anyone else," -C.T

I felt a lot better once I took the medicine that Tara brought me. I felt a lot better and for the first time in a really long time, I was okay. 

But that feeling of relaxation and having a peaceful sense of mind instantly went away the moment I closed my eyes for the night. I knew it was coming—it always did. There was nothing different about what happened after it came because I always woke up the same way: screaming and scared out of my mind.

"You're just a little bastard," I struggled to breathe as a rough and angry voice boomed at me, the thick and firm hand wrapped around my throat, threatening to crush my windpipe. "What can you do?" I could only hear the sounds of my gasping and my hands scratching at the arm extending from my throat as I fought to breathe. It hurt—everything hurt. Tears were streaming down my cheeks, hitting the floor with an echo, reminding me of what I lost.

I tried to scream as my legs dangled in the air, my back pressed against the wall, an imprint that would remain forever, but not a single sound came out. It was as if I was mute and I could only stare in horror as my skin began to turn blue, the sound of my mother screaming being the last thing I could ever hear. 

I tried my hardest to move my legs, but I was frozen and with every single breath being sucked out of my body as I looked into those familiar brown eyes, ones filled with so much rage and promises of death as his grip got tighter and tighter. "Sterling!" I heard someone yell, but my eyes were slowly rolling to the back of my head and my hands were falling off his arm, a sign that I was welcoming his behavior. 

All because of her.

I woke up in my bed, screaming as I rolled around in the sheets, seeing nothing but those cold brown eyes and darkness. I started coughing, clenching my throat as panic began to surge through my body, my eyes darting around for help. I clawed uselessly at my neck, feeling like I was dying as the door to my room slammed open. "Hey, hey, Cheyenne!" My head brought into a chest as a hand began to rub my back.

"You're okay," The voice, whose I recognized as Tara's, whispered into my ear as I bit my lip, not wanting to expose myself or cry. "You're okay, Cheyenne," I didn't know why I wasn't on edge. It was probably because of the fact that I was only ever caught off guard when I was sleeping. Of course, I didn't have nightmares during the day, so I was always alert and ready.

I just didn't think that those memories would creep their way back on it on their wobbly legs, promises of grief, pain, and fear leaving their wrinkled lips. They burned their way into my mind like cigarettes searing their way into the skin, and it was evident that I was never going to be able to forget that night. 

The night that changed everything.

"It's okay. There's no need to feel scared," Tara put her chin on my head and I narrowed my eyes, unsure of what to do. "I'm here with you," I couldn't remember the last time someone said those words to me. I couldn't remember the last time someone willingly hugged me like this, and I found that I wasn't repulsed. 

With that being said, I still kept my mouth shut and my nonexistent feelings to myself.

"Go to sleep, Cheyenne," Tara said after she held me for a few more minutes. "You need it," I didn't want to go to sleep because I didn't want that nightmare to return, but my eyes were not winning this fight. They were drooping, sliding close if I so dared took a breath. "You are okay," That was the last thing that resonated in my brain before my head fell against the pillow for the final time that night.

And I slept.

The next morning, I woke up to see that Tara kneeled on the floor, her head on the side of my bed as she snored softly. I narrowed my eyes, wondering what the hell she was doing. "Tara," I harshly called out and her eyes fluttered open, resting with ease as they landed on me. "Why?" I pointed to her as I rubbed my eyes awake. "O-oh," She stood up slowly, cracking her bones. "I just wanted to make sure that you were okay," She said quietly, twiddling with her fingers as I took in her untidy appearance.

I made a face, heaving a very deep sigh. This was highly unusual and she looked extremely terrified. "Look," I stood up slowly, not feeling the dryness in my throat anymore. I guessed that the tea she gave me was very effective in his aid as I felt better and I could willingly tolerate people. I gave her a look, wondering how to go about this. She held me in her arms and I did nothing about it, which gave me chills at the thought. What the hell was I thinking, letting someone I barely know touch me? The last time someone ever touched me like that, I was graduating from high school. 

"You should've slept in the chair."

Tara's eyes widened with a squeak as she looked up at me. What, was I that scary? Hmm. "I'm not going to be responsible for you if you somehow break your neck from sleeping on it too long," I scowled as a stupid smile merged her face. I pointed over to a door beside my bathroom. "Take those stairs down and maybe you can avoid the scorn of my mother," I motioned for her to leave as she began to scurry out of the room, all cheery and happy.

Disgusting.

I removed all thoughts and memories from last night because they were unneeded and useless to me. I didn't need to be reminded that it happened and I would just prefer to not vomit in my own mouth. With a grumble of irritation, I used the regular door to go across the hall to my third closet to figure out what to wear. Vivi wanted us to go to one of Tomas's favorite eateries in the town of Palo Alto. I was equal parts pleased yet concerned because while we were meeting near fine cuisine and beautiful scenery, it also meant that we had a chance of encountering someone who knew us.

Well, let us hope not.

"It's good to hear from you, Stefan," I heard Davina's shrill voice from one of the open rooms on the floor. I stopped in my tracks as her loud laugh came echoing through. She never laughed like that with anyone, not even Sterling.

Wait, Stefan as in Stefan Alderidge?

Her hushed murmurs and sighs became more evident as she continued talking on the phone, the feeling in my gut telling me what I already know. 

"Hm," She whispered, the sound of her licking her lips filling the silence. "When do you think we can meet again?" She chuckled sultry as she twisted her hair around her finger and I almost gagged, wondering what she was talking about and why. I had never heard that voice of hers sound like that except for when I was a child, not knowing why she and Sterling used to leave me in the living room to go upstairs.

But she wasn't talking to Sterling.

"Interesting," I muttered to myself as I decided to head back into my room, opting to wear something that was in my walk-in closet. I didn't need her knowing that I heard her, but it would've been useful as material to hold against her. In the case that she tried something because you know, with her, you always had to be alert.

Sometimes I wondered if she was Satan himself. Well, no one could be Satan except for Sterling because he was the icing and the cake on the cake itself. He was the one you had to watch for because he wasn't afraid to use anything and everything he could to get you on board.

I clenched my hands and I took a deep breath, telling myself that it was a long time ago and that I wasn't that scared Cheyenne Thorn anymore. 

I was me, but better.

-o0o-

All I knew was that Vivienne Baudelaire was a dead woman as soon as my eyes landed on her. 

I was going to brutally slaughter her when she walked through those doors belonging to the eatery that we were in. She called me while Pierre was driving me to assemble with the two individuals to tell me that she was going to be a little late. The PTA meeting went over time and that she would take a few minutes.

Why, I ought to—

"We should hang out places that you and Vivi like," The ever-so-dutiful boyfriend offered and I rolled my eyes, knowing that he would have a heart attack if I even let him look at my private jet. Secondly, he would have to have money to get where we were going. 

"Cheyenne," Tomas got my attention and I cut my eyes at him, wondering when he felt that he could be so casual with me. "How old are you?" He asked and I sighed. "I'm twenty-four," He and the poor individual shared a snort. "Wow, you and Vivi are both young," Tomas chuckled with a shake of his head and while a tiny part of me wanted to know exactly how old they were, the rest of me didn't give a damn.

"Interesting," I muttered dryly, wishing that Vivi would hurry her ass up. Her cars went up to at least 230 miles per hour, so I hoped that she was gassing it down the highway because the more and more I sat here, the more germs that were expelled in the air.

But Tomas just wasn't going to let me enjoy my silence.

"How is the rich life, Cheyenne?" He questioned, staring at me. "I mean, not the standard bullshit answer that you give anyone," Joaquin leaned in, probably to see if I would expose any deep secrets about my money safe. "But how it really is," I chuckled with a raise of my brow as I sat up, folding my arms.

He really expected me to tell him about my honest feelings, which I had none. Even if I did, what made him think that I would tell him of all people? I didn't trust him. I didn't trust anyone. "Hmph," I stared at him with my defenses up. "Sometimes it gets a little lonely at the top," I sarcastically replied with a roll of my eyes. Was it a lie? Was it a partial truth? He would never know the answer to that. "But who wouldn't want the rich life?" The corners of my mouth quirked up, but even I knew that what I was saying was pure shit. 

Well, at least I had millions. 

Tomas's eyes were calculating as if they were trying to study me intensely and I looked back at him, knowing that he would never be able to figure me out. It was no use in trying to understand me because no one ever would.

I would have to let them.

"Hm, so someone like you who's rich and wealthy and has everything they could ever want," The poor boy clicked his tongue, frowning as he shook his head at me. I turned my amber-eyed gaze to him, wanting to know what he had to say. His gaze trailed my face as we ignored everyone else around us, staring at each other. "I'm sure like the rest of you pompous bastards, you like being who you are. You like having all this money to make others feel bad about not being on your level," He scoffed and I took no offense to his words, not even focusing on what he said. I had too much on my mind to be worried about the ramblings of some poor individual who couldn't tell what knockoffs were.

I smirked at him while looking at my newest acquisition, my 17,500 French set Halo diamond band ring that sat on my finger from Ritani, shrugging. All I heard was pure jealousy dripping from his lips like the drool that oozed from a dog's mouth when they saw food.

"Well, what's not to like?"