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 Hate So Good
A High School Bully Romance

Nina Lincoln
 Copyright © 2021 Nina Lincoln

All rights reserved

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real
persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in

any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise,
without express written permission of the publisher.

Cover design by: Rebecacovers

Printed in the United States of America
 About Nina Lincoln

Hi! I’m Nina. I love to read. Obsessively. No joke. Just ask my husband. I was born and raised in the
Pacific Northwest. Pursued a graduate degree in Forensic Psychology in the great NYC and settled in Phoenix.
I’m an avid Elvis Presley fan, a Tudor history aficionado (or at least I like to think so), and a zombie/end
of the world junkie, who happens to also be a sucker for a happy ending! Yes, I see the contradiction.
On those rare occasions when I am not engrossed in a good book or writing my own, I can be found
cuddled up to my furry companions (the dogs, not my husband) and relaxing with my best friend (my
husband, not the dogs).
~Nina

Follow Nina: Nina Lincoln

IG: NinaLincolnAuthor
Twitter: LincolnNina
Website: http://www.NinaLincoln.com
Amazon: Nina Lincoln
For the broken boys and the beautiful girls and everything in between.
 Contents

Title Page
Copyright
About Nina Lincoln
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Epilogue
The End
Acknowledgments
Books by Nina Lincoln
Hate So Sweet – Coming Soon!
 Chapter One
I spent the weekend visiting my mom's grave, catching her up on
the shit storm I’ve been surrounded in since I moved here a few
months ago. As you can imagine, it was mostly me talking, and I
guess I’m not much of a listener.
The summer before my senior year of high school, my dad lost his
fight with his constant need for control, killing my mom in a rage.
The culmination of years of abuse dwindled to one horrific moment
that can never be taken back.
Now my dad’s in prison for life, or so I thought until I found out
he’s fighting his conviction - not the best of news.
With my parents out of commission, I was shipped off to my Aunt
Maggie, my mom's twin sister. The two couldn’t be more different,
and I’m still getting to know her because, as you can imagine, we
didn’t visit much when Dad was around.
Although she’s been nothing but good to me, taking me in, we
spend little time together, still, I’ve grown fond of her no-nonsense
personality. She works two jobs and refuses to accept payment from
my trust, and I guess I don’t blame her, it’s probably akin to blood
money in her mind.
When I came here and started my final year of school, I thought
grieving over the loss of my mom would be the extent of my issues.
I mean, could it get any worse?
Apparently yes, because bad-boy hottie Colton Theroux had it out
for me the second my feet hit the ground at Northside High, and
maybe before since he apparently knew I was coming before I
arrived.
The year so far has been rife with insults, physical violence, and
machinations I wouldn’t ever have guessed possible in the devious
minds of my fellow students turned enemies. And to top it off, I
stupidly fell for the bad boy who played me from the start.
 Finding out he used and abused me because he was bored should
have been enough, but even that didn’t compare to what I found out
next. He was posing as my stalker and contributed to the terror I felt
at the hands of a nameless, faceless fan who left me threatening
notes, the worst of which was left in my bedroom and tipped me
right over the edge.
I got my revenge, though, on prom night no less, exposing his
mom and dad’s sordid love affair for the whole of Southside and
Northside students to see.
Colt, who’s tortured me from the beginning because I don’t fit in
because I come from privilege, has his own rich daddy, who, by the
way, is married to two women.
Yep, I went there, and I’d like to say I regret it, but I don’t. Colt
asked for every dirty bit of his life to be revealed. I mean, all’s fair in
love in war. Right?
Prom should have been the last hurrah of my senior year, but
instead of snuggling up to a date who actually liked me, I was
carefully constructing an act of revenge, which, if nothing else,
showed Colt I’m no shrinking violet.
Anyway, that shit show happened on Saturday, and as I let myself
out of the house Monday morning, setting the alarm I had installed
when I thought a psychopath was stalking me, I wonder how today
is going to go down.
Frankly, Colt’s lucky I didn’t report his psychopathic nonsense to
the police, but I’m no snitch, and Colt, if nothing else, has taught me
the value of the big play. I made him pay, and still, all I feel is numb.
There’s not a spark of guilt on this conscience.
I’ve no idea how everyone reacted or if they even know they have
me to thank for the shocking information. I turned my phone off
Saturday night, and only as I park at school this morning do I fire it
up.
Dozens of pings come through, but I ignore them. I’m still unclear
who helped Colt with his devious plans, and until I am, they’re all on
my shit list. He had to have little helpers planting his cruel notes and
leaving me the gifts that freaked me out. The question is, whom
amongst his group of friends do I have to be wary around?
 Unfortunately, until I figure it out, I’m left with just Melissa, who
grudgingly helped me orchestrate my revenge on Saturday night,
but not without dire warnings of what I’m getting myself into if I
proceed. I owe her a debt, she’s still considering how I can repay,
but it’s worth it, though, even if it costs me my father’s millions.
I’m on the fence about Teddy, who’s only ever been nice to me,
but he’s so close to the group who’s been gunning for me since I
came, and I’m unsure of his involvement. It sucks to wonder if the
only friend you had was acting for the benefit of Colt and his evil
plans, but by default, Teddy would be loyal to his sister, and Ramie
most assuredly falls in camp Colt.
Exiting the vehicle, I breathe in the crisp air and long for warmer
weather. I’m a transplant from LA and still not used to the chill that
permeates my bones at times.
Shivering into my jacket, I head for the doors absently, still caught
up in the loop that is Colton Theroux. So, it’s with nothing but
surprise I stop up short when I spy none other than him standing
with Hayden, both of them grinning like fools.
As of Friday, Colt was a student at Northside high school. Why is
he standing in Southside’s lot on a Monday morning ten minutes
before school starts?
I transferred out of Northside to escape my stalker, which couldn’t
have come at a better time when I was brutally confronted by Colt’s
betrayal as he sucked face with his ex-bitch, Sarah Fremont.
So, what’s Colt doing here now?
Although he’s grinning, pretending to be lighthearted, I can see
the cracks beneath the veneer. His sensual mouth is tight around the
edges, and his icy eyes crinkle at the corners.
He’s so beautiful I can’t help but shiver, remembering every line
and peak that makes up his form.
Despite how it all ended, I still dream about how we came
together. Whether sweet or rough, those were the times I never
doubted his feelings for me, but I guess that was me being foolish.
As it turns out, Colt’s the greatest actor of them all.
His gaze searches over the lot as though he can sense my stare,
and maybe he can - he has a knack for finding me wherever I go.
Bracing for the impact, I wait for him to see me, knowing what his
stunning eyes do to my insides.
Colt’s beautiful with dark glossy hair brushing his shoulders and
pale grey eyes that are striking in contrast. He’s tall, slim with a
powerful physique complete with sleek muscles and strong arms to
which my body liquefies in memory of our intimate moments
together even as my heart clenches painfully at his betrayal.
It’s that which he sees when his gaze meets mine, his eyes
lighting up with unholy fire. If I thought his icy glares from before
were terrifying, freezing me out as they were meant to, his heated
glare now promises retribution, which sends an answering thrill
down my spine.
He’s angry, so very angry. I have to suck air into my frozen chest
because even in his hostility, his beauty is like a jab to the solar
plexus, and my body tingles everywhere, answering his primal call.
Bewildered, I'm caught in his gaze until I pass, his answering
smirk telling me I didn’t do much of a job convincing him I don’t
care.
Which is fine - he can see my desire, but he can never see my
need for more. I’ll have to bury it deep and never let it see the light
of day again.
Pulling on the door, I glance his way to confirm he’s still got his
pale eyes locked on me, and a rush of heat passes through me as I
give him a tiny smirk, and his mouth pulls up in answer.
With a thrill, I escape inside - this is going to be interesting.

*****
Since moving to Southside, my day to day has become a lot
simpler. Hayden, Colt’s ex-best friend, or so I thought, took me
under his wing, and the bullying I had been subjected to at North
subsided. Although it made my days a lot more peaceful, it also left
me with an itch I couldn’t scratch.
Admittedly only to myself, I missed the constant thrill of being
around Colt even when it was at the hands of his cruelty.
 Yes, I know this makes me sick in the head, but I can’t help it -
even now, my blood sings in my veins, knowing he’s just outside
those doors.
Every interaction with him leaves me trembling with excitement
and desire. He’s like a live wire, beautiful to look at but deadly to
touch.
Fending off Colt may be harder than I thought, considering the
devastation that inspired me to bare his secrets to all and my
response to the savage call he pinned me with just moments ago.
I know I can’t avoid reality forever, and now that Colt has made
his first shot, I’m firmly entrenched in another battle, so I bite the
bullet and settle into my seat in my first class, opening my phone.
Regardless of whether I trust anyone, I need intel, and these
fuckers are the only ones who can give it to me.
My phone immediately flashes with incoming texts, and one by
one, I open them to read.

Ramie: Holy shit! Did you see what someone posted on the wall?
Dirk: You’re a bad, bad girl, was that you?
George: I’m glad you got prom queen, you deserved it
Teddy: I guess I missed a helluva show last night
Unknown: If you think you can run, you’re dead wrong

Okay, creepy. I’ve had my fair share of haters since I started at

Northside last year. Those who hated me on principle, those who
followed Colt’s lead, and those who were jealous of what Colt and I
had. I’m not immune to the abuse, and after a time, I’ve become
accustomed to it.
Here at Southside, Hayden, the king as Colt is or was at Northside,
made that vitriol disappear, allowing me to escape any rancor that
could have followed me.
And with some peace, if a good dose of boredom, I settled in and
focused on making Colt believe I left him and walked straight into
Hayden’s arms. This was all Hayden’s idea, and I went along after a
drunken night of self-pity, which left me grossly hungover the
following day.
 However, now that I’ve seen them hanging around outside, I
wonder if I can include Hayden on the list of jerks who played me.
Did they laugh together when he convinced me to kiss him? Or the
times I attended parties on his arm all for the sake of riling Colt up?
It’s painfully harsh to wonder if you can trust anyone who’s been
around from the beginning. Am I really that gullible? Or are they
that cunning?
Truthfully, I’m unsure if Colt even cared about Hayden’s overtures
and our fake dating. Although at times his responses could be
construed as jealousy, he was still, by all accounts, back together
with Sarah Bitch Fremont, who I firmly believe assisted in killing
whatever humanity Colt was clinging to.
My head is so spun out from their games, and I have no notion of
what is the truth, if any of it.
Scrolling through, I open a text from Teddy that’s just come
across. Teddy is the only soul at North who hasn’t screwed me over.
He’s a jolly fellow who’s quite observant, sharp, acerbic, and
paralyzed from the waist down.
There are times I’ve questioned his loyalty, but so far, his biggest
flaw, in my opinion, is his defense of Colt with the indefensible. Even
so, it’s a hallmark of his true friendship, and I can’t fault him for
that.
Since he’s also Ramie’s brother, this further muddies the waters in
terms of trust, which is all a complete mindfuck, but in my darkest
times, he was the only light, accepting me despite Colt’s decree I
was public enemy number one.
So, it’s with a good dose of caution that I maintain our friendship,
even as I worry about his motivations. Nothing is ever as it seems
here.

Teddy: what the hell is going on? Word on the street is that Colt’s
made an appearance at South? Are you there? Is it true?
Finn: I can confirm the sighting is true
Teddy: what! What the hell is going on now?
Finn: no clue
Finn: have you heard anything?
 Teddy: not beyond the fiasco at prom, wish I could’ve seen that
Teddy: Was that you?
Finn: how is everyone reacting?
Teddy: so far, I think everyone is just trying to figure out what’s
going on...you should see Sarah’s face

The bell rings overhead, and students begin shuffling in, their
voices loud in the formerly quiet space. With a small smile, I close
my phone and glance around.
Sarah’s been a thorn in my side since I learned of her existence.
It's hard to regret anything that’s coming to her. She’s a snake, and
she needs to be caged if you ask me.
I wonder how she’s feeling after she showed up to school and
found her supposed boyfriend missing. It sucks to be used, hmm?
I can’t say I’m surprised when Colt strolls through the door with a
lazy smile and proceeds to scare off the poor chick who typically sits
beside me before casually taking her seat.
Ignoring him, as best I can, even if his proximity lights a fire in me
that sends tingles down my spine and straight to the good stuff, I
wait until he speaks to turn my head.
This is all a game for him, and how I play it is the only control I
have, but I’m ready.
“Finn,” he says nonchalantly.
“Colt,” I greet him, noting the same heated stare from before.
Resisting the urge to squirm in my seat, I crook a brow instead.
“Fancy seeing you here. What’s the matter? Get tired of Sarah
already?”
“Indeed, I find my interests lie here after all,” he says with a smile,
but it’s decidedly savage, and I suppress a shudder at the dreadful
sight.
“Too bad, since Sarah made all that effort to be with you,” I say
dryly.
He shrugs, and it’s so...him to casually disregard how a girl feels
about him.
Frowning, I turn away, for this is a reminder to keep my shit
together because for Colton Theroux, it’s easy come, easy go.
 “Your jealousy is showing,” he mocks.
“Hardly,” I snort, “I was actually feeling sorry for her.”
“Is that so? And why would you feel sorry for her when she’s done
nothing but try to bring you down?”
Shrugging, I glance his way, “Because Colt, mere mortals like us
like to think we have meaning in other people’s eyes. I know this is a
hard concept for you, but Sarah wanted you to want her.
Unfortunately, you’re clearly incapable of feeling anything, except
maybe hate.”
Raising a brow, he leans forward with a wicked grin, which does
nothing to temper the liquid heat in my veins and murmurs, silkily,
“On the contrary, I’m feeling another emotion this very second.”
“Oh?”
Nodding, he casually grabs his dick and stares at me, “Indeed,
Baby, I’m hard as a fucking rock, and I’d like to fuck you against this
chair right now.”
Swallowing to drum up some spit in my suddenly dry mouth, I
cross my legs under my desk, cursing my traitorous body as
everything south of my waist tingles.
With a surge of annoyance and a good dose of snark, I say, “Case
in point, hate fuck, hate…”
He grins devilishly, his eyes tracing my form with heated intensity,
as his mouth curls back in a cruel smirk, causing my chest to
constrict painfully.
“You’re like the tin man under all that hate, with no heart. Jokes
on you, Colt, you’re standing in the shadows, and you don’t even
know you're missing the light,” I mutter, catching the volatile
expression crossing his face.
Before he can respond, the teacher begins her lesson, and he’s
forced to turn away while I stare into nothing, my heart thumping
hard in my chest at the pained remembrance of one of the many lies
Colt uttered in an attempt to keep his game going.
After a dispute over his attitude toward relationships and love in
general, he told me in a rare moment of vulnerability that I was the
light to his darkness, insisting he needed that light.
 And I stupidly accepted his casual insistence that he liked me
when he all but shoved the fact that he didn’t plan to get attached
down my throat. More fool I. It was all bullshit, as it turns out, but it
made me soft and pliable at the time.
With a grimace, I settle into the lesson and concentrate on the
teacher's words, all in an effort to block out the past that continues
to haunt me.
After, I sail through three more classes, all of which, maddeningly
Colt managed to get in, although luckily these all have assigned
seating, and to his frustration, the teachers won't budge.
At lunch, I’m expecting it, some sick part of me craving it, so I
show no surprise when he corners me, backing me into a wall while
students sail past on the tide heading for the cafeteria.
Leaning my head against the wall, I wait for him to speak, my
pulse picking up when he presses his arm against the wall by my
head, and I’m reminded of the last time I was in this situation.
Ben Johnson, one of Colt's former friends - I thought - who knows
now, cornered me after Colt beat the shit out of him. It came after
Colt’s game to see me make a fool of myself, setting me up to take a
fall by convincing me if I got the goods from a boy at Academy, he’d
make the reign of terror at his hands go away.
Of course, as it turns out, he didn’t need the information. It was
all a bid to make me look like the rich bitch whore willing to fuck my
way into the information he sought. Except, I wasn't a willing
participant and barely made it out after Buck tried to force me, and
Ben stood outside the door and watched, holding the door closed
against my efforts to escape.
It turns out, Colt didn’t appreciate Ben’s lack of intervention and
made sure he understood the error of his ways. After which, Ben
was sent to South, where I ended up a few weeks later, and of
course, he tried to take his rage out on me. I only escaped when
Hayden came along, but it was a near miss.
Interestingly, I’m not sure that even Buck wasn't in on Colt’s
shenanigans because, as it turns out, he’s Colt’s half-brother.
So much of the mystery left to unravel, should I care to find out.
I’ve still got a bone to pick with Buck and perhaps those who
participated in the venture to scare me by way of my stalker. After
all, we’ve established they have no rules when it comes to me.
Why should I play nice?
Colt pulls me back to the present when he grabs my chin and
forces me to gaze into his angry eyes. “You made a mistake,
Princess, a big mistake.”
He’s stroking my jaw, and it's distracting because his hand is
warm, his fingers rough, but I try to focus on the topic at hand, my
revenge, and his big reveal. “Perhaps it's you who made a mistake,
Colt. Maybe you shouldn't have messed with me, to begin with.”
He smiles cruelly, running his finger over my bottom lip, “No,
Baby, you don't understand, you started something you can't finish.”
“No, Colt,” I say, batting his hand away with a shiver, fuck me, but
my body’s on fire at the prospect of what he might do with that
damn finger. Jerk.
“You made a mistake. You started this. The depths to which you
are willing to sink are fucking disgusting. Did you think I wouldn’t
figure it out? You’re lucky I didn’t call the fucking cops. That was
only because I like your mom.”
“Cops? What the fuck are you talking about?” he growls, his brows
arching over his eyes.
“The dolls, dick. The notes. The fucking note sitting on my pillow
while I slept! You fucking tortured me into believing someone was
breaking into my home and threatening me. I mean, is there no
level to which you won't sink?”
His face falls at the mention of the dolls, and my chest tightens
with anger and hurt all over again. Somehow, amongst all the shit
he threw my way, including making me think he liked me just to
move on to Sarah, the stalker shit hurts most of all. I literally feared
for my life and refused to sleep in my bed for weeks after, and he
played right along with me, pretending concern, even going so far as
to bring a doll supposedly left at his house, posing as a threat to him
because of me.
I mean diabolical shit. Right?
“News flash, Finn, yes, I put a couple of dolls on your desk
because it was funny, but I didn’t leave any fucking notes, and I
didn’t kill a fucking bird and leave it in a box. That shit isn’t funny,”
he says, incredulously.
“Right!” I scoff, “As if I’m gonna believe a single word that comes
out of your mouth. You’re a fucking psychopath with an ax to grind.
Fine, I get it, you hate me. For reasons I suspect I'll never
understand. But you drew the fucking line with the notes, Colt and I
responded in kind. Leave me the fuck alone, and maybe we can
move on.”
Caressing my chin, he smirks, and it’s the curl of his lip I love to
hate or hate to love, I guess. Shit, but Colt’s burrowed so far under
my skin I still yearn for his touch, and he fucking broke my heart.
“Oh no, Finn. This isn’t over until I get my pound of fucking flesh.
You think you can air my family’s secrets to the entirety of both
fucking schools, and I’ll lay down and take it? Nope, not gonna
happen.”
“Whatever,” I say, rolling my eyes. “What do you think you can do
to me that you haven't already done? What more could you possibly
do? Sink the knife in my chest, Colt, that’s the only thing left. I don't
care anymore. You want to fuck Sarah, fuck her. You want to fuck
the entirety of the school, do it. You want to get the whole damn
school to hate me and pick on me? Do it. You want to pull me into
some stupid game with Buck, give it a shot. You’ve got nothing left
to play. There’s nothing left here,” I say, pounding my chest harshly.
Gazing at my hand intently, he smiles grimly and leans forward,
cupping my cheek and whispering, “Maybe, maybe not. But you’re
fooling yourself if you think I can’t have you anytime I want. And I
think, Princess, that maybe you’re lying to yourself when you insist
there’s nothing left here.”
Sliding his hand from my cheek, he runs it down the side of my
neck and places it over my heart, where my pulse is pounding at the
contact. Need courses through me in waves, leaving me weak-kneed
and shaky, but I’ll be damned if I let him in on that fact.
“Nonsense, as you said, love is for the weak. If I’ve learned
anything from you, it's that,” I say through dry lips.
He chuckles, but the sound is dark, his eyes icy. “If that’s the case,
then you won't mind a little game.”
 My heart lurches, ice traveling down my spine. After all this, he
still can’t fucking let it go. Annoyed by my fucking hormones and his
asshole grin, I clench my teeth and smile grimly.
“Bring it. Because Colt...I still hate you,” I whisper, ducking under
his arm and walking away.
Slipping out of sight and into a restroom, I lock myself in the stall
and breathe deeply. Get your shit together Finn, you don't care
about him, you don't want him, and you definitely don't feel tingles
every time he steps into your presence.
He’s your enemy, and nothing can change that. Nothing.
Colt somehow managed to enroll in every single one of my
classes, and by the end of the day, I’m both admiring of his power
and annoyed. I’ve had no chance to relax. He’s been giving me
glares every chance he gets, a promise of what's to come, but I
meant what I said. What could he possibly do after everything he’s
already pulled?
I don’t trust a single one of his friends. I don't trust him. I’ll never
be able to believe a single thing that comes out of his mouth, even if
he insists he’s genuine. I mean, his insistence about the notes is a
point, in fact. How can I even know if he’s lying, planning some new
angle of revenge I won't fucking see coming? I can't.
I haven’t gotten a single note or grotesque offering since I came
to South, and now that I’ve confronted him, he’s done with that
avenue, or so I hope. Because despite how much I like his mom, I
will report it next time.
After school, Nate surfaces, and I wince as he walks with me to
my car. “Hey, pretty girl, how’s it going?”
Shit, with everything else that went down, I forgot about our
make-out session at prom. Truthfully, I was in a zone that night, and
while Nate’s attention wasn’t unwelcome, the majority of my efforts
were in direct relation to how it would impact Colt.
Essentially, I strung Nate along, and no matter my enmity toward
Colt, I don’t feel any spark with Nate, and now I have to look into
his gleaming eyes and let him down easy.
“Good,” I murmur, “how about you?”
 “Okay, I’m fucking dreading the senior trip, though. Who decides
taking a bunch of underage dicks camping is a good idea?”
“Uh, what? Senior trip?” I stutter, a new horror suffusing my
system. What fresh hell is this? I’ve no good memories from the few
times Dad took me camping with him. None.
“Yeah, didn’t you read about it? Every year the seniors get a trip,
except the budget’s too low this year, and we're stuck camping in
the wilderness. Fucking blows.”
“I - wow, that sounds really horrible. Can't you just say no?”
Please, God, let me say no.
“Nope, part of our senior experience, we’re even graded on it,” he
says glumly.
“Graded how?”
“Science or some shit. You know, nature.”
With a new horror to contend with, I part ways with him and open
my car, throwing my bag inside.
“Finn, I’m disappointed. I thought you’d be the first to greet me
this morning as my girlfriend and all,” Hayden purrs behind me.
Turning, I give him a blank stare. Hayden’s tall, built, and a little
fucking dark. When I met him the first time, I knew then to stay the
fuck away. If Colt’s a lion stalking the jungle, Hayden’s a fucking
velociraptor.
“Hayden, you were fucking some chick at prom. Even if I believed
you about the little charade you concocted, it’s hardly believable
when you can’t keep your dick in your pants.”
“Charade? I’ll have you know it was working just fine until you
stopped playing the part,” he says, affronted. “And what do you
mean if you believed me?”
“C’mon, it's clear you’re buddies with Colt. Why would I believe
you didn’t make this shit up to get at me the same way everyone
else has?”
“Because, yes, Colt’s my friend or was. But he’s still a dick who
deserves a good lesson every once in a while. Believe what you will,
but it ate him up thinking you were with me,” he states, giving me a
smirk and walking away.
 Rolling my eyes, I jump in my car and head home, disarming the
alarm and arming it behind me once I’m inside. Colt may have been
acting like a dick when he played his little stalking charade, but the
alarm system is something I don’t regret. I feel leagues safer with
the damn thing around.
Collapsing on the couch, I contemplate my day and Colt’s
interference at every turn. I knew the consequences of what I did
would probably be extreme, and I’m not looking forward to it, but
I’m not unprepared either.
What I said was true. What could Colt possibly do after the shit
he’s already pulled?
From day one, he was gunning for me. He got the whole school to
hate me, judging me without cause. Then he set me up to meet
some dick from Academy, who coincidentally turned out to be his
half-brother, to make me look like the Princess he continues to call
me - this after suckering me into thinking he would get everyone to
back off if I just got the dirt from the same dude.
Apparently, that wasn’t enough, though, because he made me fall
for him and betrayed me in front of the whole school.
All of which pales in comparison to his ultimate scheme, scaring
the living shit out of me by orchestrating the stalker shit too.
I’ve been hated, tormented, called names, forced to see I’m not
good enough, scared out of my wits, and humiliated in front of my
peers. I mean, there’s nothing left.
Still, my mind whirls with the possibilities because if I were to
underestimate Colt, it would be to my detriment.

*****
The following day, after facing off with Colt in every class and
ignoring his efforts to piss me off by flirting with some chick who
usually hangs off Hayden, I confirm Nate’s statement about the
senior trip. And then spend a good fifteen minutes arguing with my
last period teacher to no avail.
I can’t envision going on a fucking trip into the woods with these
fuckers who’ve shown the depths of the depravity to which they will
sink. And my own less than stellar memories with my dad have been
circling my mind since Nate brought it up yesterday.
To my annoyance, Colt is waiting for me with a smirk on his face
when I exit the classroom with a huff.
Sailing past him, I growl when he steps in beside me and says,
“What's the matter, Princess, don't you like to camp? Maybe you
don't like to get your hands dirty?”
I’m frustrated enough that I bark out a response without thinking
it through, which I regret immediately. I’m done over-sharing with
Colt about anything that involves me. He doesn’t deserve to know
the things that formed me, my heartaches and traumas, my
happiness, and good times. Not a single piece of it. Not even my
terror at his hands.
“Yeah, camping trips were real fun with Dad. The last time I went
willingly, he took me out to the middle of nowhere and left me
behind when he got angry because I was tired and hungry. I was
twelve, dick. It took me five hours wandering through the dark
before I found the campsite.”
His face is frozen, but I don't bother to stay and hear whatever he
has to say. Speaking my truth has brought something out of me
that's pinching my skin, and I feel it pressing at my throat, needing
to get free.
Leaving the school, I head straight to my mom’s grave, laying out
across her plaque and gazing at the sky. Sometimes, dredging up
the past is like reopening a wound that’s barely scabbed over - other
times, it rolls off my back easily. I never know what’s coming and
today is apparently a bad day.
“So now, I have to go on a camping trip. Blah. I’m dreading it. You
know I hate it. You know…”
“Colt’s at South now, and he’s out to get me, but honestly, Mom, I
don’t feel like I have anything left to lose.”
“Did you hate him? Dad? Or did you look into his eyes and feel
pathetically hopeful only for it to be crushed when he broke his
promise once again?”
 *****
Colt’s on me all week, giving me heated smirks from across the
room, taunting me in classes where he's wrangled a seat next to
mine. The sick part of me enjoys the attention, but in the wake of
his betrayal, I can never feel the unfettered joy I felt around him
again.
Now I’m like a crack whore, tempted by something I know is
terrible for me but will give me the high I’ve been craving.
By lunch Friday, I’m annoyed and tired. Everywhere I go, he’s
there, and I’m not sure of his game, but he’s definitely keeping me
on my toes.
Since I’m suspicious of just about everyone’s motives, I accept
Nate’s invitation to eat at his table. He’s the only one who doesn’t
appear to have an affiliation with Colt, and although he’s all smiles,
which makes me a bit uncomfortable, he hasn’t made any more
moves, allowing me to relax and enjoy my lunch as much as I can
anyway.
Unfortunately, I have a feeling I’m going to have to let him down
eventually, which means I could be about to lose a friend -
depressing that.
Colt sits across the way at Hayden’s table, which makes me even
warier of the duo. Clearly, they know each other better than they let
on, and the picture I found of them from a few years ago only
confirms that suspicion.
Not only that, but Hayden’s harem surrounds them, happy to turn
their greedy attention to Colt. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t leave me
cold to watch him flirt, but I’m also not going to give him the
satisfaction of knowing it.
Besides, I can flirt too.
Giving Nate a pretty smile, I glance at Colt from the corner of my
eye and find him staring at me, to which I raise my head to glare
back, giving him my iciest eyes.
He only grins brutally, which gives me goosebumps that I refuse
to admit are anything more than an internal warning system of
things to come, even if my body turns to liquid fire at his savagery at
the same time.
I haven’t had a chance to speak to Melissa about prom since she’s
at North, but I have heard from Teddy that there are rumblings
amongst Colt’s loyal fan club, all via classroom gossip since Teddy
wasn’t at prom himself. Is Colt here for revenge? Or to outrun his
lies?
Per Teddy, the students of Northside were appalled to hear of
Colt’s relation to Buck and shocked, of course, about the two wives
scandal making jokes about sister wives and such.
Apparently, though, they don’t care that Daddy is a rich dick,
skipping over that information and focusing on Buck Stark, who’s
mortal enemy number one since he crashed a party freshman year
and trashed some guy’s house animal style.
When kicked to the curb, his only excuse was, he thought that’s
how the poor assholes lived. Beyond that, Buck has made it his goal
to be a jerk whenever possible, causing general mayhem wherever
he goes. Nobody can stand the prick.
This is no surprise to me. Buck - for all his riches, is clearly a jerk
with a god complex. You’ll never hear me say it to Colt, but if Buck’s
anything to go by, Colt was better off without a full-time daddy
dearest.
“You going to the party this weekend?” Nate asks with a flirty
smile, flashing the dimple that surely makes the girls swoon.
Unfortunately, it’s lost on me because all my attention is centered
on the guy who stands abruptly from his table and exits the cafeteria
loudly.
Smiling at Nate, I murmur, “What party?”

*****
My curiosity about whether Colt transferred to get out of the mess
I created is quickly put to rest when I halfheartedly agree to attend
the party Nate mentioned the week before. Although he definitely
gets the cold shoulder from many, he’s still got the adoration of the
few, which rankles. Dick. I guess it makes sense why he values
loyalty over everything.
Surprisingly, I’m welcomed with open arms by the same jerks who
called me rich bitch and tortured me for months. It’s...weird.
Melissa pulls me away, and we grab a drink before sitting down by
the fire. I’m determined to enjoy myself, even though I caught Colt
lingering in the kitchen with Dirk and George taking shots.
His eyes lit up when he found me crossing the room, and I gave
him a smirk and raised my brow, ignoring the way my nipples
tightened in my shirt at his attention.
Beside him, George gave me a friendly grin, which I returned, but
I ignored the others altogether. Despite their newfound acceptance
of me, I’m still angry and admittedly hurt by their willingness to
participate in my misery.
I don't see Sarah, which is just as well. The bitch deserves more
than a punch to the face, and if she gets in mine, it might be me
who starts the shit this time. Part of me is still pleased she lost out
on prom queen, even though it was not my intention to be the one
to take it from her.
Apparently, our peers voted for me, despite the fact I was no
longer a student at North and the desperate look on her face when
she realized it wasn’t her will live with me for some time to come,
especially because she cruelly rubbed Colt’s betrayal in my face.
The crown and sash now have a place of honor on my dresser,
and every day when I get up in the morning, I spy them and smile
grimly.
I didn't plan it, but I sure got my revenge against the girl who
craves attention like a whore in need of dick. Still, I think she
deserves a little more of my consideration. Was she in on it? Were
they all? I still don't know, which is why I need to bide my time and
wait. Let them think I’m complacent, more fool them.
“How’s Southie?” Melissa grunts, turning her faded blue eyes my
way.
Shrugging, I dip into my drink and say dryly, “It was better before
Colt showed up.”
 She chuckles evilly as I would expect her to do, and I give her a
good glare, which she ignores, much as she ignores most of my
antics. When I was at my lowest, when Colt kicked me to the curb in
front of everyone, declaring we were done and oh, also that I was
boring in bed, Melissa picked me up on the side of the road.
What ensued was a weird-ass interlude in the woods where she
convinced me to scream my rage into the world, and I’ll never admit
it to her, but there was a catharsis in there somewhere.
Since then, she’s wrangled me into parties and hooked me up with
Hayden in a good, not sleazy way.
Because before that, she wanted to kick my ass, I’m able to trust
she’s genuine in her interest. I sense that much like me, she’s tired
of being judged, and maybe in that, we've found our kindred spirits.
That and she’d kick my ass if I said anything otherwise.
“Colt’s had it bad for you since you walked in the door in that
dreadful shirt,” she snorts, taking another gulp of her drink.
I grace her with a death glare, but she’s too into her cups to care,
and she just guffaws, in my face, loudly.
“Whatever,” I grumble.
Apparently, I need to catch up because whatever she’s feeling has
transformed Melissa from a scary beast to a laughing, joking human
being. Who knew?
“It's true,” she says, sobering up slightly. “I’ve known Colt since
kindergarten. He’s changed. Back then and up until a few years ago,
he was fun. I mean, he’s always been an ass who will challenge
anyone for a chance to pound some flesh.”
She says this in an admiring tone, to which I roll my eyes.
“And?” I ask, no longer caring if I sound too eager. She knows I’m
eager.
She confirms my thought with a knowing look, and I just stick my
tongue out at her.
With her own eye roll, she continues, “I don't know, it was right
around when Sarah was here. He changed, lost something. Went
dark. Haven't seen a spark since you came along.”
“A spark? What’s in that drink?” I demand, reaching out for it with
my hand.
 She pulls it away heavily, and it spills down her arm, to which she
laughs and laughs. I’m still staring at her bewildered when Colt
strolls up, pretty as you please, with a calculated expression on his
face.
“Ladies,” he greets us, and our eyes clash.
If I thought his icy stare from before did strange things to my
insides, this new heated version makes me burn, and as if he knows,
which he probably does, his mouth pulls up in a smirk.
Glancing away to hide the heat in my cheeks, I contemplate
another hate fuck. I get what I want and mess with him just the
same.
Turning back with an assessing eye, I catch him looking me over
and smirk myself. Boring, hm? We’ll see about that.
Setting my drink on the ground, I turn to Melissa and ask, “You
wanna dance with me?”
She gives me an appalled look, and chuckling, I turn away without
glancing at Colt.
Making my way closer to the music, I begin to swing my hips - I’m
buzzed enough that this isn't awkward. It also helps that I just don't
care what these people think of me anymore. Ironic, considering
they now apparently like me.
Ignoring everyone around me, I sway to the sounds, dancing to
my inner muse, lost to the sensations. I’ve almost forgotten about
Colt but for the fiery trails that burn over my skin, where I suspect
his gaze is caressing me.
Warm hands grab my hips, and chuckling, I allow myself to be
pulled into a large chest. I think it's Colt for a brief moment, but
then I turn and open my eyes, spying Hayden grinning down at me.
It's just as well, I don't need Colt’s brand of crazy. Giving him a
smile in return, I place my hands on his shoulders and allow him to
lead me along with the music. He’s not half bad, considering he’s
badass - most guys don't want to be seen dancing with a rep like
his.
When he pulls me closer, I turn around, brushing my ass against
his erection, and oh boy, does he have an erection.
 I’m considering if I should continue our little dance, knowing it's
turning him on and possibly teasing him when he leans into me and
says, “Relax, I’ve got plenty of pussy. Let’s give Colt a show, hm?”
I shiver with disgust at his words, which works to my advantage
when I turn my head to the left and spy Colt standing to the side
with a weird expression on his face. Where before, up until the night
of prom, he would’ve barged right in and pretended to be jealous,
this time, he stands by and allows it to happen.
His nonchalance, as though I’ve lost the last bit of him that cared,
causes something to pinch in my chest but again, I’m fooling myself.
He never cared to begin with - right?
Ignoring the ache in my heart, I slide my eyes closed and
concentrate on the feel of Hayden’s body dancing around mine.
We lose ourselves to the music for a few more songs before he
slides away, but not before whispering in my ear, “If you ever plan to
ditch Theroux, come find me.”
Bewildered, I stare at his retreating back pondering his words
before shaking them off. I don’t need another Colt, and Hayden, for
all his flirting, has many layers I’d be afraid to peel back.
Turning away, I see both Melissa and Colt have gone, and with a
grimace, I search her out, finding her in the kitchen, downing shots.
When the crowd parts and invites me in, I spy Colt standing with
her, and it's with no little hesitation, I give in because not so long
ago, I was lamenting that I was the outsider in this scenario, and
now that I’m invited, I can hardly spurn them.
Dirk gives me a wide grin when I nod and hands me a glass full to
the brim with alcohol. I suspect, much like Melissa and Ramie before
her, he expects me to drink it like a rich bitch Princess.
And apparently, so does Colt because he eyes it disapprovingly
before trying to swipe it from my hand.
Giving him a good glare, I move out of his reach and down the
shot in one go. It’s whiskey, and it goes down harsh, so not the
expensive kind, but I keep my face straight and hold out my hand
for another.
Smiling wide, Dirk grabs the bottle, pouring me another drink,
while Colt swears behind us and ignoring him, I toss back the amber
liquid, hiding my grimace behind a gasp as I slam the shot glass
down on the table.
Dirk chuckles evilly, and a glance at Colt reveals him glowering.
The alcohol burns through my system like fire, and a small smile
curves my lips, to which Colt’s eyes become molten and my core
pulses sharply.
All of which grinds to a screeching halt when Sarah appears
looking fresh and pretty in a tight dress and heels – it’s a little
overdone if you ask me, but plenty of the guys give her a passionate
once over.
With a curl to my lip, I ignore the hatred pulsing in my chest, and
Colt for good measure, grabbing the third shot from Dirk’s hand.
He leans in as I drink it back, whispering, “For a rich bitch, you
take your alcohol well.”
Giving him a sour look, I grab the bottle out of his hand and stalk
away, saying over my shoulder, “You’re a middle-class dick. I
expected you to have better alcohol.”
His laughter follows me from the room, and I spy Sarah standing
in front of Colt as I exit, but I refuse to look further. Whether they’re
together or not, I have no use for the games they like to play.
Her presence is a reminder to stay the fuck away.
Disappearing around the side of the house, I lean against the wall
and sigh. I can’t resist the pull of Colt despite his reprehensible
behavior, which rankles. I need to get my shit together, like pronto.
Absently, I pull my phone from my back pocket when I feel it buzz
against my ass, the letters blurry on the screen because I apparently
tossed back too many.

Be careful how much alcohol you drink, sweet Finn. We wouldn’t

want you to do something stupid

Glancing around with a creepy feeling, I tap out a response to the

unknown number, ice sliding down my spine.

Who is this?
 Ah, my sweet Finn, now we can truly get to know one another. I
believe you refer to me as your...fan

What the fuck? Dropping my phone to my side, I inch toward the

door and peer inside. It’s crowded, but I can see Colt standing at the
counter, Sarah pouting beside him as Dirk pours another round of
shots, and everyone hoots and hollers around them.

Who are you really?

I watch the dots form on the screen and turn to look inside, but
Colt’s not on his phone, and I don’t even see it in view.

As you said, your biggest fan. Stay away from the dick tonight.
You’re mine, sweet Finn. I’m always watching

Shuddering, I glance around again, but I’m against the side of the
house. I can’t see for shit.
With the fine hairs standing at attention on the back of my neck, I
step into the clearing and gaze over the groups scattered
throughout, but none are looking my way.
Some guy has his phone out, and when he looks up and finds me
watching him, he smirks and striding forward with a grim expression,
I slap the phone from his hands.
“What? Bitch!” he exclaims as I pick it up from the ground to read
the screen.
Opening his texts, I find some rather gross pictures of a girl he’s
communicating with but nothing to indicate he was texting me.
Giving him the once over, I stare at him blankly as he shouts
obscenities at me.
“What the fuck! Gimme back my phone.”
“Is there a problem here?” Colt asks icily behind me.
Slapping the phone back in the dick’s hand, I mutter, “Girls like to
be treated as more than a piece of meat.”
“Fuck you,” the guy hollers at me. “Oh, you, fuck off! Where’s your
richie brother? Sucked any dick to be in your dad's good graces?”
 Wincing, I walk away, ignoring the sounds of fists meeting
flesh. Maybe my big reveal had an impact after all.
So, my fan is stepping up his game, and unless Colt got someone
else to do his texting for him, it’s not him. Now what? This is all so
much of a cluster, and I don't know what to believe anymore. I’m
tired. My heart hurts. And, I admit, I’m scared.
When it was Colt doing the stalking, it was brutally cruel, but it
wasn’t dangerous, and if it’s not him, then I still have some
deranged dick out there gunning for me.
Opening my texts back up, I save the unknown number under
creeper and text back.

Fuck you

All I get is silence in return.

Weaving my way back into the house, I find another bottle of
alcohol and proceed to drink myself into oblivion. Somewhere along
the way, I notice in my bleary-eyed state Colt’s ignoring Sarah, and
she’s pouting like a little bitch, and although it pleases me to see the
discord, it doesn’t change the facts.
They’re both sick in the head, and I’m better off staying far away -
thoughts of which hurt my chest, so I continue to drown my woes
until I pass out, waking sometime later to Colt lifting me out of a
group of people.
I’m snuggled between a pudgy freshman and some dude I don’t
recognize, all of whom are wasted and sleeping it off.
“What?” I mumble, brushing my hair out of my face.
My stomach is roiling, and I can feel a headache brewing at the
back of my skull. Lovely, when will I ever learn?
“C’mon,” he mutters, “I’ll take you home.”
“Why,” I mutter petulantly. “Isn’t it enough to leave me to my
misery?”
“Misery?” he asks with an amused glint in his eyes.
Scoffing, I stand and move away from his helpful grip, brushing
off imaginary dust as he chuckles and pushes me toward the door.
“Melissa-“ I start, stumbling before him, but he cuts me off.
 “She’s sleeping it off. I thought you might like to get home before
Maggie,” he says, looking at me pointedly. Um, yeah, good idea.
With a curious detachment, I watch as he gets me situated in his
truck and rounds the hood to get in on his side. I feel utterly
wretched from the alcohol, and the text messages from earlier left
me numb.
I’ve no clue what to do, and I don’t trust anyone but Maggie with
the information. If I could just figure out who it is, maybe that would
help. But even then, if I have no proof, what can I possibly do? Ask
the creeper nicely to stop with the fucking threats? Highly doubtful.
Colt drives home quietly, not so much as sparing me a glance. I’ve
got a severe case of nausea and leaning my head against the
headrest, I hum under my breath, hoping I make it home before it
makes an appearance. Then again, maybe puking in Colt’s truck is
what he deserves.
“What?” Colt asks, glancing my way.
His usually cruel look is absent, in its place a quiet fatigue that
jumpstarts my heart out of numbness and into painful.
“Nothing,” I say, turning away.
I don't need this. I never needed this. Colt, whether he’s
vulnerable or sad, is not my problem.
“Why are you bringing me home, anyway?” I say snarkily.
“Where’s Sarah Bitch Fremont?”
He chuckles, his eyes lighting up, and again, my heart palpitates
in my chest. When he doesn't answer me quickly enough, I keep
going, desperate to see the hostility I’ve come to expect from this
mercurial guy.
“Tired of her already? What's the matter? Did she ask for undying
declarations of love from the fucking tin man?”
His brows slam down around his dark eyes, and I suppress a
victorious smirk, gazing at him wide-eyed while I wait for him to
come at me.
“If I wanted Sarah Fucking Fremont, she’d be here. As it turns
out, I don't. Why? You offering Princess?” he sneers.
Bingo. “Nope, I thought we covered this. I’ve found your way of
thinking to be just what I need. Hate fucks are much more up my
alley.”
“Is that right? And who have you hate fucked recently?” he asks,
silkily.
“Again, this is old news,” I say, praying Hayden doesn’t hate me
for this, “Hayden gets the job done just fine.”
“Princess,” he says darkly, causing a shiver to race down my spine,
“if it’s a job, then he’s not doing it right.”
“Ha!” I exclaim, at a loss for words, every part of me loose and
heated, as liquid fire pulses through my veins.
My body’s telling me in no uncertain terms we want Colt Theroux,
and fighting with him is an aphrodisiac that beats painfully through
me in anticipation of the real thing, but unfortunately, my heart
knows the drill. I’ve been burned enough.
“Tell me,” he says curiously, his face turned toward the windshield,
“when you told the entire group at my birthday party that I was just
like my dad, what did you mean?”
Huh? Tracing my thoughts back to that night, I do remember
spewing as much hateful garbage at him as I could find. I don't
regret it, and it would seem if this sticks out for him, it hit its mark.
Shrugging delicately, I say, “Just what I said. How you treat
women is no different than the guy you hate. Just because you don't
make undying declarations of love,” I sneer, “doesn't mean you’re
not using and abusing them.”
There's a protracted silence before he says between gritted teeth,
“I’m nothing like my father.”
“If you say so,” I shrug.
Pulling his truck to the curb in front of my house abruptly, Colt
turns to me with a glare and grabs my chin, saying heatedly, “I’m
nothing like my piece of shit father. I promised you nothing. I can't
help it if you panted after me like a bitch in heat.”
Smarting, I pull my chin away and glare right back. “Fuck you,
Colt. You played with my emotions in a bid to what? Get back at me?
What’s Daddy doing every day, Colt? Playing with your mom’s
emotions. Shit, he’s even playing with his real wife’s.”
Colt’s face drops to icy cold disdain, and I cringe away
uncomfortably. I’ve never seen this look before, not even when Colt
stood before the whole of our peers and declared he was dumping
me because I was boring in bed.
“Don't mention her, don't ever mention her,” he replies, the air
around us frosty with his anger.
Eyeing him uneasily, I say into the quiet, “Your mom?”
“No, her...rich bitch. She’s a fucking cold-hearted piece of shit.
Never speak of her again.”
He’s so cold, so icy, a shiver races down my spine. Turning away
so he can’t see my unease, I say over my shoulder, “Whatever.”
Exiting the truck, I let myself inside, unarming and rearming the
alarm while he watches from the curb. Although I don't look, I know
he stays long enough to see the light come on in my room, the
rumble of his truck fading after that.
With a raging headache, I drop into bed and clutch my belly,
resigned to another night of purging, damning myself for drinking
too much alcohol.
Fucking Colt and my fan inspire some seriously shitty life choices.
Still, I can’t help but to ponder Colt’s words and his vehemence in
demanding that I never mention his stepmother or whatever she is
again. Why does he hate her so much?
Sighing, I run my hands down my face. I knew he had issues with
his dad and the fucked-up situation, but the sheer hatred in his eyes
at the mention of her makes me wonder how that came about. And
do I care?
Referring to her as rich bitch definitely makes the wheels turn,
though. It’s been a question rolling around in my brain since the first
time he referenced her that way. Can it all be a coincidence?
 Chapter Two
The following week brings much of the same from Colt, although
his icy cold demeanor is back in place, and he mostly ignores me
even if I feel his brooding gaze on me in every class we now share.
I can only assume his attitude is directly related to the mention of
his stepmother and our heated argument. Still, since I know only the
basics of what is a very complicated and sordid relationship, I have
no clue what’s made him angry.
This is only further proof that our relationship was surface only
and another reminder of Colt’s inability to feel.
Colt runs from vulnerability like a child from a rabid dog, which is
to say, he’d rather die than expose himself. I convinced myself our
relationship was too new, and it would take time, but as it turned
out, he wasn’t planning on a relationship at all.
I'm assuming he’s licking his wounds after revealing his complete
hatred of her because he makes sure to go out of his way to be an
ass. This includes flirting with every bitch in heat while looking my
way with a frigid smile.
I ignore it as much as I can, but I’m getting tired of the pretense.
And what happened to Sarah?
I thought she was his girlfriend?
I’m also still avoiding Hayden to his amusement. Just this
morning, he stepped up beside me while I walked down the hall and
said, “You still think I’m the enemy?”
“At this point, I don’t know what to think,” I muttered, “but you
can’t deny that you’ve been friends with Colt for years. Did he even
need me to ask for your number, or did he already have it?”
During our brief sojourn dating, Colt asked me to ask Nate for
Hayden's number, and at that time, I thought nothing of it. Why
would I? But Hayden and Colt seem really fucking cozy every day at
their lunch table, leading me to believe even that was a lie.
 Hayden laughed loudly, and I glared at him. Needless to say, I
didn’t appreciate his amusement.
“I have no idea whether he had my number. I haven’t changed it,
that’s for sure. But rest assured, little fighter, we haven’t been
friends since sophomore year.”
“Is that right?”
“Yep, we had a difference of opinion, you might say,” he snickered.
“Which would be what?”
“Nothing that concerns you. I’m still available if you want to make
him jealous,” Hayden said with a smirk before walking away.
Shaking my head, I headed to my next class, storm clouds
brewing in my aching head.
At lunch, I escape to the library, now avoiding Nate because I’m
dreading the coming discussion and possibly hurting his feelings. I
can’t fucking win with these guys.
Instead, I while away my lunch in the library, lamenting the fact
that I don’t have Teddy to spend it with, and even though we text
back and forth, it's not the same. I miss seeing Teddy’s friendly face
and happy smile.
The week passes uneventfully beyond Colt’s brooding, and I hide
away over the weekend, studying up as best I can and visiting
Mom’s grave.
By Sunday, I’m back at the table with Maggie, eating our
obligatory breakfast together and eyeing her cigarette distastefully.
“Well, kid. How’s the week gone?” she rasps, raising her dark
brow at me.
Maggie’s an older, harsher version of my mom, with hard blue
eyes and dark hair turning grey at the temples. At times I’m
bewildered by the differences between her and my mom, but she’s
grown on me since I came here so unexpectedly.
“It's okay,” I say idly, chewing my eggs quietly.
I’ve not spoken about Colt to her, but she's sure to have noticed
he hasn’t been around. Thankfully, she’s not the type to pry, unlike
Mom, who would’ve already made me a cup of hot chocolate in an
effort to bribe it out of me.
 It's a different sort of existence, but in many ways, Maggie gives
me the comfort I need without knowing it. Perhaps she’s teaching
me how to be independent and strong. Maybe she doesn’t know
how to be any other way. I don't know, but it's working so far
anyway.
“No new notes?” she asks.
“No,” I hesitate, looking up at her through my lashes. “Well, I’ve
gotten a few texts, but I don't know if it's him or not.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she demands, holding out her hand for
my phone.
Shamefaced, I hand it over, explaining, “I don't know. Because I
just want this to be over. Besides, I’m sure whoever sent it from a
phone that can't be traced, meaning there will be nothing the cops
can do.” I end my sentence with a sarcastic lilt, which she doesn’t
appreciate if her stern look is anything to go by.
Scrolling through the messages, she frowns and looks up at me.
“Fuck you? Kid, I don’t think it’s a good idea to enrage the weirdo.
We don’t know what we’re dealing with here. You’re safe with the
alarm, but what about at school? Maybe Colt can keep an eye out?”
Snorting, I slap my hands over my mouth and then laugh and
laugh until tears stream from my eyes. Apparently, I haven’t spent
enough time processing my pain because my reaction is nothing
short of hysterical.
Maggie looks at me like I`ve lost my mind, and maybe I have
because the laughter just won't end.
“Okay, okay, what’s so funny?”
“Nothing,” I gasp, “it's just, Colt’s been my enemy since day one.
He hates me. I don't know why, but with the way he’s acted recently,
I don't think he’d be up for the job.”
She cocks her head to the side, eyeing me for a moment before
saying, “Colt’s had his issues, I’ll bet. It can’t be easy living his life.”
Frowning, I mutter, “It doesn't excuse his behavior.”
She nods, contemplative, “Kid, I shouldn't be telling you this,
but...Colt's home life is different.”
Snorting, I intervene before she can stumble any further, “If you’re
trying to tell me his mom and dad are married even though his dad
is married to someone else, you can save it.”
She raises a brow, “He told you that?”
“Not in so many words,” I mutter. “How is it that you know?”
“Well, Celia and I got drunk on apple wine once, and she spilled
the beans.”
“Oh.”
“Anyway, he found out the hard way, a couple of years ago about
his dad’s first wife. He’s been a bit out of control since.”
So, Colt didn’t know his whole life? I’m not sure which is worse,
being lied to or knowing the entire time. He’s close to his mother,
too - this must have torn him up but good. Still, I have to stay the
course, he’s a dick, and I have to remember that.
“Out of control - how?” I ask curiously.
“Well, per Celia, he gets in fights at school, runs around with the
bad kids. Refuses to have anything to do with his dad, not that I
blame him,” she says with a sour expression.
“Yes, well, it doesn't excuse his behavior. He’s been really cruel to
me, just, not nice, and I’d prefer to leave him out of this.”
She nods slowly, and the talk turns away from Colt, but I can't
help my circling thoughts the rest of the day, wondering how he
initially took the news. It must have been devastating to learn your
entire life is a lie.
Somehow Buck must’ve known because I found the pictures of
Buck and Celia together. Does this mean the first wife knows? And if
so, did Colt meet her? It would explain his violent reaction to the
mention of her the other night.

*****
Later that day, I meet up with Teddy beaming when I see his
cherubic face through the coffee shop window.
His pretty jade-colored eyes meet mine, so like his sister Ramie’s,
as he greets me, “Finn!”
Clutching my coffee, I sit opposite him with a happy smile. “Oh my
god, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you!”
“I know! Spill,” he says.
 “Spill what?” I laugh.
“Start with prom. Was that you?”
Flushing, I smile sheepishly, “Well…”
After walking through the events of prom, skating over the stalker
issue, I finally cave. If I can’t trust Teddy, who can I trust?
“Teddy,” I say.
Sensing my hesitation, he cocks his head to the side and smiles at
me softly.
“I have something to tell you. Um…”
“What is it?” he asks, his smile fading to concern.
“Remember the notes I mentioned before?”
“Yeah, I haven’t heard anything out of the ordinary, by the way.”
“Oh,” I say with a pulse of disappointment.
I finally told him about the notes just after I transferred. Call it
pride, but I didn’t want him to think I left North because of Colt. I
skated over the details, though, because I just want a normal
relationship with Teddy that doesn’t include all the bullshit I’m
constantly fighting.
“You seem really worried. What’s going on?”
“Well, I kind of didn’t tell you everything about the notes. They're
more threatening than I let on.”
“What! How Finn?”
“It’s hard to explain. I’ve been getting weird notes about how
whoever and I were meant to be together. And other weird stuff, like
dead animals.”
“Oh shit, that’s scary,” he exclaims.
“I know,” I exhale, “I thought it was Colt. I saw some stuff that
made me think it’s him. But now I don’t know, and I’m scared,
Teddy.”
“Oh, Finn, I’m so sorry. What can I do?”
“Just keep your ears open. Surely the creep is saying something to
someone!” I exclaim. “Whoever is doing this, they have to be acting
weird, right? Fuck, I don’t know.”
“What made you think it’s Colt?”
“I think whoever it is, he approached me the night before prom,
and he dropped something that I recognized, but Colt denies it was
him, and I got a few texts. It’s all so confusing,” I say, running my
hand over my forehead, fighting back tears.
“Oh Finn, I wish I could do more, but we’ll figure this out. Maybe
we just need to start with what we do know?”
“Which is what?”
“Tell me everything you’ve received. When and where you got
them, and we’ll try to eliminate people based on that.”
“Teddy, you’re a genius!”
He flushes under my admiration, and we set about writing it all
down, and although we’re no closer by the time we leave, I feel
better with a direction.
Unfortunately, the notes were left on my desk, and I don’t always
remember the exact dates, but Teddy promises to see if he can find
out if any students were absent during the times I do remember.
Still, it could be anyone, even someone I don’t really know, although
I have my doubts because the fucker knows more about me and my
actions than he should.

*****
I shuffle to school Monday morning grumpily, no closer to finding
closure with what I found out about Colt. I need to be able to shut
off every speck of feeling I have for the gorgeous asshat, but with
each new revelation, it gets harder and harder.
It doesn’t change the face of his cruelty, but it does a better job of
explaining it. Did he hate me because of her? His rich bitch
stepmother? And if so, why? What did she do to him? Frankly, she’s
just as much a victim of Colt’s dad's machinations as his own
mother, but I know he doesn't see it that way.
Learning your whole life is a lie after years of living it, couldn’t
have been easy, and although it’s foolish, I still feel bad about how
he received the news. I’m curious how he learned the truth and why
he seems to hate Buck so much.
It’s all downright sordid, which makes my emotions all the more
confusing.
 When I realize Colt’s absent, I can’t decide if I’m relieved or sad,
and when the following three days fly by with no sight of him, I start
to wonder if he’s back at North. Perhaps he gave up and in. Perhaps,
his vendetta is finally over. You’d think I would be relieved, but no,
I’m fucking devastated. Why? Because I’m fucked in the head.
Having Colt come after me meant I was still in his head, and if
he’s given up, then I’ll be nothing more than a footnote soon. Gah. I
need serious counseling.
By Friday, I’m moping, and I’ve ignored everyone in favor of being
alone.
Walking to my car absently, I miss Nate standing beside it until
he’s right on top of me.
“Hey, pretty girl,” he greets me cheerfully.
I smile halfheartedly, my stomach sinking at his eager expression.
Here it comes. He’s going to ask me out or something equally
wrong, and I’m going to have to let him down again. This time, he
may not be so understanding, and I guess I can hardly blame him. I
used him to get to Colt at prom, and he, I’m sure, misread every
single one of my signals.
“Hey,” I whisper, waiting for the bomb to drop. But I’m saved,
literally when Hayden intervenes, stepping between Nate and me to
say, “Where are you off to, little Finn? I thought we had plans?”
Staring at him with confusion, I blink and flush under his stare as
he winks at me slowly. Turning my gaze back to Nate, I spy a look of
sheer hatred on his face for Hayden before he turns back to me with
an angry look and mutters, “See you around.”
Staring at his back helplessly, a little disturbed by his rancor, I turn
to Hayden and say with narrowed eyes, “What was that for?”
“Just looking out for my homeboy, Colt,” he smirks, leaning
against my car.
“Your homeboy,” I sputter, “What does that even mean?”
“Just giving him time to come around, he will eventually. He just
needs a nudge now and then.”
“Hayden, if this is some misplaced attempt to play matchmaker,
I’ma kick your ass. Colt is not my Prince Charming. We’re not gonna
be together. This isn’t some weird, twisted version of a romance
novel.”
He chuckles, looking over his shoulder, and, with dread, I spin my
head around, meeting Colt’s steely gaze. “No romance, Baby? I’m
hurt. I thought I gave you all the romance you needed.”
With no little sarcasm, I say, opening my car door and nudging a
laughing Hayden out of my way, “Romance, Colt? Yeah, I think that’s
right up there with I love you. Feeling the heat yet? Run away like
the cowardly little ass you are, hm?”
I’m seething, so when Colt’s brows lower over his eyes in a
matching response, all I feel is triumph. Fuck you, Colt. And fuck
you, Hayden.
I’ve calmed down by the time I get home, and I refuse to
acknowledge the excitement I feel that Colt was back on campus
today.

*****
Melissa and I go to the beach on Saturday, bringing a few drinks
and a blanket to while away the day. It's still cold, so we’re not
swimming, but it’s nice to sit by the waves and chat.
She’s surprisingly deep, and I enjoy our time when no one else is
around to inspire her prickly exterior. Although we’ve only touched
on the subject of her home life, much like everyone else, there’s
plenty of dysfunction to choose from, which makes you wonder if
anyone has a normal life.
When she was deep down into the alcohol at the last party, she let
slip that her mom is dying from cancer. I’ve been afraid to bring it up
since because she shut down as soon as she said it, but my heart
aches for the pain she must be experiencing. The death of a parent
changes you forever. I should know. I still felt the ache in my soul
when the remembrance caught up with me.
“So, have you thought about what I owe you?” I ask, slurping on
a whiskey and coke, heavy on the whiskey. I swear this bitch is
intent on getting me drunk whenever I’m around her.
 She glances my way, lowering her glasses and glowering at me.
Once upon a time, that look would’ve made me shit my pants, now I
just smile at her sweetly.
“Not really. You got a lot of money or something?”
“Seriously?” I guffaw, “Everyone’s been calling me rich bitch for
months. What do you think?”
“Humph, just because that’s what people say doesn't mean it's
true,” she grumbles.
“Yeah, I guess that’s true. But yes, I have some money. Most is
tied up in a trust until I turn eighteen anyway. But I meant what I
said. Whatever you want, it's yours,” I say firmly.
She nods slowly and looks away before looking back with a
hesitant expression, “Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure,” I quip, although I’m already dreading what’s next based on
her look. She’s not usually reticent about saying what’s on her mind,
so it must be bad.
“I heard, um, about your dad. You were there? When it
happened?”
“Hm,” I say, turning away to hide my sour expression.
This is not where I thought this conversation was going. Frankly,
I’d take her trying to kick my ass again over this, but Melissa’s been
nothing but honest with me. I owe it to her to be the same.
“Well, yes. I was.”
“Will you tell me? What happened?”
With a blank stare, I process her request. Can I do this? Do I want
to?
After a protracted silence, she shifts uncomfortably, and I cut her
off when she opens her mouth with an apology in her eyes.
“Okay,” I whisper, catching my breath at the pain pulsing in my
chest.
“It was a bad day. Just, you know, one of those days that’s off. I
don't know. I came home, and the house was so quiet, so empty. I
couldn't find my mom anywhere. Finally, I gave up and went to my
room, assuming she went to the store or something. It wasn't until
hours later when I heard screaming startup, that I realized they
were both home. While I sat in my room and scrolled through social
media, gossiping with my friends via text, he had her tied to their
bed. He - he raped her. Over and over.”
Clearing my throat, I run my hand over my sternum, where the
familiar ache from that day forms every time I recall the events. “I
can still hear her screams. They came out of nowhere and scared
the shit out of me. He had released her from the bed, and when she
tried to run, he pushed her down the stairs. Once at the bottom, he
started pounding on her again.”
Taking a deep breath, I continue, “I came down the stairs slowly,
scared, you know. When I got to the bottom, I found...I saw...she
was lying on the floor surrounded by blood. And he was sitting on
top of her pounding on her over and over.”
Sadly, I look into Melissa’s horrified gaze and grimace, “I must’ve
made a sound. I don't know because they both looked up at the
same time. She said something I couldn't make out, and he sprang
from her, coming toward me. I tried to run, to get away, but he
grabbed my leg from the bottom of the stairs and pulled me down.”
Shuddering, I take a breath of air, my lungs constricting under the
weight of the fear I felt when he towered over me.
“He raged at me about her, always about her before shoving me
against the wall and telling me not to move. And I didn’t. I was
frozen. I couldn't move. I didn’t move. Not when he punched her a
few more times. Not when he left her on the floor, covered in her
own blood, her face, her pretty face mashed in. Not even when he
brought back the biggest knife I’ve ever seen and stabbed her, over
and over and over.”
I trail off after that, wiping away the tear that escapes my eye. I’ll
never forget how she stared at me, begging me to run—begging me
to help, begging me. I’ll never know what she wanted because he
made me sit there and watch as the life bled out of her until the last
twitch of her body stilled. And then, he crouched before me and told
me to run. And I did.
Other than the testimony against him, I haven’t told a single soul
what happened, and the ache in my chest tells me it might have
been too soon, but my stomach is blessedly free of the nausea that
used to be there. Maybe I’m making progress after all.
Another random document with
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 Part III

SIEGFRIED

Motif of Mime’s Meditation

[Listen] [MusicXML]

PRELUDE

When Sieglinde ran into the woods with the pieces of the broken
sword, Nothung, she took shelter in a cave where a wicked old dwarf
lived alone. There a little boy was born. But Sieglinde had never
thoroughly recovered from the shock of her husband’s death. The
way through the woods had been difficult, and she had endured
great hardships; so one day she called the Dwarf to her and gave
him the broken sword, telling him to keep it for her son until he grew
old enough to have a weapon of his own, and she told the Dwarf that
she was Sieglinde, and that her husband had been Siegmund, the
Volsung, and she finally said that she wanted the child to be named
Siegfried; then she sank back and died. And so Siegfried, who was a
very little baby then, never, really, saw either his father or mother.
The only father he knew, as he grew older, was the Dwarf, who was
none other than Mime, Alberich’s half-brother. And he could not help
knowing that Mime was wicked and sly, though the Dwarf pretended
to love his foster-son, and tried to arouse some love in return.
Now, perhaps, you wonder, if Mime was so wicked, why he took care
of the boy. I will tell you.
Mime, like every one else, wanted the Rhinegold, and could not get
it, for Fafner, the Dragon, guarded it by night and day at Hate Hole.
And being as sly and evil-minded as the rest of the Nibelungs, he
had concocted a plot by which he thought he could obtain it. He
hoped Siegfried, when he grew older, would slay Fafner with the
sword Nothung, and win the Rhinegold. You see he hoped to
accomplish Fafner’s death through Siegfried, just as Wotan had
once tried to do through Siegmund. Only, after Siegfried had attained
the Gold, Mime hoped to be able to poison him and steal from him
the treasure.
But, to accomplish this, the broken sword must be mended, and this
Mime could not do. Its splintered edges baffled even him—clever
smith as he was. So he set to work forging other swords, and trying
to fashion a blade keen enough to satisfy the boy-Volsung, and also
to kill the Dragon at Hate Hole. But every weapon he made Siegfried
broke into pieces, and demanded a stronger and still stronger sword,
until Mime was in despair.
It angered him terribly, too, that Siegfried, more by instinct than
anything else, knew how wicked his heart was, and how full of bad,
cruel thoughts. The little, dark Nibelung could not understand how
the boy, beautiful as the sun, golden-haired and keen-eyed, strong of
limb and true of heart, loved to roam in the wide forests all the day,
merrily blowing his silver horn and making friends with the woodland
creatures, only returning to Mime’s cave at night. He could not
realize the pleasure that the soft forest voices gave to the youth just
growing into manhood; how he loved the wolves and bears better
than the cringing, evil-eyed, horrible little Dwarf in the cave at home
—the only home he knew.
As for Siegfried, the only thing he wondered at was that he ever went
back to the cave at all. Why did he not roam away forever into the
forest, search out that far, strange place called the world, that really
seemed as if it must be a different universe from the one in which he
lived? He could not tell. He only knew that a strange, irresistible
something seemed to draw him back to Mime’s side every night—a
something he could not explain or even understand. Meanwhile time
passed.

Motif of Forest Life, sometimes called Motif of Love Life

[Listen] [MusicXML]
 Motif of the Forging of Nothung
“Nothung! Nothung! Notable Sword!”
[Listen] [MusicXML]

CHAPTER I

SIEGFRIED AND MIME

The cave was a dark one, but it was not altogether a bad place in
which to live. It was as lofty as a stately cathedral, and the Dwarf’s
forge, built on one side, lent a fitful red light and a little warmth to the
dim, cold atmosphere. Skins of animals gave it a semblance of
comfort; and, indeed, to a wild creature like Siegfried, it would have
been a most desirable home had it not been for the continual
presence of Mime. On the day on which I will open my story, Mime
was sitting on a low stool trying to fashion a sword which would not
break in the hands of the impetuous young Volsung, who, at that
particular moment, was, as usual, out in the woods with his friends,
the wild beasts. As he hammered, Mime grumbled crossly because
he had to work forever with swords that seemed of no use to the
crazy boy, who insisted on smashing them all, and racing off to the
woods, merely demanding as he went a better and a stronger
weapon.
“There is a blade that he could not break,” muttered the Nibelung, as
he worked. “Nothung he would find firm in his hands, but I cannot
weld the splinters. Ah! if I could, I should be well repaid.” He paused,
and then went on, mysteriously murmuring to himself:
“Fafner, the great, wicked worm! Well guards he the Rhinegold. Only
Siegfried can overthrow him. This can only be done by Nothung, I
feel sure. And, alas! I cannot shape Nothung, the sword.”
He began to hammer once more, grumbling continually because
Siegfried insisted that he should make swords, and snarling with
rage because every weapon he forged fell to pieces in the boy’s
strong hands.
Suddenly, from without, came a clear, merry voice, shouting a blithe
“Hoyho!” and the next moment in came Siegfried himself, leading a
great bear, which he had harnessed with a bit of rope.
“Ask the foolish smith if he has finished the sword, Bruin!” he cried to
the bear, and, holding back the great creature firmly, he pretended to
chase Mime, who, springing behind the anvil, cried, savagely:
“Take him away! I don’t want the bear! I have done my best with your
sword.”
“Good!” laughed the boy. “Good-bye, Bruin; run away,” and he freed
the great creature, sending him lumbering off into the woods again.
Then, turning to the trembling Nibelung, he again asked for the
sword, and Mime handed it to him. The young Volsung took it into his
hands quickly, scorn on his handsome face and anger in his eyes.
He was dressed in a wild forest costume of wolf-skins, and his yellow
hair curled over his shoulders. He, indeed, made a great contrast to
Mime, and one could not wonder that they did not get on well
together.
“What a toy!” he cried out. “Do you call this a sword?” and, striking it
on the anvil, he broke the blade into a hundred slivers, and then
burst into a rage with the smith, who had pretended to give him a
sword fit for battle, and had shaped him so foolish a switch, as he
called it. And finally, thoroughly out of breath, he flung himself upon
the stone couch at one side, and not all Mime’s coaxings could
appease his anger. He finally confessed that he did not know why he
ever returned to the cave, because, he said frankly, he could not
help detesting the Dwarf, and was much happier when away from
him. And then he broke into a passionate description of the wood-life
he loved so well; the mating of the birds in the spring-time, and the
way they loved and helped each other; the care that the mother deer
lavished upon her little ones; the tenderness among all the forest
creatures that seemed so beautiful and mysterious to him.
“I learned watching them,” said Siegfried, almost sorrowfully, “what
love must be. Mime, where is she whom I may call mother?”
“Nonsense!” said Mime, and tried to draw Siegfried’s mind away
from the dangerous topic; for he had never told him anything about
his parents, always calling him his own son. And he feared the boy’s
anger if he should ever know that he had been deceived.
But, thoroughly aroused, the young Volsung fiercely demanded the
names of his father and mother, declaring that he was far too unlike
Mime to be his son. At last the Nibelung confessed the truth, and told
him the story of his mother’s death, and of how she had left her child
in his care. And, when the boy asked for proof, he slowly crept away,
to return with the broken sword Nothung, the mending of which was
so hard a riddle even to his sly brain.
Wildly excited, Siegfried commanded him to work at it anew and do
his best to weld the pieces; and, with a shout of delight and hope, he
went merrily away into the woods, leaving Mime in saddest, deepest
perplexity.
Despairing, he murmured at the hopelessness of the task, which his
rather unruly young charge had set him, and was sitting, a picture of
discouragement and misery, when from the dark woods came a
stranger clad as a wanderer, and bearing a great spear. He
advanced to the door of the cave and asked in slow, grave tones for
rest and shelter. Mime was at first frightened, then angry, and finally
refused to harbor the strange guest, until the Wanderer made the
following proposal: Mime was to ask him three questions, and if they
were not correctly answered the host should have the privilege of
cutting off his guest’s head. To this Mime consented, and, after a
little thought, thus chose his first question:
“Tell me what is the race down in the earth’s depths?”
And the Wanderer made answer: “In the earth’s depths dwell the
Nibelungs. Nibelheim is their land. Once they were ruled by Black
Alberich, who owned a magic Ring by which he possessed untold
wealth. What is the next question?”
Again Mime pondered.
“Now, Wanderer, since you know so much of the earth’s depths,” he
said, “tell me what is the race that dwells upon its surface?”
“The giants dwell upon its surface. Two of them, Fasolt and Fafner,
fought for Black Alberich’s hoard. Fafner guards it now as a dragon.
Put your third question!”
“What race dwells in the sky above?” demanded Mime.
And the Wanderer answered, majestically:
“The gods dwell above in Walhalla. Their King is Wotan, who owns a
spear made of the World-Ash. With that spear he rules the world.”
And, as he spoke, Wotan, the Wanderer, struck the earth with the
haft he held, and a peal of thunder crashed suddenly out upon the
silence.
As Mime cowered, terror-stricken, recognizing his guest, the
Wanderer again spoke.
He said it was only fair that he should have the same right he had
given to Mime, and declared that he should ask three questions with
the privilege of cutting off the Nibelung’s head if they were not
answered aright.
“Tell me, O Dwarf,” he began, “what was that race which Wotan
loved, and yet treated harshly?”
“The Volsungs,” answered Mime, partially recovering from his terror.
“Siegmund and Sieglinde were descended from the race. Siegfried is
their son—the strongest Volsung who ever lived.”
“Well answered!” said the Wanderer. “Now listen and reply! A sly
Nibelung watches Siegfried, knowing that he is fated to kill Fafner,
the Dragon. What sword must he use to kill him?”
“Nothung!” cried Mime, eagerly. “Nothung is the name of the sword.
Siegmund once drew it from a great tree. It was broken by the spear
of Wotan. Now a clever smith”—and he rubbed his hands gleefully
—“understands all this, and he hoards well the splinters, knowing
that with these alone can Siegfried kill the Dragon.”
The Wanderer burst out into laughter.
“But who will mend the sword?” he asked.
Mime sprang to his feet in despair, filled with terror and rage; for that
was the one question he could not answer—that was his riddle, his
everlasting mystery.
Quietly Wotan rose from the hearth where he had been sitting.
“I gave you three chances to ask me the question which I have now
asked you. Foolishly, you let them all slip by. Listen while I answer it!
Only he who has never felt fear can forge Nothung anew.”
He strode to the door of the cave, and there paused, looking back.
“Guard well your head, O Dwarf! I leave it to him who knows not
fear.”
Smiling quietly, the Wanderer disappeared in the wood’s depths, and
thunder and lightning followed him as he went.
Mime was left—puzzled, despairing, terror-stricken. His vivid
imagination began to conjure up before him visions of Fafner, the
Dragon, and he had fallen behind the anvil, so great was his fear,
when Siegfried came hastily in, asking once more for the sword.
Mime, creeping out from behind the anvil, could not at once collect
his scattered wits, and merely muttered:
“Only he who has never felt fear can forge Nothung anew. My wits
are too wise for that job.”
Finally, as Siegfried demanded why he had not worked at the sword,
he said, slowly:
“I was fearing for your sake.”
“Fearing!” said Siegfried. “What do you mean by fearing?”
Mime described the tremblings, shudderings, and quakings aroused
by fear, and Siegfried remarked, as he finished:
“All that must seem very queer. I rather think I should like to feel all
that—but how shall I learn?”
Mime, delighted, told him of Fafner, and said that the Dragon would
teach him, or any one else, the art of fearing, and ended by
promising to lead him to Hate Hole the next day.
“Does the world lie that way?” asked the boy.
“To Hate Hole it is close at hand,” responded the wicked little
Nibelung, beginning to feel rapture glow in his heart.
But, when Siegfried again demanded the sword, the smith fell once
more into despair, wailing that he could not shape it, that only one
who knew not fear could forge it anew.
Straight to the hearth sprang the strong young Volsung with the
splinters of Nothung.
“My father’s blade will I forge!” he cried; and he began to move about
merrily, brightening the fire and hunting for the file with which to work
on the broken blade.
Mime watched him with wondering eyes. So swiftly and well did he
work that even the clever smith could not understand. And, as he
dragged at the rope of the bellows and blew up the fire in the forge,
this is the song that Siegfried sang:

“Nothung, Nothung, notable sword!

Who did thy bright steel shiver?
To shreds I have shattered the noble blade,
 In the pot I shall melt each sliver.

“Oho, oho, aha, aha, oho!

Bellows blow,
Brighten the glow!

“Far in the woodlands wild and fair,

’Mid the thickets, a tree felled I;
I have burned the brown ash into coal,
On the hearth I have piled it high.

“Oho, oho, aha, aha, oho!

Bellows blow,
Brighten the glow!

“The coal from the tree how bravely it flames!

The fire how fierce to see!
It sends its wild sparks scattering far,
And the steel shreds it smelts for me.

“Oho, oho, aha, aha, oho!

Bellows blow,
Brighten the glow!”
 SIEGFRIED AT THE FORGE

Meanwhile Mime was busy about something, too. He was preparing

a poison for Siegfried, which he did not intend to give him until after
he had slain the Dragon. Round, round the cave capered the Dwarf,
filled with delight at the pleasant prospect he saw before him.
At last the sword was finished, and Siegfried fitted it into its handle. It
was mended anew.
Waving it aloft, he broke into a new verse of his song:

“Nothung, Nothung, new and young!

I have given thee life and might!
Dead and desolate hast thou lain,
Now leapest thou fearless and bright.
Show now thy sheen to the cowards all,
Shatter deceit, and on falsehood fall.”

He sprang to the anvil and swung the blade high in the air.
“See, Mime, so serves Siegfried’s sword!” he shouted, exultantly.
Down came the flashing steel, and the anvil was shattered in pieces.
Mime sank to the ground in terror, but, holding his father’s sword
above his head, and filled with absolute joy and triumph, stood
young Siegfried—he who had never felt fear, and who had forged
Nothung anew.
 Siegfried Motif
[Listen] [MusicXML]

Motif of the Niebelungs’ Hate

[Listen] [MusicXML]
 Siegfried’s Horn-call
[Listen] [MusicXML]

CHAPTER II

HATE HOLE
To Hate Hole, in the dark time before dawn, came the Wanderer,
and found Alberich waiting and watching near the entrance. The
Dwarf was fearfully enraged at the sight of the old god, whom he
hated with all the strength of his wicked Nibelung soul. He burst into
a torrent of abuse and anger as Wotan drew near, speaking of the
broken promise of the giants and the deceit by which the Gold had
been obtained from the Nibelungs, and again threatening the
downfall of the gods when the Ring should come back to his hands.
The Wanderer answered quietly that a hero was even then drawing
near through the woods—a hero fated to kill Fafner and obtain the
Gold; and, with hidden sarcasm, he bade the Dwarf attempt to use
the youth for his own ends.
The King God believed in the workings of Fate. The Norns wove
continually, and all that they wove came to pass. No one could
change the histories wound into their golden cord, until the Dusk of
the Gods had come, when they also would, in the Last Twilight, be
gone forever. So, feeling as he did, it mattered very little whom he
aided, whom he harmed. He even went so far as to arouse Fafner
for Alberich, and ask him to give the Dwarf the Ring. The old Dragon
snarled and yawned and went to sleep again. The Wanderer turned
to the Nibelung, with a great laugh.
“Listen!” he said. “Remember, O Alberich, what I say. All things work
in nature’s course. You can alter nothing.”
And, so saying, he vanished in the dark woods, and a faint, pale
flicker of lightning shot through the forest as he went. Alberich crept
hastily into a crevice in the rocks on one side, and the dawn broke
just as two figures came into the little green glade by Hate Hole.
The figures were those of Siegfried and Mime; for the Nibelung, true
to his word, had led the boy to the place where he was to learn to
fear.
“If you do not hastily discover fear here, my dear boy, you never will
anywhere,” said the Dwarf, with a chuckle. And he described at great
length the means which Fafner would use to teach the art, saying
that the Dragon’s breath was fire, and his twisting tail strong enough
to crush any hero. But Siegfried merely laughed, and said that he
would find the great worm’s heart and strike Nothung into that; and
then he bade Mime be gone. The Nibelung crept away out of sight
among the trees, and as he went he muttered, in an exasperated
undertone:
“Fafner and Siegfried! Siegfried and Fafner! Oh, that each might kill
the other!”
The boy, left alone, sat under a linden-tree, looking up through the
branches. At first Mime’s figure pervaded his brain, and he could not
help remembering the horrible little creature. But, after a while,
thoughts of his mother crept in—very vague and formless thoughts—
for this forest youth had never in his life seen a woman. Leaning
back, he gave himself up to the enchantment of the summer-day,
dreaming boyish dreams, and listening to the forest voices all around
him.
Have you ever sat in a great, green wood and watched the soft
flickering shadows from the little leaves overhead dance back and
forth on the moss? Have you heard the great surge of music made of
a thousand tiny sounds, the hum of little, unseen insects, the ripple
of far-away brooks, the faint sigh of the wind in the tall reeds, the
rustling of the trees, the melodies that seemed made by the touch of
some master-hand on a great harp? That was what Siegfried saw
and heard that summer day when he lay under the linden-tree and
dreamed day-dreams.
After a while a little bird began to sing in the tree above him, and
after listening for a moment, and wondering whether it brought him a
message from his mother, he resolved to try to imitate it,
remembering that Mime had once said that some people were able
to talk with the birds. So he fashioned a flute out of a reed and tried
to play upon it the melody that the bird sang. Finally, however, he
gave it up in despair, and instead, as he began to feel lonely, he blew
a loud blast on his horn—to bring him a friend, he said to himself.
 THE DEATH OF THE DRAGON

And what sort of a friend do you think it brought him?

Well, it waked Fafner, the monster worm; and he dragged his huge
scaly body to the door of the cave and peered out, and you may
fancy like what sort of a friend he looked.
Siegfried burst out into laughter when he saw him.
“At last!” he cried, merrily. “My call has brought me something truly
lovely!”
“What is that?” growled Fafner, glaring at him as though he were a
small insect of some sort.
“Hey! You can talk, can you?” cried Siegfried. “Being so wise, you
should be able to teach me how to fear. I have come for that.”
Fafner laughed, and showed his teeth, bidding the boy come and be
eaten.
“I come, growler!” said the young Volsung; and, drawing his sword,
he sprang boldly at the great, hideous creature at the cave’s
opening. Fafner reared to receive him, and the combat began. It was
fierce, but not very long, for the boy was strong and Nothung was
sharp, and soon Alberich’s spell had again worked its misery; and,
indeed, it could be said of the dying Dragon that his death was sad—
his life had been a failure.
Before he died he told Siegfried to beware of Mime, and then spoke
slowly and sadly of the race of giants that had come to an end.
“Siegfried,” he began once more—but he never finished, poor old
Dragon; for, just at the word, he rolled over and died. And that was
the end of the race of giants.
Stooping down, the young warrior drew his sword from out the
Dragon’s heart. In so doing, a drop of blood fell on his hand. It
burned like the cruellest fire. He raised it quickly to his mouth to
relieve the smarting; and, as the blood touched his lips, a strange
thing happened—he could understand the language of birds. Yes, as
the same little singer that he had heard before began to twitter, he
could understand what it was saying to him.
“Hey! Siegfried will have now the Nibelung’s hoard! He will find the
hoard in the hole. The Tarnhelm would aid him through wonderful
deeds; but the Ring would give him might over the world.”
With a laugh and a word of thanks to the little singer, the boy
stepped into the cave to look for the treasure. At the same minute
Mime crept near from behind the clump of bushes. Alberich sprang
out from his rocky crevice, and the two little Nibelungs met, snarling,
capering, and making faces with rage.
Each claimed the Ring, and called the other names, and each
proved himself a marvel in wickedness and greed, and they were
nearing a point when blows were not far off when the hero himself
stepped out from the cave with the Tarnhelm thrust into his belt, and
the Rhinegold Ring upon his finger. The dwarfs hastened out of
sight.
The heaped-up hoard of the Nibelungs, Siegfried had left, for he
knew little of its use, and he cared nothing for wealth. Indeed, both
Helm and Ring he had taken only because the bird had so advised
him. He could not fancy what good either of them would do him.
“Hey! Siegfried has now the Helm and the Ring!” sang the wood-bird
in the tree. “Trust not in Mime! The Dragon’s blood will tell Siegfried
what the treacherous Dwarf really means.”
At this point, Mime himself appeared, smiling and bowing, and
holding in his hands a horn of wine for Siegfried. He said that it
would refresh the boy after his labors, but we know that it was
poisoned. Thanks to the Dragon’s blood, Siegfried knew it too, and
read all the cruel thoughts that were passing through Mime’s brain,
and, in a burst of anger, he finally raised his sword and killed the
treacherous Dwarf with one blow.
So that was the end of the Nibelung Mime, the cleverest smith, they
say, that ever lived in the world—even though he could not fashion
Nothung, the sword. From a black crevice in the rocks came
Alberich’s laugh, loud and mocking—the echo of his own wicked
thoughts.
Siegfried turned away wearily, and, seating himself under the linden,
listened for the bird’s song again. As it did not come at once, he
looked up into the branches and spoke:
“You seem very happy, flying among your brothers and sisters,
birdie. But I am all alone. I have no brothers nor sisters, and my
father and mother are both dead. Tell me where I may find a loving
friend. I have called one so often, but none ever comes.” He sighed.
“Sing now, sing,” he begged; and again the bird’s twitter sounded
from among the leaves above him.
“Hey! Siegfried has slain now the wicked Dwarf. I know where he’ll
find a glorious bride. On a rock she sleeps amid fire. If he passed
through the blaze and awakened her, Brünnhilde would then be his.”
Wild with excitement and joy, Siegfried sprang to his feet and asked
if he would really be able to do this.
“Brünnhilde is won only by him who knows not fear,” said the wood-
bird, and flew off before him, guiding him through the woods.
In a transport of joy Siegfried followed, and, shouting with delight, he
began his journey to the far-away rock in its circle of flame, where
the Walküre, in her long penance of sleep, waited for the hero brave
enough to pass through the fire and awaken her.