When Art Rises: Living in Cin: (A Twisted Interracial High School Love Triangle) Read online

  When Art Rises: Living in Cin

  A Twisted Interracial High School Love Triangle

  LORRAIN ALLEN

  Table of Contents

  Copyright

  Author’s Note

  Soundtrack

  Description

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Thank you for Reading

  About the Author

  Stay Connected

  Other Books

  Copyright © 2020 by Lorrain Allen

  Published by Lorrain Allen

  All rights reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. Thank you for respecting the work of this author.

  This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and incidents either are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  The author acknowledges all song titles, song lyrics, film titles, film characters, trademarked statuses, and brands mentioned in this book are the property of, and belong to, their respective owners. The publication/use of these trademarks are not authorized/associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Lorrain Allen is in no way affiliated with any of the brands, songs, musicians or artists mentioned in this book.

  Edited by: Maggie Kern

  https://www.facebook.com/MsKedits

  Proofread by: Emily Hainsworth

  http://emilyhainsworth.com

  Proofread by: Novel Nurse Editing

  https://NovelNurseEditing.com

  Formatted by: Brenda Wright

  Formatting Done Wright

  Cover design by: Dez Purington

  http://prettyininkcreations.com

  Author’s Note

  This book contains several triggers and is only for true dark romance lovers. Arthur is not the hero—he’s the anti-hero. While the story is set in a high school environment, its recommended reading age is eighteen+ due to mature content, explicit sexual scenes, and graphic language. Read at your own risk.

  Soundtrack

  Listen now

  Kiss it Better – Rihanna

  I Knew You Were Trouble – Taylor Swift

  Wrecking Ball – Miley Cyrus

  Love Me Like You Do – Ellie Goulding

  Crazy In Love (Fifty Shades of Grey Remix) - Beyoncé

  Haunted – Beyoncé

  Dangerously in Love – Destiny’s Child

  Power Trip – J. Cole featuring Miguel

  Sure Thing – Miguel

  Bed – J. Holiday

  All The Time – Jeremih featuring Lil Wayne and Natasha Mosley

  Dive In – Trey Songz

  Description

  Arthur “Art”

  The moment I die, I’m going straight to hell, and that’s exactly where I belong. When I was fifteen, the course of my life changed—one second was all it took. The truth about what happened that summer night is driving me to the brink of insanity. I’m an ex-drug addict and suicide survivor who’s been deemed a lost cause. No one can control me. I don’t give a damn about anything—until I meet her. She’s a “Cin” worth committing.

  Cinnamon “Cin”

  I have a life most would envy—a track star with a full scholarship lined up after I graduate high school. My boyfriend and I are looking forward to our future together. I’m content—until I meet him. He’s dangerous, damaged, and I know it’s best to keep my distance, but damn I’m drawn to him. Art is a beautiful disaster, tearing my carefully laid plans apart, causing havoc. Little did I know my choice would set in motion the destruction of my perfect world. The consequences will be catastrophic once the dust settles.

  As I peer down at my three-year-old brother lying in the superhero-painted casket, guilt consumes me like a festering wound, slowly poisoning my body. I don’t cry. I don’t know how to. He looks as if he’s sleeping, like at any moment he’ll open his bright clear green eyes, and ask me to play with him. His black eyelashes lay against his pale skin. I can barely glance in the mirror anymore without seeing Cole staring back at me. We have the same black hair, eye color, and facial features—courtesy of our father. He was so full of life and curiosity, but now he’s an empty shell. It takes everything in me not to grip his shoulders, to shake him, to demand he wake up. All of his favorite action figures and other toys lay in the casket with him. Large photographs of him smiling, playing, and doing various activities surround the casket. I would give anything to have the ability to manipulate time.

  This isn’t real. It can’t be real. It’s a nightmare. Wake up—please wake up.

  I will it to be true. I squeeze my eyes shut then slowly open them again, confirming my worst fears: this is reality.

  Fuck reality.

  The day I found Cole floating in the water, my life was shattered. I searched the huge mansion for thirty minutes before deciding to head to the backyard. I didn’t think he would be there, since he knows not to go near the pool alone. He was just learning to swim and needed a lot more practice before swimming without any assistance. I immediately dived into the water to retrieve Cole. His small body was ice cold. I screamed for one of my friends to dial nine-one-one. I worked on trying to revive him until paramedics arrived. Later, I would find out that nothing I did would’ve saved him. Cole had been in the pool for eighteen hours. He was pronounced dead at two o’clock. I might as well have been in the pool beside him, lifeless. I haven’t been eating, sleeping, or showering. I know I resemble the walking dead. I may look calm on the outside, but that’s merely a persona. If one more person says “I’m sorry for your loss” they’re going to get a broken nose. Inside I feel like a volcano ready to erupt, and everyone around me will be burned alive by the lava.

  I failed him when he needed me the most. I was supposed to watch over him, protect him. If it wasn’t for me, he’d still be alive, but I’m a selfish motherfucker—a fifteen-year-old drug addict, my narcotic of choice: cocaine. I had spent the night before I found Cole fucking, drinking, snorting coke, and partying. It was a Saturday night, the nanny had a family emergency, my mother was out fucking only God-knows-who, and my father was at his office, attempting to hide from his fuck
ed-up life, scheming wife, and controlling father. Giving them the label of mother and father is a stretch. More times than not, my mother acted as if my brother and I didn’t exist. She doesn’t have the maternal gene. I was raised by my nanny until I became old enough to look after myself. For the most part, I have zero adult supervision.

  My father is a weak man, controlled by his father like a puppet and used as a doormat by his manipulating wife. He was completely infatuated with her, acting the besotted fool, I’ve been told. She was nineteen when they met and he was forty, thinking with his dick instead of his brain. He didn’t stand a chance against her alluring hazel eyes and strawberry-blond locks. His sin was lust—hers, greed. A match made in a fucked-up paradise. A year later, they were married. The following year, I was born. My father had a severe stroke the night after learning of Cole’s death. He’s in a comatose state with little hope of recovery. My mother lavishes unwanted attention on me now—no doubt she’s just as guilt ridden as me.

  I was once a rising football star until I started skipping school and hanging out with a crowd much older than me.

  God, please take me instead.

  My plea goes unanswered. I can’t live with this—it’s tearing me apart. The church is filled to the brim with mourners here to say their final farewell to my little brother. When I arrived, I walked straight to his casket and haven’t moved. Someone grasps my shoulder, but I don’t turn to see who it is.

  “Art, the service is about start,” Uncle Ricky says.

  He pulls me to the first pew where I sit down.

  Sometime later, I’m in the limousine with my uncle and his son Josh, grandfather, and mother, heading to the cemetery. No one says a word. The tension is thick. I can count on my hand the number of times I’ve seen my uncle and cousin over the years. Josh and I bumped heads the first time we met, and since that day we’ve had an unspoken rivalry between us. My uncle is lucky. He got away from this fucked-up family and never looked back. When my grandfather failed to control my uncle, he sunk his talons into my father. The old man is a self-made millionaire who dominates the real estate industry, leading him to open five-star hotels along the East Coast called The Falcon with plans to expand globally. Now that my father had a stroke with little hope of recovery, he wants to bring Ricky back into the fold, but he’s not interested. Neither am I. My grandfather can kiss my ass. The entire service was a haze. I don’t recall any of it.

  I walk to the gravesite, feeling like a death-row inmate.

  As I walk through the valley of the shadow of death…

  The reverend reads a few verses from the Bible. Once the service is concluded, family and friends walk to their vehicles. Most will be driving to my home for the repast. I never understood the point of a repast. I don’t want to eat or sit around and talk with people. I want to be left the fuck alone.

  “Art, are you ready to go?” Ricky squeezes my shoulder.

  “I’m not leaving. Not until the casket is covered.”

  “Okay, I’ll stay with you.”

  He walks over and talks to my mother before coming back to stand beside me. The sound of the dirt hitting the casket is going to haunt me for the rest of my life.

  Ricky and I arrive at the mansion a little later.

  “I’m going to my bedroom.”

  “I’ll be up in a few minutes to check on you.”

  I feel sick to my stomach as I race up the staircase. Once I reach the privacy of my bedroom I shut and lock the door before stripping out of my suit. I walk over to the dresser to retrieve my pocket knife from the top drawer then sit on my bed. There is one universal fact that can’t be ignored.

  I don’t deserve to be alive.

  I slit one wrist and then the other. The knife falls to the floor from my numb fingers. I lie back on the soft mattress. There’s a knock on my bedroom door.

  “Art?” Ricky calls.

  I feel drowsy, like I’ve been drugged.

  The knock comes again. I’m slipping away into oblivion, where I want to be. After a few loud bangs, the door swings open.

  “My God! Art, what have you done?”

  Darkness envelopes me, and finally the pain is gone.

  Three years later

  I watch snowflakes float down from the bright blue sky while sitting at my desk located in the back of the classroom.

  “Art, would you like to read your essay?” Mr. Jared, the English Literature teacher, asks.

  Fuck, I don’t need this shit. It’s the last day of school before winter vacation. When I rolled out of bed this morning, I didn’t brush my hair or shower. I’m impressed with myself for actually taking the time to at least wash my face and brush my teeth. My uniform is wrinkled, the shirt open at the collar with my tie hanging loosely around my neck. It’s the last class before lunch. I’m getting through this damn day by the skin of my teeth.

  Usually teachers don’t bother me since my grandfather wrote a big fat check just to get me into this school. Bribery is something he excels at. I’ve been kicked out of four schools, including one military, since being released from rehab two years ago, so the old man must’ve been extremely generous. Blackwood Academy is one of the most expensive private schools in Boston, Massachusetts. The offspring of the rich and famous are enrolled here. I have the same financial status as them, but that’s where the similarities end. My appearance alone should’ve made it impossible for me to be accepted.

  I have small stainless steel hoops hanging from my ears, a frenulum, nose, lip, and tongue piercing. My tattoos include flames covering my right arm up to my neck, a skull on my right pectoral, a heart with a knife through it on my left, a semicolon behind my left ear, and the last one is an image of Cole covering my entire back with the sun shining behind him. Just before Thanksgiving break, the class was given an assignment to select an important figure in history who made a significant impact on how the United States operates today. It’s about a week before Christmas, Cole’s favorite holiday, so I sure as hell wasn’t thinking about a fucking assignment. What I really want to do is buy cocaine. The urge is beating at me, wearing me down, and I want to give in.

  I can’t sleep at night because my little brother haunts my dreams. The conclusion of the nightmare is always the same.

  “Help me! Please, help me, Art!”

  “I’m coming, Cole. Hold on!” I yell.

  The faster I run, the farther away the pool seems to be. In the distance, I can see Cole fighting to stay above the water. I pump my legs harder, pushing my body to the limit. Sweat drips down my face, but I’m not making progress. The fight in Cole lessens with each second that passes.

  “Don’t give up, Cole!” I shout frantically.

  His body disappears under the surface. The silence is deafening.

  I always wake up right after that moment in a cold sweat, my heart pounding in my chest. With the nightmare being my constant companion, it’s no wonder I’m sleep deprived.

  “No, I don’t,” I reply.

  “Why not?”

  “Because I didn’t complete the assignment,” I reply, nonchalantly.

  A few of my classmates snicker.

  “Art, you’re skating on thin ice. Do you want to graduate?”

  “I really don’t give a fuck if I graduate or not, Mr. Jared.”

  “That’s not a good attitude to have.”

  “But it’s the only one I’ve got.”

  “Mr. Jared, you shouldn’t waste your breath on scum like him. He’s a lost cause,” Kade cuts in.

  He sits a few seats over from me.

  “Do you want to say that to my face?” I ask.

  “Whoa, gentleman. Let’s be civilized to one another,” Mr. Jared cautions.

  “Arthur, I smelled a little something when you walked by me, and I just wanted to know if you washed your ass this morning. From the state of your appearance, I’m assuming the answer is no.” Owen chuckles.

  That statement causes the entire class to erupt into laughter.

>   “That’s the scent of your mother. I was in her pussy all night.”

  “You motherfucker,” Owen growls.

  “It’s time for your ass whipping,” Kenny announces.

  If I get into one more fight this school year, I’ll be expelled, but if Kade and these motherfuckers want to continue the beef, I’m game. They thought I would be an easy target to bully since I have no friends and keep to myself, but they were mistaken. Though it’ll be three against one, I’m not scared. I’m looking forward to the confrontation. I’m instantly on alert, ready to throw down. “Enough!” Mr. Jared bellows.

  Kade, Owen, and Kenny are on the lacrosse team, so they’re pretty buff. I may not play football anymore, but I’m just as big due to my nights spent working out to avoid sleeping.

  “Mr. Jared, isn’t it unsafe for someone with a history of mental illness to attend school with normal kids?” Kade asks in false concern.

  “Everyone knows you wear those leather wristbands to cover up the scars from your suicide attempt. How about you finish the job so you can join your dead brother?” Kenny adds.

  I snap. I don’t give a fuck what anyone says about me, but my brother is off-limits. I stand, pick up the desk, and launch it across the room to strike Kenny in the face. He’s out cold. Shocked gasps and loud cheers fill the classroom. I hear Mr. Jared call for security on the radio. Kade and Owen rush me. I sidestep them, hitting Owen in the throat. He drops to his knees, grabbing his neck. Two down, one more to go. This is light work. I duck down when Kade swings his fist at my face. I come up with a hard jab to his side, making sure I put all my strength behind the hit. The cracking sound, coupled with his cry of pain, is satisfying. I broke the fucker’s ribs.

  Two security officers enter the room.

  “I should’ve known it was you.” Tony sighs.