SEVEN HOURS HAD GONE AS FAST AS SEVEN MINUTES.
It's probably because I slept five hours out of seven. That's the weird thing, you say you'll take just a little nap, and BAM! Winter's over, rise and shine shawty, you've hibernated for months.

The two hours I spent weren't really that productive, so I'll get to the good part.

I walked through the hall, mindlessly wandering when someone caught my arm. Was it a psycho maid or cook this time? Fortunately for me, it was none other than my dear sister, Avery. "You got time?" she asked.

"Loads of it. What's up?"

There was this weird twinkle in her eyes. Mischievous and a little thrilling.

"What do you think about race cars?"

·······•✦•······

[ JAMESON ]

"This is a terrible idea," her voice was so pretty at times. Arlene was so pretty at times. 

Jameson had snuck her and Avery through some secret passage and led them to a far wing of the house—past the kitchen, past the Great Room, into what turned out to be the largest garage the girls had ever seen.

Something about the wonder in their eyes. Oh, Jameson loved that little wonder.

"Well," He walked over to a car probably worth as much as the shittest to greatest of Picasso's paintings, "ya know what they say about terrible ideas."

"Don't do them?" Arlene's eyes deadpanned. Her lips were pursed, her hands on her hips.

"Keep doing them until they turn great!" Jameson smirked at her and proceeded to show them some cars. He could practically feel the boredom in Arlene's head.

Boredom he was going to wipe away so fast.

"The Aston Martin Valkyrie," Jameson said. "A hybrid hypercar with a top speed of more than two hundred miles per hour." He gestured down the line. "Those three are Bugattis. The Chiron's my favorite. Nearly fifteen hundred horsepower and not bad on the track."

"Track," Avery repeated. "As in racetrack?"

"They were my grandfather's babies," Jameson said. "And now..." A slow smile spread across his face as green met gold. "They're yours."

Arlene was dead silent before snapping her head towards her sister, "Don't even think about it, Avery Kylie Grambs," she warned. 

"I..." Avery smiled sheepishly at Arlene. A smile that felt addicting to Jameson. For reasons he couldn't guess why. And then a giddy sense of excitement filled his stomach at her next words. "Got room for two?"

"Why heiress," His lips curved into a big grin, "I've got room for two and a plus one."

Jameson was proud of himself.
He managed to somehow get Arlene in a separate car, "Why can't Ave sit with me?" she looked at him accusingly, "I think it would be better to drive at a slow and safe speed, with her and me. Besides, why not have some extra space, Gameboy."

Gameboy. "Nah, don't worry, Rina," he patted her head, just to annoy her even more, "I'll keep our dear Heiress nice and buckled up. Besides, I don't mind the lack of space at all."

Jameson drove the car onto a pad that lowered them down below the ground level of the House. Arlene right behind them. He drove soft and steady, like she wanted, till they reached the track. He could feel the buzz in the air, the electricity in the Grambs' eyes.

"The Martin's not technically a race car," Jameson told me. "Technically, it wasn't even for sale when my grandfather bought it."

"And technically," Arlene pulled up beside them, "we shouldn't be doing this at all."

Avery giggled and stuck her tongue out to her sister. Jameson cocked his head to his side, "Race you, Rina. Or are just that uptight?"

And there it was. That spark in gold. It made his hair stand up on the back of his neck.

"Ave, buckle up. And you, Gameboy," her eyes were now back on the road. Away from him.

"You're on."

——————

God help Jameson.

It wasn't even the fact that they were driving a hundred and fifty miles per hour, anymore. It wasn't even the fact that the windows were down and the wind was blasting against them anymore. It wasn't even the fact that she was driving his favorite as fast as it could go.

God, it was the fact that the way she whooped and sped up, challenged him, invited him. Raced him. All while shooting little glances at them, checking whether everything was okay.

And the fact that the girl beside him right now had the most amazing expression on her face. Adrenaline. Euphoria. Fear. Joy and wonder and all.

Was it too selfish for him to want the moment to never end?

Avery let out the most lively laugh he'd ever heard as Arlene swerved the car hard, facing them and driving dangerously backward. But something in his mind told him that nothing would dare crash into them.

The sunroof came down and she stood up, camera in hand. It was dangerous, it was reckless.
It was perfect.
"Ave!" her voice was muffled from the wind. Gods, her face seemed like a Greek goddess for a moment. Her tanned skin, glowing in the evening sun. Her hair was blowing in front of her face but as much as it tried it couldn't hide it.

It couldn't hide how much Arlene looked like her. 

"Say vroom vroom, motherfuckers!" The camera caught the moment. It wouldn't have, and it still wouldn't matter. Because that smile. That laugh. Their smile. Their laugh. 

That was something Jameson Winchester Hawthorne would remember till his grave.

·······•✦•······

Eventually, the car slowed down. Yet my mind didn't.

The world was still a blur and my entire body was still ready to spring up. I was so free. I managed to park the car and when I stood up, my legs felt like jelly.

"Holy..." Avery grinned. I leaned onto her for support as we let out small giggles, "That was... something."

Gameboy smirked at me and gave me a high-five, his touch lingering a moment longer than it should've. I was losing my guard.

But then my Guard was back. And he looked pissed.
Uh-oh.

"You and I," my head of security told Jameson the second he exited the car, "are going to be having a little talk."

"I'm a big girl," Ave said, eyeing the backup Oren had brought with him. "If you want to yell at someone, yell at me."

"Or maybe," I said softly, a little guilt creeping up my chest, "yell at me because I'm sorry?" I smiled sheepishly and yet sincerely. This was so out of character for me, how did I even agree in the first place? Oren's eyes softened and he sighed. He didn't yell. He did personally deposit me and Ave back in our rooms and indicate that we would "talk" in the morning. Based on his tone, I wasn't entirely sure that we would survive a talk with Oren unscathed.

That night, the entire world got a new piece of gossip on my life. Our photos were taken through helicopters. There were many. Me swerving the car, me laughing, Ave and Jameson together... there was also one of me standing and taking out my camera during a very dangerous back driving. Me taking a photo.

A photo that was mine and mine alone. A photo the world would never get the chance to see.

It was beautiful. She was beautiful. My dear sweet Avie. Her hair was blown back, like a horse's mane. Her pupils were dilated and her smile. Oh her smile. Ask the most gorgeous model to model it, ask the most talented artist to paint it, or ask the most skilled photographer to picture it.

And yet nothing in the world would come close to that smile ever again. The flawless curve of lips. That rosy color. Sometimes I felt as if I was the luckiest person in the entire universe to have Avery Kylie Grambs as my sister. 

Then there was Jameson. Jameson had the same light in his face, that same grin.
A grin I had seen before. A light I had felt before.

I had my doubts about Jameson. But if he had the ability to bring that smile to my sister... Maybe I should reconsider my doubts.

I didn't have any regrets that night. No, I'd say, if I had the chance to relive that exact moment in time, I would do it again. And again and all over again.

Even if it meant getting into controversies and bonks from my bodyguard the next morning.

·······•✦•······

Oren spent more than an hour going over security protocols with me and Ave. He indicated that he would be happy to do the same thing, every morning at dawn until it stuck.

"Point taken," Ave told him. "I'll be good."

"No you won't." He gave her a look. "But I'll be better."

I knew what we did was against at least fifty-something protocols. But I couldn't help but not care. That didn't mean I didn't apologize. "Johnny," I called after Ave left to get ready for school, "I'm sorry." 

Oren looked at me, and he was about to speak but I showed him the picture. A picture that was mine and a few people mine alone.

"I like that expression on her," I whispered, "I wanna see it again," then quickly added, "in not dangerous, security-protocol-breaking, job-hardening ways."

Oren's earlier stern expression melted away and he let out a sigh, "You're young. You wanna live, maybe not for yourself, but for her, I know," His eyes met mine. An almost paternal warmth in them, "But, Leena, you have to understand I was given the task to protect you. You have to be careful. Especially after the firm..."

Was he guilty? Because he couldn't act fast enough to stop that crazy receptionist?

"John," I didn't want him to feel bad for something that wasn't in his control, "If it's about the psycho, you wouldn't have guessed."

"But I should've." He straightened his back, "So do you get why I need you to listen, Leena?"

I nodded. "I do. I also get that you won't exactly like me asking you to go with Avery to school."

He didn't. But I needed him there. "She's going to a school of rich people. Many of who may be Mr. Hawthorne's enemies—and now mine. If a receptionist at my own law firm tried to choke me, what shield would she have in a school full of strangers?" I knew it wasn't in his job description to protect me and Ave, but I needed some reassurance that the curse wouldn't completely get to her too.

"Please, John? I'm gonna be right here, in the safety of the house and your men." The firm was supposed to be safe too. "Take it as a favor, now I owe you one. I promise I won't do anything too stupid."

Oren was reluctant at first but then he sighed. His big, muscular hand ruffled my hair, "You're too nice," he grinned, "fine, I'll keep her protected, but when I'm back at the estate, you are not getting rid of me that easy, Boss Lady."

I let my lips twitch, my messy hair sticking up from the randomest of places, "Want me to ask Alisa to give you a raise?"

"You better."

·······•✦•······

I found myself staring at the display-cum-temple of Sarina Salva again.

I noticed the last trophy she won was a first prize, Very-fancy-name-I-can-not-spell Academy, Dances and Theatrics, 2014.

Ten years ago. 

So, either Miss Lil Girl Da Vinci decided to take a break from being a genius after that year, or something happened. And she decided to take a break from being at all.

I looked over to the seven. Seven, eighteen, ten.

Dates? or code? The former was more likely and the easy option.

July Eighteenth, 2010
October Seventh, 2018
July Tenth, 2018

Great, random dates with no meaning behind them. 

I was halfway convinced that this was just poor maintenance and that my mind was making these things up until my eyes caught it.

It was beautiful.

A rich wooden box, hexagonal in shape, adorned with the most delicate and intricate carvings, in which gold was filled. The box was about as tall as my thumb to my wrist and a little smaller than my hand. There were symbols, gears, and little buttons all over it.

It was chaotic, yet in a strange way, also very appealing.

And, it was labeled: 'My Past to You', Sarina Elizabeth Salva, 07-18-2010.

I carefully held the box in my palm. The thing at to be worth a thousand bucks at least. It was cool to the touch as I traced my fingers over it. My hand bumped over some buttons and clicks.

Just as I was about to press a silver button, the box spoke.

"Snooping around again, are we, Leena?"

My soul bungee jumped out of my body and into an inferno for the briefest moment before coming back to the mortal plane of existence, "Jesus."

"Christ," the box—Xander, grinned cheerfully, "didn't know you're religious, Lee."

I put the box back on its display softly, "Ever heard of knocking?"

"Did, actually," he shrugged as he walked up to me, "you were too busy sticking your nose into our patents to listen." He lifted his lips in a smirk, "You wanna know us that much, huh?"

"As if," I rolled my eyes, "It's not you rich boys I want to know about," my eyes went back to the box.

Xander was a person who made his presence known, no matter how prominent or not, he was never the one to be silent. So when it got so quiet that I thought I was the only one in the room, I turned my head.

And I saw tears brimming in dark eyes.

Xander quickly coughed into his fists and smiled a confident, laid-back grin, that made me question my eyes. "So, ya wanna know about Arina, Leena?"

Arina.

"Xander," I chose to keep my tone as soft as possible, "Do you...?" I let my actions finish the sentence as I offered him my handkerchief (Fancy word for napkin?).

He looked at it as if he was ready to drench it with a flood, and then immediately took it to keep in his pocket.

Hawthornes don't break, huh?

"You think you can solve this?" I asked the box. And after a shaky breath, the human replied.

"Me? Solve any one of Rina's puzzles?" Xander gazed at the box, "Jokes on you, Leens, I've tried for seven years straight."

"Seven?" I blinked at him, "So you gave up after seven"

"After seven," Xander smiled ruefully, "there was no Rina to give me puzzles."

I let my lips slit apart a little. Sarina died when Xander was seven? 

I lifted the box again and held it to the light, inspecting its littlest of details. The gears and buttons that covered the puzzle were colored at random. Yet I could make out that they all were made out of precious metals or jewels. Six tiny buttons caught my eye. 

One was a thick gold one, then there was a tiny silver one, a circular bronze one, one made of emeralds in the shape of a cross and there was one that was diamond, and it was barely a line. The final button was a multicolored jewel. Opal, maybe? The button wasn't shaped anything special, just a chunk on the box.

"The Signature Six," Xander whispered beside me, "that's what she called those buttons. The six signature buttons that would mislead you from the actual gears," He held the box and started to turn some of the said gears, "And these..." a section popped out, "would make this happen, and if I twist this," the section rotated and stopped, "nothing, so I pull this," his fingers tugged at a small hook at the bottom of the box, making an empty tray pop out, "And then, as usual," with a defeated look he pressed the bottom of the tray up and fixed it to the middle, slid it in back and the box rotated...rotated... 
And got stuck, "that happens."

Xander sighed and set the box down as it was. I took it in my hands and looked at it. Really looked at it. And then, as if my fingers possessed a mind of their own, I began to twist and turn and flick the box, doing all the moves Xander did but just in reverse. Now it was expected that the box would just go back to its original state, but I stopped at the last part. Instead of focusing on the gears, I clicked all the buttons, gold, silver, bronze, emerald, and diamond.

For the opal, I held it.
Nothing happened.

Xander patted my back and sighed, "This is a five-year-old baby genius we're dealing with, Leenie," He started back walking out of the office, "Don't worry, I'll prepare some Losers Win Next Time scones for ya!" 

Five years old when she made this? So, right now, if Sarina Salva was alive... she would be a certain silver-eyed bastard's age. My age. 

Xander was gone and I whispered under my breath, "losers win next time."

I let go of the button.
And the box opened.

A box full of cotton, fabric, and ashes.

Drenched in blood.

·······•✦•······

a/n: how long do you guys prefer chapters to be?