Reading Dante's Divine Comedy and learning about the multiple circles of Hell was only a slight distraction from the fact that I still had to wait over seventy-two hours for the most exciting concert of my entire life. 

At least I had the diversion of reading about Dante's interpretation of forbidden love to keep me occupied.

"While in Hell, Dante encounters Francesca who fell in love with her husband's older brother.  She says to him, 'the double grief of a lost bliss is to recall its happy hour in pain.'  What do you think this quote is talking about?  Ivy?"

"I think it means that it hurts worse to remember the good times when you're in pain because it shows you just how much you've lost."

"Excellent.  So, since Francesca landed herself in Hell for the carnal sin of having an affair with her husband's forbidden older brother, she is suffering, and suffering doubly because she is remembering the love and happiness she felt on earth while being tortured for all eternity."

"Kind of a steep price to pay for true love," Isaac said from the seat beside me. 

Constance wasn't in our advanced world literature class, but Isaac had always shared his love of creative writing with me.  It was one of the things that had bonded us together as kids in school.

"Not in this time period.  But for today's standards, of course.  Women were harshly persecuted for their lust, but in Dante's work, her lover was also punished in Hell with her as the two suffered by being caught in an eternal wind that sweeps them away much like their passions swept them up in their lives on earth.  In this, the two were both punished equally."

"Didn't her husband catch them in the act and murder both of them?"

"Yes Caleb, that's right.  Glad you're reading the material this time," our professor said cheekily as Caleb Brentwood, notorious for skipping the readings and just doing the SparkNotes of our assignments smiled broadly at him. 

I sunk lower into my seat as his eyes flicked over to me, like he was using some kind of weird form of manipulation on me.  

So you did the reading?  Who cares.

"Well, this chapter was pretty interesting to me.  You know—since it was all about lust and passion."

A few of his friends laughed beside him, all of them being football players just like him. 

"I'm sure this Canto was very interesting to you, Mr. Brentwood.  What else did you find about this particular Canto that you enjoyed?"

I liked that our professor didn't let him get away with calling them chapters and used the proper name for the sections that the writer divided up his work with. 

Caleb's dark eyes snapped to me once more and I could feel the laser imprint of his stare staining itself onto my skin.  This was my absolute least favorite thing about sharing a class with my ex-boyfriend.  At least he was on the other side of the room. 

And at least I got to sit beside Isaac, so it negated the more unsavory aspects of the class—like having to deal with Caleb Brentwood in any way, shape, or form.

Freshman year was filled with many mistakes, but the biggest of them all were in the form of a rugged football player who'd taken my virginity and smashed my heart to pieces for the entire school to see.

My dark red hair fell in a sheet over my eyes to keep him from seeing me completely, but it didn't matter.  He knew how much he affected me, no matter the fact that I didn't want him to. 

"Yeah, I think I remember a part where she says that her husband is going to Hell too for what he did to her and his older brother.  I think it's kinda poetic that they're all getting punished for the decisions of one woman."

I didn't have to look to know that Caleb was staring directly at me.  Again. 

"I'm not sure I understand your line of thinking there, Caleb.  Both Francesca and Paolo decided to commit adultery, and Francesca threw herself in front of her husband's sword to save her lover from his brother's rage.  In the end, it didn't matter and he killed his brother, as well.  It wasn't just Francesca's decision to commit adultery—it was Paolo's too."

Caleb didn't answer Isaac's rebuttal as our professor spoke. 

"Interesting discussion, guys.  I'll leave you with this question—were the crimes committed in Dante's Divine Comedy worthy of eternal suffering as outlined in the Cantos?  Your assignment will be a response question in your inbox, due next Wednesday.  That's all for today."

I had rocketed up out of my seat and smiled to myself as I realized I'd have time to go and change before heading to my meeting with Mr. Cartwright.  

I'd barely made it to the exit before someone grabbed ahold of my backpack strap and tugged me back into a hard chest. 

I stiffened, half ready to call out Isaac's name as he'd left before me, but the words died in my throat as Caleb Brentwood towered above me with his friends standing in a semi-circle around us. 

"What do you want, Caleb?"

"Ouch.  When did you stop being the sweet little Ivy we know and love?"

"Hmm, let me think.  Probably around the time your friends spray painted the word 'whore' on the door to my dorm room like a bunch of psychopaths.  Or wait—maybe it was when you had those girls steal my clothes from the bathroom and I had to walk back to my room in a towel.  Oh, no, I've got it!  It was when you decided to send out a naked picture of me to the entire school.  Yep, that'll make a girl lose her sweetness real quick."

"Come on, you just don't know how to take a joke.  What are you doing this Saturday?  I think you need a date."

I couldn't stop the harsh laughter from falling out of me.

"Right.  I'd rather walk across a bed of coals than ever go out on a date with you again."

"Who said it would be with me?  My buddy here was looking for someone easy since he's new to the school, and I told him I had the perfect person in mind."

The 'buddy' in question was almost a carbon copy of Caleb with close cropped light brown hair, light blue eyes and a t-shirt tan from football practice.  He flashed a pearly white toothy smile at me, but it was filled with a lecherous promise of handsy touches and the refusal to understand the word 'no.'

I bet he smelled like Axe body spray and some kind of fruity vape juice with a large heaping of body odor.

All these assholes were like that—handsomely perfect on paper, but just under the surface was a writhing beast of poison and hatred that ran so deep you could see the snakes swirling in the irises of their cerulean eyes.

"Oh really?  Is it you?  You're the easiest person I've ever met.  Didn't you have a threesome while we were together?  I'm asking because, you know, I obviously wasn't there."

I was growing tired of this confrontation.  I'd had way more than my fair share of run-ins with these assholes to know that I was most likely not going to get away unscathed, but this high school bullshit had gotten old after the picture incident. 

"Come on baby, you could've joined if you wanted.  You were just such a prude.  You're welcome for showing you what it's like to be with a real man."

"Huh?  What are you talking about?  I'm a virgin."

"Babe.  Cut the jokes.  You know I pounded that sweet little—"

"You know, I heard that if you don't bleed the guy never really even broke the hymen.  So technically, I'm still a virgin.  You know, since you're so small."

And with that, I ducked around them and sprinted out of the doorway and into the throng of students in the halls.  

Caleb didn't want to let me get away that easily, but I evaded his hands trying to grab for my bag once more.  

He had just grasped onto the strap once more before Isaac stepped up and slammed a hand into his chest.  Thank god. 

"The fuck do you think you're doing, Brentwood?"

"Yeah, yeah, little guard dog here, huh?  Don't worry, I'll see you soon without him babe."

"No thanks, I'd rather burn in hell."  

And then Isaac was tugging me along with his arms wrapped firmly around me and if I could've swooned, I would have. 

"Next time I'm not leaving until making sure you're right beside me.  That guy would do a whole lot worse than antagonize you with words if he got you alone."

I shivered in place, wishing that I had more to my self-defense than quippy one-liners and a scathing bitch face. 

"Next time, I'm gluing you to my side."

I hoped he didn't think too much over that statement, and how much I really wouldn't mind doing that—for a completely different reason than my own safety. 

Isaac had always had this beauty to his face and body that didn't give hints to the outside world about the jacked body hiding beneath the preppy clothing he wore.  No one besides his girlfriend and best friend (yours truly) knew of the two-a-day workouts he committed to and the strict meal plan filled with protein that he never deviated from. 

"Are you ready for this meeting with the Cartwright guy?"

"Hell yes.  The sooner I can show my father that I can make money with this, the sooner I can drop out of this fucking school."

"Are you sure you want to drop out, though?  Graduating from here is a big accomplishment, you shouldn't let bullies ruin it for you."

"I know, but the sooner I can be out from under my father's thumb, the better.  Maybe I can transfer to another school nearby.  My dad's only paying for this one because it's the same one he went to.  He's sending my half-sister in a few years when she turns eighteen, then my half-brother too."

"Well, if you end up going to Columbia, let me know how their screenwriting classes are.  My teacher here is being a serious asshole about my mid-terms."

"We'll see. I'd have to get out from under my dad's thumb first and then get accepted to Columbia.  Let's just see how this meeting goes with Mr. Cartwright."

We walked in comfortable silence thumbing through our phones until he made it to my dorm. 

"Thanks for walking me back."

"No problem.  Let me know if they give you any more trouble."

"I will, I promise."

I didn't tell him that I didn't actually tell him half the things those assholes did to me, but that was my business.  I hated asking for help. 

I quickly changed into something business casual—one of my favorite long cotton skirts with a high slit and appropriate heels with a tight silk button up shirt tucked in.  

My blood red hair fell across my chest in long, loose waves and I sighed in acceptance of the bluish-yellow bruise that was spattered along my collarbone from the football that had been thrown across the campus quad and landed directly on my body.  

I tried to forget the feeling of my iced coffee sliding down my body after the ball had hit me and the stinging humiliation of the ordeal as Caleb came to retrieve the ball he'd thrown at me on purpose.

I wasn't going to let him ruin this day, though.  Not a chance in hell. 

I got to the cafe thirty minutes early—the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the softness of the warm sunlight caressing my senses as the high chirp of birds nearby filled my ears.

A man stepped back and shadowed me in his body, and my mouth fell open in surprise.

The president of Cartwright Song Solutions was the nicest looking fifty year old man I'd ever seen. 

He kept his salt-and-pepper beard neatly trimmed and his smile was filled with genuine happiness as he spotted me. 

"Miss Bennett.  So wonderful to meet you."

His handshake was even friendly. 

"Lovely to meet you too, sir."

"I have to tell you, I'm very impressed by you so far.  I've read each of your poems that have been submitted to multiple publications and with every entry, you seem to get better.  I've listened to the demos that you've sent me, too.  Where did you record them?"

"Oh wow, thank you so much.  I, uh, actually my friend is a film major and he's got a studio for voiceovers when the video he recorded is too noisy for the actors to be heard in the final product.  He was nice enough to let me record my demos there."

"Well, his studio is very high quality.  I don't think there's any tweaking we'd need to do, and I think the only help you'll need should you choose to be represented by us is visibility.  We would reach out to clients with your material and wait to see if they like what they hear.  I hope you don't mind, I've already sent out a few to your top three artists you listed in your application for our firm.  I believe it was to two Indie artists and one mainstream artist that we work closely with, Kade Hendrix?"

"Yes sir, I've been a fan of his my whole life and I figured since he shifts his genres every few years, my songs might be what he's looking for...?  It was just a shot in the dark but no, I don't mind that at all."

"Wonderful.  I've got the paperwork here, if you want to take a few days to look it over and you can sign and scan the documents back in when you're done?  You could email them back to my assistant."

"That sounds perfect.  I'll send them over to my father's lawyer first to look over everything but I'm sure we won't have any issues."

I might've detested my father using me as a prop in his political endeavors, but that didn't mean that I couldn't take advantage of his resources when it fit my needs.  If he was going to use me, then I was going to be using him right back.

"Well then, now that the business talk is over—what do you think about pecan pie?"

I couldn't help the laugh that escaped me.  That was the easiest 'interview' I'd ever had. 

"I think pecan pie is one of the best things ever invented."

"Well then, Ivy, I think we're going to get along perfectly."

We spent the next hour discussing how my royalties would be calculated if an artist chose my song, how much I'd be paid if I was attached to a song as a co-writer, my role in creating demos and so on and so forth.  He'd even asked me if I wanted to be a singer from listening to my voice on the recordings but I'd firmly shut him down immediately. 

I did not sing in front of other people.  Ever.  Not after what Caleb had done the night he...

Nope.  

Not going to happen. 

We finished the meeting on a high note and I retreated to my dorm walking on clouds and went to lay down after finishing up another poem. 

Maybe if I could keep this happy energy flowing I wouldn't run into Caleb again for the weekend and I could have the best night of my life on Saturday after seeing Kade Hendrix in concert for the very first time. 

Somehow though, with my luck, I knew something would go wrong and fuck it all up, but at least I had this bubble of happiness to drown myself in until the other shoe dropped—I only hoped it wasn't a stiletto. 

Journal Entry #410

'Half of Me'

do you only want a piece of me

a broken hearted melody 

something everybody wants to keep

but I wash away in stormy seas

a broken plea

can someone please

please take this half of me 

and give me some kind of release 

they never cease

this pain diseased

is eased 

by the half of me that no one ever dares to see