THE HALL WAS DEATHLY QUIET. The sounds of heels echoed.

The light was only a singular band, seeping from a gap in the bars.
The woman in front of him was young. 
The woman in front of him was old.

The woman in front of him was dangerous.

"So," her voice was eerily calm—her posture, straight and relaxed.
Her eyes, half-lidded, almost as if tired. And yet no tire was in them.
None when they struck into his.

"Let's try this again, shall we?" she placed down a file, the soft thud deafening in the silent room. His every breath was a drum beating harder and harder. His blood pounding in his ears. Senses all alert.
Alert of her.

How could it feel so threatening when someone simply leaned over and linked her fingers, propping her elbows on the table? Gold boring down onto him like a drill on his flesh.

Her words were sharp and emotionless, "Tell me," The woman was old, the woman was young, the woman was dangerous.

The woman in front of him was me.

"Tell me all about Arlene Amira Grambs."

·······•✦•······

[ AVERY ]

Avery was going to happily commit homicide.
She was happily going to commit homicide. 

Turns out, Arlene was a real sneaky escape artist.
And by sneaky, Avery meant, painstakingly quiet. 

While the others had been arguing, Arlene had woken up. What possessed her to get up, open her window, and jump from two stories above the ground, not even god could tell Avery. Like a cat, Arlene had landed feather-footed onto the ground. Keep in mind, this is a girl who just woke up from surgery. 

Not a single person noticed Arlene slip away from the estate. Not Oren, not his guards, not the Hawthornes, the Laughlins. No one. The only way they found out was because a lucky reporter had spotted Arlene exiting the gate and, taking a BMW some-model black bike and driving away.

Where to?
The police station.
To the man who shot her.

The moment Avery stepped out of the SUV, she stormed into the station. This was causing a scene. But let Alisa deal with the scandals. Payback for talking to Libby like that. Oren hot on her tail, they were about to go to the senior inspector but they didn't have to.

The little she-devil was right in front of them.
Her hands folded over her chest, her weight against the wall. In her black turtle-neck sweater, combat jeans and Converse she god knows when changed into, Arlene looked nothing like a girl who had been shot just yesterday, undergone surgery, and jumped from two stories high.

"You are fucking grounded." Avery didn't swear much. But some people just got that reaction from her. Some very special people.

"You do realize I'm the older sibling, right?" The laid-back attitude, the facade of indifference. Avery was very familiar with what Arlene was doing because she had done it so many times herself. Lying. Living in a delusion that everything was okay.

"Well," Oren spoke sternly, walking up to her sister, "you're grounded."

"Can my bodyguard ground me?"

"No," His eyes narrowed, "But John Johnathan Oren can."

Avery doubted bringing a smile to Arlene's face was the reaction those words were meant to elicit. But they did. And Avery's eyes couldn't help but be blunt at the beautiful curve of her sister's lips. "Why did you do that?" She asked as she walked up to her. "No, scratch that, are you okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Arlene cocked her head, raising an eyebrow.

"Hm, let's see," Avery gave her a tight-lipped smile, "I don't know, maybe because you jumped out of the window, several feet high, after waking up from surgery after getting fucking shot?"

"Ah, yeah about that," Arlene gently lifted her sweater and undershirt, only up till the previously mentioned wound, "I think my body got a system update."

The region of the gunshot, where there was supposed to be a fresh stitch...
Was nothing but a sliver white streak. A single scar and maybe some redness.

"How is that possible?" Avery murmured, her eyes widening and brows furrowing. 

"Dunno," Arlene's voice was distant and lost. This wasn't Avery's Leena.

"Does it hurt?" Oren asked as gently as he could.

"I'll survive," Arlene pushed off of the wall and stuffed her hands in her pockets.

"Not what he asked," Avery fell into step with her sister as they made their way back to the car, doing her sister a favor by letting the super healing topic go. For now. Arlene sat Avery in the front and laid her legs in the back seat. She ignored Avery's little shoot back, leaning against the door and looking outside.

The car began and Avery caught Arlene sitting up straightened for a moment, before relaxing. Following her line of sight, Avery's eyes were met with a man. 
All blood flowing in Avery's body drained completely.
"Oren stop the car."

"Oren don't stop the car," Arlene said nonchalantly. Avery shot a pointed look at her back. Oren decided to listen to her and parked the car on the side of the road. Avery practically threw open the door and ran outside.

Arlene didn't follow.

Frantic eyes scanned every corner. Every single one.
But like a ghost... he was nowhere to be seen.

"Come back, Avie," called her older sister, "there is no point. Can't catch a ghost in broad daylight, can you?" 

Avery leaned over the window, "That man, he—"

"He's the one who shot me. And is out of jail." Arlene closed her eyes, tilting her head down so Avery couldn't see the expression on her face, "I know."

·······•✦•······

A FEW HOURS EARLIER

The light was sharp in my eyes.

My body felt weak. Every movement I made, felt as if a thousand needles were inserted in me all at once. My ears were ringing and the outside yelling didn't help much. I managed to get up on my feet and my hands went to my wound. 

The events still so fresh in my head.
The paparazzi.

My threat. 

My lie.
The gunshot.
Me jumping in front of Grayson.

A surgeon with a creepy smile telling me that we weren't real.

I blinked. Wait, what? 

It was only a few flashes. But I could make a rough image of his face. The gleam in his eyes and the excitement in his voice. "We don't exist, Arlene. We are not real."

I took one step and immediately regretted it. 

"Fucking hell," my body felt as though being smacked by a baby elephant, Hulk style. Stumbling back from dizziness, I reached blindly for what I thought was a glass of water.

When entering my lips, it felt like water.
The same consistency.
The same viscosity.
The same color.
Water never felt more like what than that. 

Until, halfway through the glass, I realized...
It wasn't, in fact, water.

Dear Whoever-said-water-is-tasteless, fuck you.

My body immediately started trying to get the foreign liquid out, coughing and spitting. It was nasty but if I drank that entirely, I believe that would be even more nastier. The glass dropped down and shattered. I doubt anyone heard though, the noise outside was barely audible here.

My hand shot up to soothe my burning throat. That acidic taste still simmering. 

Before I could call for Oren or some nurse, I felt my entire body freeze.

That weakness and dizziness from before was flushed right out. An overwhelming strength surged through me. Every muscle in my body tensed up and the vision of my eyes was clearer than before. For a moment, I wondered if I was glowing gold as well, but I guess that was too far of a stretch.

Just what did I drink?

I turned around to the bedside table and was met with the sight of a note. 

I traced my hand over the ragged edges of the paper. And I read.

Rowing away from your boat,
Says the boy who leaps and jumps.

Dare and dare, I say to the old,
Is it all you ought to know? I see an endless fall,

Looking out the window.

I ponder on everything I've known.

"Your dare is to..." I strained out a breath, my eyes blowing wide,

"Fall out the window?" 

·······•✦•······

I am insane. I am insane.
I am mentally troubled to the point it needs medical attention.

Pause! Given above are the thoughts that run through a manic person's—woman's, in this case—head while falling at an accelerating speed from several feet above the ground. Now, dear students, you are assigned to guess what said woman's fate would be in four minutes, and twenty-three seconds.

Those of you who guessed she falls to her death, breaks a couple of bones, and turns disabled for life, you are...

Incorrect!

Those believing she somehow survived due to plot armor and terrible writing skills, you are...

Also incorrect!

Those of you who have calculated the probability of a certain pretty boy being at the right moment, exact right time, with the completely correct reaction time and spot-on strength to catch a sixty KG weighing female like a feather weighted stuff toy dropping out of the sky, you are...

Absolutely correct!

"Arlene?!"

Yeah, class, I think we need to rewind a bit.

I spent a good minute or so going over the possibility of me skydiving out of my window because a paper told me to, before magic-ing said paper to cute little shreds and making my way towards the door.

My palm hugged over the knob and my fingers brushed against something pointy. Ouch.

Yelping, I grabbed my hand back and glared at the knob, as if it was the perpetrator of disheveling my life, but instead, I was met with the sight of a little cream triangle sticking out of the edge. Getting closer, I realized that the triangle was the tip of the iceberg—or should I say the tip of the carefully folded, wedged between the fine gap in the handle and barely noticeable paper. Taking the chit out and opening it, I find inc in the shape of two words.

Behind you.

Imagine the fastest whip. Zooming around before you can blink an eye. You see it it?
Too slow! My head was faster than my body. My thoughts and shock, faster, then came my fear.

There was a mirror.
There was me with my back faced to myself. 
There was me in my hospital gown.
There was me...with burns all over my back.

I remember not much from my life these days. But I sure as hell know...
My back never had a speck in my days of living—much less a painting of red slashes and gashes.

And more so frightening was the itsy-bitsy text in the corner of the mirror:
'Some memories rise the latest but burn the worst. Go change. Wouldn't you like to know what Hawthorne has on you?'

And so I found myself in front of the wide-open window.

I had found some clothes in the closet and had hurriedly thrown them on. Now standing with the chilly wind against my neck, I was starting to wish I had taken my sweet sweet time. Maybe even forever. Literally.

Was I really gonna do this? Should I reconsider my last words: 'Get Avery a better lock'? 

Clearing my head, I took in a deep breath.
This wasn't a game. This was real.
What I was going to do was real.
Somebody knows about me. More than I know about me.

And I had to find out.

One inch closer; the air was getting sticky yet too thin.
Two inches closer; I started to notice how high a few feet can really get.

Three inches closer; maybe Grayson wasn't that much of an Armani Lord. I could totally picture the dude slaying Louis Philippe.

And when there was no ground beneath my feet I realized...

I forgot to tell Oren I woke up.

·······•✦•······

Oh well, I'll send him a million dollars and a couple thousand Alpacas.

Right now, I had bigger problems.

I'd taken the leap of faith. And the one thing I didn't have right now... was faith.

The air was knocked out of my lungs as I toppled down. The wind whistled against my ears. I wondered why was taking me so long to go splat all over the cold concrete road. What possessed me to be so calm as gravity started pulling me closer? And what the hell did the gods have against me that day?

Because, hooking his arms under my legs, holding me up from spreading organic, tomato-free ketchup all over the ground by just a few meters, Grayson Davenport Armani Lord Pretty Boy Hawthorne caught me.

Fuck.

Welcome back to class! Class dismissed. Arlene's life dismissed. Everything dismissed.

"Arlene?!" His arms tightened around me. It felt caging. It felt grounding.
It felt terrifying.

"Amira Grambs," I kept a face of smugness and laziness, hiding the way I wished I was six feet under the earth right now.

If I had a camera I wouldn't have missed the expression on Mr. Perfect's face for the world. The pure shock, confusion, and life-questioning urge to elegantly hit something on his sculpture-like visage. It amused me. But my mortification beat the amusement.

"Are you out of your mind?!" He whisper-yelled, backing us away into the shadows. In the dark, his gray eyes seemed to look like rain clouds. The creases on his eyebrows started to look like an impending earthquake of a lecture coming straight at me.

"I—"

"Where did you—" He cut himself off as he glared ice shards at me, "You didn't," Yeah I was cooked, "Tell me you did not."

"Uh... I did not jump from my room window after surgery?"

"Are you suicidal, Ms. Grambs?"

"Oh shut up!" I narrowed my eyes at him, my cheeks still flushing because of my position, "I-I had a plan...ish."

"Marvelous. Was it dying in style? Because from where I stood, it seemed a lot like so."

Groaning, I writhed under his grasp, "You can put me down now—"

"Not a chance," his grip was harder and firmer. Yet still, it felt as if he was trying to control the strength to not hurt me, "You are going back to your room right this moment, Arlene Amira Grambs."

A small wave of panic set in my chest, yet my face showed nothing but annoyance.
If Oren catches me I'll be grounded for life.
What if that man gets away?
Does he know about the burns? Did he do it?

Too many answers were at stake for me getting grounded by my bodyguard because of a pretty snitch. So I did the only reasonable thing that came in my head. 

Operation Honey Trap.

"Grayson..." My voice went down to a slow, soft whisper. His attention was all mine. My hand was placed so gingerly on the side of his face, that I was almost envious of him. My eyes shone with glaze and my pupils dilated. 
And then...
My lips were on his...
Cheeks.

"OW!" I fell down on the hard ground. The man was too stunned to speak.
Operation Honey Trap: Success!

In a split second, my hand shot up, fingers hooking into the silk knot of his tie. His tie. Of course, he wore one, perfectly knotted and pristine, just like the rest of him. Well, not for long.

"Arlene, what are you—"

I yanked hard, pulling it free with a satisfying jerk. Grayson stumbled, caught off guard. His arms loosened, just enough for me to twist around, the tie a perfect weapon in my hands.

My hands moved on instinct, looping the silk around his wrists before he could recover. It wasn't pretty, but it held. I tugged it tight, and when I looked up, his silver eyes—usually so cold—were wide with disbelief.

"Did you just—"

"I..." I blinked, then my lips curled into a smirk, "think I just did."

"Ms. Grambs." His voice had dropped, low and warning. And yet I couldn't care less. My eyes scanned the scene, trying to figure out my next move. A bike. Keys in his pocket and a dossier fallen beside him labeled: Arlene Amira Grambs.

Bingo.

"I'll be taking these," I slipped my hand in his coat pockets. My breath against his neck. Immediately backing away while spinning the keys on my finger. I didn't want to stay a moment too long in that man's personal space. I bent down and grabbed the dossier. 

And then I might have just poked an angry lion. 
But in my defence, I just could not not ruin Mr. Perfect's perfect, barber's dream hair.

The locks of hair felt surprisingly soft against my fingers. The gold, a nice contrast to my skin. Pretty. I should probably ask him about his hair routine when he doesn't despise me so much.

"I think," I couldn't keep the smugness out of my voice, "it would be in your best interests to keep those rich boy lips zipped, hm?" I took a photo. Blackmail purposes only. 

"Arlene, you little—"

"See ya! I'll try to get your bike back in one piece," I started the engine, leaning over the bike, "...probably." And zoom I went.
Zoom went the girl who was not supposed to have a clue how to drive.

"I'll drop in again sometime!"

·······•✦•······

a/n: this chapter had no reason to take so long to write smh... but oh well. Sorry for late chapters guys, my exams are coming and school sucks so. Any thoughts? 

a/n 2.0: I edited little things in this chapter. Also quick favor guys: give me motivation pls. Comment on the randomest shit Arlene does or gimme your theories and wildest thoughts! No need to hold back! It helps a lot!