A TWIST OF FATE || Rewriting

Ch. 33 || Past

Cade 🚬

I threw the burned-out cigarette into the ocean and lit up a new one, the smoke filled my lungs as I watched the previous one disappear into the darkness of waves at the shore. Lightning stuck across the dark clouds, the waves gently crashing against my large feet- given my 6 '6 height.

The ocean looks dark and scary tonight, just the way it pleases me. I have always preferred this time of the year whenever I visit this island, just for this dark angry ocean and these black clouds spreading like a blanket over it. It resembles my soul- bottomless, empty but scary.

I may not show it, but I'm an unapologetic psychopath, an enigma with fucked up morals. I was born this way. Everywhere I go, I have a bad reputation, a knack of psycho sculptor. Because hell is not up in the skies or at the core of the earth, it's inside of me and I'm the devil who sits on the fucking throne.

Zaria and Damien were the only two people I ever cared for in my life. They're the only ones who truly know me. I can't be mad at Damien for betraying me, I myself have betrayed many people's trusts. But it pisses me off that he broke my sister's heart. She may not be my biological sister but ever since the day I met her, she feels like a family. Like my own.

I hear incoming footsteps walking down the hill behind me. The only good they did to us is turn us into monsters. The ability of hearing from afar is not blissful or magical, it's a reminder of the sins, of the torture.

"Where to?" Zaria spoke from behind and I turned around. Her face shadowed in the night.

"To the west. You brought the letters with you?" I ask and she nods in yes.

"Don't expose them until it's necessary." I say and she forces a smile of acknowledgement on her face.

I couldn't get a good look of her eyes but they're swollen and red ever since Damien left yesterday. Last night she broke down in my arms and for that, I so passionately desire to avenge that fucker.

I lead Zaria to the small cottage where the priest and his grandson live secretly, hidden from the rich elitists here. We walk west down the cliff; I protectively hold Zaria's hand as we walk down on tiny stairs carved right into the cliff.

"Is that where they live?" Zaria asks when the cottage comes into view. Brown cottage with a pathway covered in large trees, hidden well.

I nod. Another lighting strikes across the sky and the rain follows. We immediately rush towards the house, me stepping in front of her as a shield, and knock on the door. An old-bald-bulky man with white bandholz beard wearing white alb creaks through the door at us. He spreads the door wide open when he recognises me.

Inside is warm because of the enormous fireplace. It's much bigger on the inside than from the outside. Smell of fresh tea wafts through the air, mixed with petrichor.

Dusting the wet drops off my black hoodie, my eyes catch his grandson sitting at the table by the fireplace. The same boy who crashed into me and Zaria on the street, the night before their wedding.

"This is the mysterious young lady." The old fuck says fixing his glass. I glared at him to get straight to the business.

"How do you know me?" Zaria questions.

The priest lets out a friendly chuckle and pulls out some codex books off his bookshelf and slides himself onto a chair behind the table.

He laughs and says "It's hard to not know when that young man there threatens the life of my grandson for you." He points at me with his eyes.