Oh Atlas, what are you doing...?
[Cordelia] Jude pauses at the door, his face a bit uncertain as he touches his lips where I had just kissed him for the first time. “I know this is sudden but I was wondering if maybe you’d be open to going out later today?” he asks with a small smile. “Maybe we could head to the beach, get a bit more sunshine, and you could come to my lab after,” his eyes are bright with hope, “ What do you think?” I usually avoid the beach. I am terrified of the water. But he looks so earnest and hopeful that I agree. “Great!” he claps his hands. “That’s settled. We’ll do a little swimming and then…” “Swimming?” my nervous voice hitches, raising an octave. The problem is, I never learned how to swim. I’ve always been a bit afraid of the water. Silly, I know, living near the coast. But I rarely made it out to the beach. I tell Jude all of this and he laughs. “Oh don’t worry about that,” he brushes aside my fear. “I am an excellent swimmer. I used to spend my summers in the Catalina Islands.
[Cordelia]Just as I am about to give up, a strong set of arms wrap around my torso, pulling me up to the surface. “Hang in there, Cordy,” his words are like a prayer. It is strange, but my mystery rescuer sounds a lot like Atlas. No, it couldn’t be. He’d never call me “Cordy.” He hates that nickname.Someone is pressing down on my chest. Their lips press air into my lungs and I am turned to my side so that the seawater can cough it’s way out of my stomach and chest. The saltwater burns as it leaves my body, but I don’t care as I take a deep, grateful breath. I open my eyes. Kneeling next to me is Jude, who is covering me with a warm, thick towel, his eyes full of worry, and someone who looks a lot like Atlas.“Clark?” I realize as my eyes regain their focus. “How? I?”“I like to come to this beach and surf when I’m in town,” he points to his board, the one that carried me to shore. “It’s a lucky thing that I found you when I did. We almost lost you forever.”I take a few minutes to
[Atlas] When Sydney said “bonfire” with some “friends, " she didn’t tell me that it would be more of a nightclub on the beach. Future Hollywood starlets in bikinis mingle with shirtless college athletes with sculpted abs and perfect California beach tans. The closer we get to it, the more I am certain that coming out tonight was a bad idea. I am in no mood to socialize, especially with a bunch of overgrown children. Sydney leads me to a group of jocks wearing board shorts and tank tops. They are all giving Sydney appreciative glances as they see her approach in her bright bikini and cut-offs. “This is my boyfriend, Atlas,” she announces proudly. She tells me their names but I don’t bother with remembering them. I don’t plan on spending time with them in the future. “Hey Boyfriend Atlas,” one of the large college boys laughs as he punches me playfully in the arm and he hands me a beer. “You’re going to need this. We’re about to play “Two Truths and a Lie.” You drink every time you
[Cordelia] Nothing in my life had prepared me to be treated like a common criminal. It felt like everyone at the party was watching me being dragged off by two uniformed officers. I could hear whispers as I passed asking, “Who is she? What did she do? - Did someone get hurt? Robbed? Killed?” A few flickering faces glare at me, their eyes averted as their lips twist in cruel judgment. Nobody stops them. Not even Atlas who stands as still as a statue, his face frozen in disbelief. “What is this all about?!” I demand as they push me against the hood of their car. “I refuse to come with you until you…” I hiss in pain when my leg connects with the side of the car, my bruise searing in agony as they tighten the handcuffs and toss me into the back of a police cruiser. Once we arrive, I am escorted through the police station to be fingerprinted, photographed, and thrown into a dark cell smelling faintly of urine and dry vomit. “I want to talk to my lawyer!” I scream as the bars cr
[Cordelia]“Cordelia, please sit down,” Atlas makes enough room for me to sit next to him. I stand in the doorway, stubbornly refusing to budge, preferring to shiver in the cold than to spend any more time with him. “Look, I promise I won’t do anything but talk to you,” he holds up his hands in surrender. “If I do, you can just punch me.”I glower at his cavalier attitude over his previous attack and my threat. Does he really think I’ll be okay with him in the back seat of the car after he had treated me so roughly?“Please Cordelia,” he pleads. He is usually so arrogant but right now he seems so vulnerable. “I just want to make sure you get home safely.”I think of fighting back, of waiting out in the cold just for spite, but that would be useless, silly, and only hurt me. Hesitantly I agree to his offer for a ride home. His whole body relaxes as the door shuts behind me. Atlas doesn’t look like his usual self. It isn’t just that he is still dressed in his beach clothes, but he lo
[Sydney]“Agh! She did it again!,” I scream at the phone as I pace back and forth. “I even…well, you know…and he left me to rescue her!”I am pacing back and forth in my bathrobe, my father on speakerphone. He woke me up with news of Cordelia’s daring escape from her prison. Atlas swooped in and rescued her like a white knight. “Now Sydney-bear, calm down,” my father cooed through the phone. “We have other ways to get Greyson Mills away from Steele,” he refers to both the company and the woman, Cordelia. “You’ll get the best of her. You’re a Bryant. We Bryants never quit. Especially against a Greyson,” his growls his distaste, the word sour on his tongue.“I’m just so tired of this game. I really like him, Daddy. I want Atlas.”As my father gives me assurances, I replay the day in my mind, trying to make sense of what went wrong. The trap was perfect. [FLASHBACK–YESTERDAY AFTERNOON]“Are you sure these will work?” I text my father. “Of course, it will work,” he replies, “Trust me.”
[Cordelia] I’ve been stuck on the phone with my mother for the last hour listening to her unending rant about her “situation. She is speaking so rapidly and with so much force I haven’t had a chance to say more than two words. I am exhausted from the day before, sore from the accident and my experiences in jail, and listening to her jabber is taking the last bit of energy I have remaining. “...And now our lawyer is saying there is no way out of this without at least one of us going to prison!” She starts to moan and weep. I pull the phone away from my ear. “I’m sorry, Sweetie, but it looks like you might have to spend some time in jail.” I startle at her implication. She doesn’t know what I know, so I try to feel gracious as she explains how she’ll let me take the fall for everything in order to save the company. She then spends the next ten minutes wailing about our family’s misfortune–one daughter missing and the other daughter in prison. I am glad she cannot see me roll my e
[Cordelia] Pulling open the wall carefully, I peek inside. Sensing my motion, overhead lights flicker to life, revealing a staircase leading down. Maybe his bathroom is downstairs? Making my way down carefully, I do not pay attention to the sound of the door sliding closed behind me, nor the tell-tell sound of the lock latching nor did I notice the jars lining the walls on shelves until the tangy smell of antiseptic mixed with formaldehyde hits my nose. Thankfully I also see a large, covered garbage can. Spilling the contents of my stomach into the receptacle, I feel better, but also worse at the same time. Where the heck am I? This is not the bathroom. I am standing next to a cold, metal table. It is covered with the paper that doctors use in examination rooms but lacks any of the basic comforts one usually finds when in such places. Leather straps are hanging from the sides of the bed, to hold a patient in place, and troughs lining each end for drainage. It looks like