Dark secrets- part 3.5
Sacrifice- 1. A giving up of something valuable or important for somebody or something else considered to be of more value or importance. 2. in chess, to allow or force one of your pieces or pawns to be taken by an opponent so that you can gain an advantage in position. 3. To allow somebody or something to be hurt, killed, or destroyed for your own advantage.
For almost six months, ‘Ariadne Smith’ perfected her image as an A star student. She lives in an overpriced apartment with her room-mate, Elise Goodson who had just as much as a perfect paper trail as Ariadne.
In school, she focused on her work and, though she dated, she didn’t take a fancy to anyone. She was distant for the first term but she eventually warmed to her classmates. Her best friends, Amelia Writhe, Rachel Gibson and David Pierce literally had to blackmail her to come to parties and once Amelia had resorted to holding her phone as hostage. After a while, Scarlett Checkinov really did become Ariadne Smith. She forgot about her friends and family at home because she had new ones.
“Ari!” Amy shouted across the campus, snapping Ariadne out of her daydream. She wasn’t sure what she had been thinking about so it couldn’t have been that important. Water splashed lightly on her college jacket from the fountain she was sat in front of.
Amy was juggling several architectural books whilst holding two paper cups of coffee. Her almond coloured hair was still braided from the sleepover the two had nights before while her eyes were a dark shade of brown. By the time Ariadne realised Amy was calling her name; she had already taken a seat on the grass next to her. One of Amelia’s favourite talk subjects was other people’s love lives. It was annoying as hell but Ariadne predicted she would begin her sentence with her three favourite words: Have you heard?
“Hey, Ariadne. Have you heard about Matt and Rachel?” Right again. Never tire of being right, Ariadne thought.
“Nope. What happened?” They broke up, of course. Why else would Amy care? God I ask stupid questions…
“They broke up because Matt said that you were hot and asked if he can set you up with his mate. Can you believe that? He obviously knows how insecure Rachel is so why would be say that some other girl is hot? So stupid.” She said- her voice heavy with an American accent.
“Kind of petty, isn’t it?”
“Ugh, I’ve been through it so many times with her, I don’t even care anymore. Who’s your professor today?”
“Professor Miles. You?”
“Professor Mossberg. Miles is better but whatever. Amy sighed. She finished off her coffee and glanced down at her watch. “Shit, I got classes, Ari. See you later?” After the two friends said goodbye, Ariadne made her way into the college.
The college hallway was crowded with students rushing to get to their classes and Ariadne quickly slid into the crowd. She was carrying for portfolio containing her report on the Chateau de Chambord. She had been fond of the architect of the building anyway so the report had been a breeze. In fact, she had even enjoyed her time learning from Miles. He was a great teacher and she enjoyed his lessons almost as much as she had enjoyed Yasinovkov’s lessons.
The sound in the hallway has sedated a lot since most of the students had left to get to classes so the sound of Ariadne’s phone seemed to echo around the halls.
“Hello?”
“Scarlett, please don’t hang up.” Ariadne stopped and stepped into nearer toilet stalls. She checked they were all empty before she talked.
“Julian? Is that you?” She trembled.
“Yes, listen closely to me, Scarlett. I don’t have much time. When I talked to you last, Elise told me something that got me wondering. When your sister, Marilyn, was placed in the hospital and her lover murdered, do you remember who the man was?”
“Why would you…”
“Answer me, goddamn it! Do you remember who the man was?” Julian shouted- his voice with a bite to it that Ariadne had never heard before.
“No. Father thought it best not to tell me anything about it.”
Julian cursed quietly. “Scarlett, I know you don’t trust me right now, and I don’t blame you but something is going on. You have to get out of there. Listen to me, please get out. Don’t go home or to Elise’s apartment. Go straight to a hotel and check in under an alias…”
“Julian, what are you talking about?”
“You’re in deep shit and right now I need you to let me protect you. Do you really detest me so much that you would be willing to risk your life to avoid me? Grow the fuck up!”
The anger in his voice had Scarlett reeling. It scared her how easily he could change, though she knew it was nothing he could control.
“Don’t call again, Julian. Stay away from me.” She thanked god he couldn’t see how much it was hurting her to say the words. “You think you’re so in control of everything but let me tell you something- I do not need protecting! Life is one big dirty fight from the day you’re born to the day you die and I have spent my entire live fighting so trust me when I say that I can manage a couple of middle-class thieves that happened to piss of the wrong people. Worst case ending: I kill them and everyone associated with them.’
‘Now, I’m going to hang up and when I do, I want you to disappear. I need to know that I will never hear from you again unless you want to join Marilyn. Do you understand me, Julian?”
“Listen to me, be careful of who you run to, they’re the one you should be running away from.”
Scarlett rolled her eyes and hung up. She crushed the SIM card underneath the heel of her boot and stepped out of the bathroom. There was still students hurrying from class to class, but no one seemed to notice her… until she came down the steps leading to Professor Miles’ room. She recognized the professor in his tweed suit first, and then realised he was stood next another man, one much younger than Miles. It was then it came to her- This, this man, was Dominic Cobb- the thief.
“Ariadne.” Miles summoned her, waving her towards the pair.
She came over casually, forgetting about everything. Forgetting about Julian’s warning. Forgetting about her sister’s murder. It was spiralling too, she just couldn’t see it. It was more than ironic. All those years predicting her enemies movements, actions and retaliations yet she missed the event which would lead to her murder.
Moscow, Russia.
Rachel Yasinovkov was allowed to walk home alone from school on the condition she came straight home and she ignored the blacked out ford focus following her. She was okay with it anyway. Her bodyguards were nice and always gave her sweets and, when her father was busy, Akim (the tall one with brown hair and a scar across his left eye) would take her for ice-cream. They never told her why she couldn’t go out by herself. All she knew was her father was into very important business and bad men may try to take her. At seven years old, Rachel knew her family wasn’t normal. It wasn’t normal for her siblings to leave for weeks at a time and never tell her what they did. It wasn’t normal for her father to have meetings with the president of Russia. It want normal to have men with scars come into her home to protect her whilst her parents were away and her siblings were out working. And she knew she was normal either. Her classmates didn’t know half the stuff she knew about assembling weapons and self-defence. She hid how smart she was from them. They would think she was a freak if she told them everything her family had taught her. But while she was in school in her blue and white uniform camouflaging into the mob of girls who surrounded her at all times, she was normal. Just like them, expect with a more important dad.
Her house was bigger than her friends too. Akim told her it was a ‘manor’, and was built specially for her parents when they got married. It had an endless amount of rooms to play hide and seek in and had a forest behind it to take Irena, the family Serbian wolf her father had bought, for a run. When she came to the front door, Akim was there waiting, stood talking to a similar looking bodyguard. He smiled at her and opened the door wide for her. She liked him. The other guards never smiled.
The ‘manor’ opened up with the kitchen to Rachel’s left and the library and study to her right. In front of her was a staircase that trailed up to the bedrooms. The hallway smelt of cooking cakes, the aroma drifting from the kitchen where her mother seemed to spend most of her time. Unlike usual, the house was deadly silent with not even the howl of Irena to welcome Rachel home.
“Papa?” She called out, placing her school bag underneath the empty coat rack and taking off her polished black shoes. There was no reply. She walked into the kitchen, following her nose. As usual, her mother was stood by the sink, a mixing bowl under her arm and in the other hand a wooden spoon twirling the cream inside the bowl. Rachel knew she got most of her looks from her mother. She was more beautiful, even though she was old. Sun beams shone in through the glass window, casting shadows onto the kitchen and onto the woman stood in front of sink. She had a simple blue silk dress on that would twirl if she spun around quickly and black heels. But something was wrong. Tear streaks had ruined her make-up and left her eyes red and raw. Her mother never cried. When she finally noticed Rachel stood by the archway, she turned around and smiled. Rachel tilted her head to the side and frowned.
“Mama, why are you baking pecan pie?”
“It’s a distraction, sweetheart.”
“Why do you need distracting?”
“It’s not for me. It’s for your father and your brothers and sister.” The woman placed the bowl on the kitchen island, mixing slowly, and drawing out every movement. “Because while I’m serving the family their favourite mean and congratulating them on their new successful mission, they will be so distracted that they won’t see the devastation in my eyes.”
Devastation: that was a new word to be used in the Yasinovkov household.
“What’s devastation, Mama?”
“It’s an emotion you feel at a very sad time. Like when the morgue phones to inform you that your eldest daughter has been tortured and killed in a home invasion days after she announces to her family that she was in love and was choosing him over the family legacy. You know who has done it, too. Only someone heartless could have done such a cruel thing to your sweet, innocent daughter. But because you loved your daughter, the pain you feel leaves you empty.”
“Do you love Marilyn? Even though she got married and moved to America?”
The woman stabbed the wooden spoon into the mix repeated; mixing the dough till it was on the edge of becoming cream. “Yes, very much. I repeatedly told your family, my family, that I wouldn’t be able to live without her. Because I loved her so much, I’m now baking pecan pie in a hope that the murders I call my family won’t see the pain in my eyes and ask what’s wrong. I feel so sorry for you, Rachel because I know what they’re capable of and even though your family loves you severally: they. Are. Killers. They will kill anyone if it means serving Compendium House. Even Scarlett.”
“No!” Rachel screamed, covering her ears hoping to bloke out her mother’s words. “Scarlett would never hurt anyone!”
The woman laughed bitterly. “Really? What do you think she’s doing in America right now? Hm? What do you think will happen with Marilyn’s husband and two children? They’re all dead, Rachel. Compendium House has to ‘clean up’ and what heartless monster do you think they’re sent to do their dirty work?” The words rang around the house, bouncing off walls till they burned into Rachel’s ears. “Your sister is there to kill Dom Cobb and his entire family.”