Young Writers Society

I'm conflicted with this chapter...would really apperciate the help :-)

IVY

Friday 16th December 2016

Ivy headed to college with mixed emotions. She was distraught to lose someone she’d become close with considering their history, but enjoyed giving him the overdue pain he deserved. Also, Damon was driving his ‘borrowed’ motorcycle he still hadn’t given back; at a speed so fast that she’d meet God any second now!

When they finally arrived, he parked in the college car park. Damon stared at the sea of students walking up the drive.

  “Someone caught your eye?” Ivy asked as she held her head, dizzy from the fast driving.

  “Aren’t those Matthew’s goons?”

Ivy looked at the boys in stylish clothing, similar to what Matthew used to wear but they didn’t share his trait of looking flawless in everything they wore. Their eyes locked as they walked towards the entrance, glaring at her as she cowered. She had to make it seem like she was the same weak, pathetic girl she was before or they’d think something was amiss. She did kill her leader and soon they’d be wondering where he is.

Damon took of his black tinted sunglass and gazed at her, Ivy narrowed her eyes at his unusual behaviour.

  “I’m proud of you Ivy; you’ve come a long way from when I first met you.”

  “Heartfelt speeches don’t suit you Damon,” Ivy mocked.

  “Well listen carefully, it’s the first and last one you’ll ever hear from me.”

Ivy tapped her feet impatiently. “Out with it then, class starts soon!”

  “Don’t rush me,” he warned. “I didn’t think you’d make it, if I’m honest. I thought you’d commit suicide because it was too much, but I’m not sorry I did it. You became stronger and now I can truly say that you deserve the title of Master.”

Damon got of the motorcycle and knelt before her, if the car park was full of people Ivy would have scolded him but it was empty. A tear fell on Damon’s head and he lifted his head to see Ivy crying.

  “Just this once I’ll let you cry,” he said as he opened his arms, inviting her in for a hug.

Ivy looked at him quizzically as she wiped away her tears. “I thought you hated hugs?” Ivy bit at the chance and wrapped her arms around him. To her surprise he embraced her tightly.

  “I hate you for doing it,” she admitted, her voice cold. “I’ll forgive you but I won’t forget.” She stormed off leaving Damon in the car park.

Ivy arrived at her English Literature class a minute late but luckily for her she made it in time for the roll call. Her teacher, Mrs Daley gave her a stern look as she entered the class. Mrs Daley was a big woman and even though she wore the same clothing each week she didn’t care, she wasn’t here to make friends. She wore round glasses and her dirty blonde hair was styled in a bob.

When the teacher called for Matthew the response was silent. Her immediate reaction was to look at Ivy who shrugged dumbfounded but she wasn’t buying it, neither was the class.

Throughout the lesson, Ivy’s attention was on the chair next to her, Matthew’s seat. Damon was wrong; she hadn’t become stronger just better at hiding her true feelings. She looked at her nails; well technically she had none - because of him. The memory both aroused and terrified her.

Screams echoed from the warehouse, distilling the quiet night. Blood dripped from the glass table staining the dirty, wooden floor.

Matthew covered her lips with his hand. “Shhh,” he cooed. “Don’t scream, it gives the impression that something's wrong.”

Tears rolled down her cheeks as she watched him throw the nail he ripped out in the bin. How did she put herself in this mess? If she could go back in time she’d save herself the misery but such magic didn’t exist, there was no getting out of this.

  “Stop crying, it makes you look beautiful and I can’t allow that,” he ordered as he wiped away her tears. “Too beautiful,” he sucked her finger, tasting the blood that oozed from her nails. “Can I take out another? Maybe your toe nails?” Ivy shook her head in refusal and shook the chains that strapped her to the table, desperate to break free. “Next time then.”

*****

  “It’s 11pm, where is she?” an old woman asked Damon as she paced uneasily across the living room.

She was ugly to be frank but she held herself with a natural grace that excused her for some part. Her head was covered with white strands of hair, dotted across her scalp. Her pink lips were thin and pale but her azure eyes held a beauty within that she’d kept locked away for a long time. Scars decorated her cheeks and she wore a dress of black feathers that concealed her shame underneath.

  “Calm down, Belial, I’m sure she’s fine,” Damon assured

As if on cue, Ivy burst through the front door, bailing as she ran and locked herself inside her room.

Belial knocked on Ivy’s door. “Ivy? Ivy are you alright?”

  “Leave me alone!” Ivy snapped.

  “Someone’s in a foul mood.”

Belial walked towards Damon in an annoyed manner. “You know full well why!”

  “If I want her soul to bloom I need to expose her to the bees,” Damon defended.

Belial slapped him. “You evil bastard!” she hissed before storming out.

Ivy lay on the carpet; she was too dirty to lie on the clean bed. Scruff, her white furred Pomeranian puppy, lay with her as if knowing it would ease her pain. But not all was well within her. It was times like this when she was vulnerable to the darkness seeping through the cracks; to the voices in her head that would whisper sweet poison.

  Why are you crying?

Ivy curled up into a ball, holding her head as if to block out the voice.

  Look what he did to you, to us. We’re damaged goods now; no one will ever want us.

Tears streamed down her cheek, Scruff licked them away but it didn’t stop them from falling.

  You can’t let him have his way with you, you’re stronger than this!

Ivy shook her head in denial.

  Yes you are! And you know it. All you have to do his take charge – you remember what father used to say, right? ‘If you can’t make them bend at the knee, cut of their heads.’

*****

Ivy shivered at the memory. She looked at her fingers and rolled up her sleeves revealing various other scars. There’s beauty in pain and these scars tell our story, our suffering, wise words from a late friend.

  “Ivy!” Miss Daley shouted, waking her up from her trip to memory lane.

Ivy looked dazed. “Yes, miss?”

  “What’s the answer?”

Ivy narrowed her eyes in confusion. “Sorry, what was the question?”

Miss Daley gave a huff of annoyance, she didn’t like repeating herself. “What are the main themes explored in King Lear?”

Ivy let out a breath of relief; she had this in the bag. “Madness, age, betrayal, love, nature, fate vs free will-”

  “Okay, okay, no need to show off.”

Ivy smirked at her then looked at her nails a final time, ‘Beauty in pain’; those words lingered in her mind. ‘Beauty in pain’.