"Sometimes a blast from the past is needed to make us rethink everything," -C.T

Day has passed into a dreadful night without a word from Vivi.

I assumed that she was greatly angry with me for the events at the restaurant yesterday. Even if I was wrong for what I said, I didn't think that it was right for Joaquin to get let off of the hook. Even I had started it long ago, he was still in no position to be seen as the good one.

Especially when he called me the one person I never wanted to be. 

I admitted that my comment about his wife was probably too much and offensive, but the least that Vivi could've done was come to my defense when he stated that I was exactly like Sterling. If Tomas did, why couldn't she? As much as his words hurt me, it stung a lot more when she had nothing to offer but silence.

"Ugh," I covered my eyes as I sat up on the bed in my studio. I was smart enough to convert half of this space into an apartment so whenever I needed to be alone, I could. "This could've gone a lot worse," I told myself, trying to be optimistic in this situation. It was super funny because I wasn't optimistic about anything. Rather, I was a realist. I just knew that it was highly unusual for Viivi to get mad at me, much less over a dude. 

But instead of dwelling over it and trying to fix what I couldn't, I just put away those useless feelings and got on with my day. There was nothing that I could do, considering that I was not the type of individual to make amends. What was lost was just lost.

"It's 2:30 already?" I groaned to myself as I throw on a Vuitton hoodie, realizing that I must have slept in too long. I picked up my phone to see that I had five missed calls from mother Satan herself, and two from Vivi. I stared at the phone, contemplating on whether or not I should return any calls.

"No," I told myself as I let my phone fall on the pillow, my feet making their way to where my canvas sat. Everyone just needed time to think about whatever it was they wanted to think about. I, for one, did not want to be in an environment full of chaos and anger because I didn't fare too well in those types of areas.

I didn't talk about feelings nor did I account for blame. It was what it was and let it be done. I picked up a paintbrush and I began to paint. I could feel the swarm of emotions leaving my body and staining the white paper with its touch, a sigh of relief coating me.

"Chez!" I heard a yell as the door to my studio opened suddenly. In walked in one furious Vivienne Baudelaire, her Coach purse falling on the chair as she closed the door. "Yes?" I replied, putting my brush down so that I could face her. "Why didn't you answer my call?" She asked as she stalked towards me, stopping just a few feet away.

I could sense the hostility in the air, singeing and crackling like electricity between us. "I wanted to give you time to think," She nodded, grateful for the answer and I swallowed the knot in my throat, this circumstance very new to us. "If it's okay, I'd like to speak first since I'm sure you have a lot to say," She motioned for me to go on and I did, knowing that it would be better.

"I don't know why you're so upset, to this point, when you are the one who pushed me into this situation. I told you that I didn't want to be around people like that, but you wanted me there for moral support," I folded my arms, counting to ten so that I didn't rage on her. "Even if what I said was wrong, you should've known that something like this would happen, Vivienne," She clicked her tongue, heaving a sigh. 

The gears in her head were turning just like they were at the restaurant yesterday. 

"You know the type of person I am. You know the things that I say. You know that I have no experience with people like Tomas and Joaquin. You cannot expect me to be kind when I have never been so kind to someone else before," With that final retort, I moved onto the next subject, making sure I had said it all. "Quite frankly, I find it astounding that you are changing yourself in order for someone to like you," I raised a brow, knowing she didn't think that I would call her out on her behavior. She was nice, but not that nice. "If you really cared for Tomas, then you should know that what I say in his presence is nothing compared to what he'll have to deal with if he manages to get that far."

Vivi finally landed her eyes on me, those blue orbs filled with an emotion I knew too well: rage. 

"I know that I am a mean person. I know that I like being rich, who doesn't? I say what I want and when I want. If the person can't handle it, then it's a tell that I shouldn't be around them. Moreover, you're the one who wants to be their friend, not me," I pointed to myself, the thought dawning on me as I knew where this conversation was heading.

"I don't know and I don't care, Cheyenne," She rubbed her face, grumbling to herself. "I just really like Tomas and the fact that I don't even think that you feel remorse about what you said to his best friend puts everything into perspective," She looked at me, her eyes red and rimmed as if she had been crying all night. 

"I just don't know if I can be friends with you anymore. Your attitude is not what it used to be. I mean," She chuckled but there was no humor in it. I couldn't tell if my heart was cracking or not, but it didn't matter. It never did. "All I asked was for you to just be nice for a little bit, you know? It's obvious that they don't come from our world, but you didn't have to give them the shit that you did!" She screeched as me and I raised a brow, keeping my poker face in check. 

Just nod and move on. We already knew that something like this would happen, why not? When you were someone like me, relationships and friendships were evident, but their end was inevitable. 

"Fine," I shrugged, shaking my head. There was no need to dwell on anything. "It's clear that you intend to see my side of things, and it's clear that you're just going to ignore the way that Joaquin was making comments to me as well," Vivi's cheeks reddened as she narrowed her eyes. I never thought that in our twenty years of friendship, we'd see this point. 

And as usual, it was my fault.

"If you don't mind, please leave," I kept my calm and neutrality on my front as she gazed at me, obviously searching for some chink in my armor. As always, she would never find any. I was Cheyenne Thorn, the master of hiding how I felt.

She stood there for what seemed to be a minute, her lip quivering slightly as she turned on her heel, marching towards the door. She grabbed her purse, taking the last 20 years along with her. Well, at least I didn't have to deal with Joaquin or Tomas anymore.

When the door closed on the last second, I let out the breath that I was holding, shaking my hands to myself. Compartmentalize, Cheyenne. I just had to swallow and ignore and I would be fine. I just breathed in deep as I walked over to get my phone, seeing that Davina had continued calling me.

What was she calling me for?

She never sought to call me ever.

I just rolled my eyes and declined the call, not wanting to deal with her and her bullshit. I had enough to deal with, and hearing whatever girl she found was not going to help.

It hadn't hit me yet and I didn't think that it would. People always say that real loss was the feeling that you got when you lost someone that you loved more than yourself. I loved Vivi a lot, but I always knew that someday, it would end.

It always did.

I just squeezed my fists and started to pack up my most important belongings, realizing that this wasn't where I wanted to be anymore. 

I opted to go home because I missed the feeling of my actual bed and I didn't think I could be in my studio any longer. It held too many bad feelings and I needed to be free if I was going to use my hobby for my own benefit. I needed to feel as if there was nothing else important in the world. With a sigh and a toss of my bag in the passenger seat of my Koenigsegg, the engine lit up with vigor and I was on my way back to Palo Alto Hills.

I knew that something was wrong with me because I turned up AC/DC's Highway to Hell when it came on the radio. I never listened to music like that, but I found that my ears were ringing with how loud I was blasting it. It just felt like an appropriate time to let loose, now that I lost almost everything. 

A part of me wanted to be mad at her for not understanding how I felt, but I just had to come to terms with the fact that life changes people—I knew that far well than anyone I knew. 

The music soothed my empty soul as I whirled past the country club, not seeing my mother's truck in sight. It would make sense that she was at home because whenever she was out, she never bothered to call me. She never called me, to begin with, so maybe this time, it was serious. 

One could only hope that she was feeling particularly kind today. Maybe she would even offer a hug once she saw the dead look on my face. Nah, she hadn't hugged me like a mother would hug her in son in a long time. I didn't think I could recall that feeling because it was ancient, not that I cared. 

Once I was close, I pulled through the estates of Thorn, wondering what hell I was going to have to deal with. I felt sluggish and tired and I just wanted to be thrown against a brick wall. Maybe that would offer some way of coping for me.

When I stepped through the front door, the atmosphere was choking, its grip around my throat as it threatened to take away every source of air I had. It was as if a weight was pressing down on me, looming over me as I fought to keep standing up. "Where were you?" I blinked to hear the sound of Giuseppe Zanotti heels clicking against the floor along with the sound of that icy voice. "Out," I folded my arms, staring into the eyes of one Davina Thorn as she clicked her teeth. "Well, you should've answered my calls," She sighed and I almost had the nerve to say that she sounded extremely nervous and guilty.

"Why's that?" I raised a brow, hearing shuffling coming from the main living room and I narrowed my eyes, knowing that this was around the time the maids had lunch. Davina fixed me with a look that I hadn't seen in eight years as she twiddled with her fingers, shaking her head. "We always told her not to come back..." She whispered to herself and my eyes widened, my feet taking off, without a doubt, in the direction of the living room.

NO.

'Davina has to be lying,' I told myself as I stormed through the double doors. I could feel my heartbeat racing as my hands began to shake, all repressed memories making their way to the surface as my own eyes landed on familiar blue ones. 'But she's not.' My voice fell to a quiver as I stood frozen, my throat constricted and gasping for air as every muscle in my body told me to flee. 

I could hear the blood pounding in my ears as the soft murmurs filled the air. Was that pathetic voice mine? Why did I sound so distraught? I couldn't move yet my body was trembling as the bitter taste of blood filled my mouth. Why? Why now? 

I blinked back and forth, hoping that it was a figment of my imagination, but it was vividly real as the person stood up, a guilty smile on her lips as she sought to speak. "Cheyenne, hi," Her voice wasn't the same as I remembered it, but it still burned a fiery hole in my chest and I fought to retain my ground and remain free of feelings, even if I felt my world crumbling.

"Christine."