Olivier Westley
November 11, 2015 6:54 PM
In a handbasket. by Olivier Westley
Olivier got off the flying wagon and made his way past the bumbling first years, their snotty little faces overwhelmed with the sheer immensity of the school. He scofed, letting his cheerful image slip slightly as he walked down the hallway to the portrait of Gunter the Zombie. At this point he didn’t even know why he tried anymore. Despite the sickeningly sweet exterior that he gave off and his sister’s quiet habits, people flocked to her and stayed away from him. This didn’t bother him particularly as Olivier actually preferred to be left alone, but it did frustrate him. Had he not given his classmates enough credit? Certainly they were not particularly clever, but cleverness did not always indicate perceptiveness. He shook his head and let himself collapse onto the bed. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take. Everything was changing.Ever since the past year with the satori Lena had been avoiding him. He didn’t know why this was, but it hurt. Lena was not only his best friend, but she was his twin, she was his sister. They had been through everything together. She was his to protect. Yet she was running from his arms into all the (shudder) boys. She was growing up. He had always known that she would grow up. And when she was of marriageable age he had expected to find someone worthy enough to marry her. He would settle her in and then he would watch from afar, make sure no harm came to her or her children. But he hadn’t expected for it to hurt this much. The further away she pulled, the sicker and sicker he felt. The months of little to no communication was wearing on him heavily. His grades (always superb Before) were slipping, it was harder and harder to concentrate. He felt foggy and drained most days. He rarely slept and when he did it was restless.
When they went home for the summer he’d thought that maybe things would change. Away from the oppressive walls of the school things should have snapped back to normal. But as Lena pulled away from him, Olivier realised that he was pulling away from her. If it made her happy to be left alone then he would happily comply. Who was he to cause her unhappiness? Anything to make Lena happy. And when they were home they could work things out. But by the time they were back to Wales the gap was too big. There was no bridging, no possibility for reconciliation. He stood up suddenly, prepared to bolt to the bathroom as he felt a wave of nausea come on but just as quickly as it came, it dissipated.
That part over he contemplated making his way down to Cascade Hall to get something to eat but quickly changed his mind. He was certain that eating would only cause him to feel further ill. It was probably best that he have a lie down instead and try to get some sleep. He was grateful that the only two other Crotali in his year were girls so he had a room to himself. The idea of a pestering roommate coming to bother him in this state of mind greatly disturbed Olivier and beyond that he didn’t think he would have been able to handle not having a place to wind down after a rough day. Before Sonora he and Lena had been able to retreat to the fields, then they were just these innocent children who still saw the world in a positive light. And Lena was still like that—as far as he knew.
But things had changed for Olivier. He was growing up and he was quickly finding that he did not like the person he was becoming. No one was good enough to keep Lena company anymore—not even him (though he was still a better choice for friendship than many of the other brainless bodies they went to school with). He made a mental list of the various guys in their school, which one did he think was suitable to take care of Lena for the rest of their lives. He tried his hardest to find redeeming qualities, he really did. But none of them were good enough. He hated them all. Needing to rest his troubled mind he tried to go to sleep but even there these thoughts plagued him…
He was walking down an aisle, Lena on his arm in a beautiful white gown that highlighted the shapeliness of her legs, her waist, her… At the end of the aisle a faceless man awaited, Lena’s face full of joy as she squeezed her brother’s arm, his heart clenching in his chest as he thought of the unknown dangers she would face without him there to protect her. He held her hand tight as they got to the end of the aisle, the unknown man reaching out his hand to take Lena away from him. Olivier kissed his sister’s hand gallantly and took his seat in the front most pew. It was funny how life worked out—to get a front row seat to his own personal hell.
All of a sudden the floor opened and as he fell, he looked up. He saw white, Lena’s dress. He tried to scream, claw his way to the top. But something was pulling him down. Pretty soon everything went black, the air felt heavy on his chest and he felt cold despite the flames around him. He wanted comfort—not that of a mother but that of a lover. He tried to fill his mind’s eye with images of the village girls with their long, silken hair, their welcoming smiles, the perfect curve of their back, the plunging necklines that hinted at something more. So often this summer he had been tempted. So often he had resisted. He was above this, above this sort of affection. But something about them reminded him again of what it was he craved.
In the end, he was nothing more than the exact sort of perverse person he wanted to protect his sister from.
10
Olivier Westley
In a handbasket.
282
Olivier Westley
1
5