Not Your Cinderella

Chapter 4 : Revenge Is Sweet

I look up from the computer screen, my mouth shaped a perfect 'o'.
"Row? Is something happening because you keep blocking me out?" Hannah asks through the phone.
"Han, something come up, I'll call you later yeah?" Before she can respond I hang up the phone call.

I was so surprised by your food fight for one today I thought I'd also surprise you - A: Unknown number.

Going back over to my window I wave my phone at Alex signalling that I had seem his film production feature.
"Well? Did you enjoy my surprise?" He called from his own house.
"The words rubbish quality are the ones that first come to mind," I smite.
"Wasn't much I could do in that department, we had to book the dancer last minute," He shrugs as his smirk morphs into a wicked grin.
"If the film isn't shot properly then the dancer has no chance," I retort, mirroring his shrug.
"Would you like me to come over and we can do a re-shoot?" Alex raises his eyebrows at me.
"Seriously?" I exclaim, before I slam my window shut and draw the curtains. I make a mental note to ensure that I triple check that they are closed before I change.

Taking myself over to my bed I power up my laptop determined to create some sort of master plan for revenge.

*

I sit, waiting. A black balaclava in hand. A childish gesture as to what I am about to do, but nevertheless it's giving me great confidence for what I'm about to do. I get the part. Gingerly getting out of my own bed, I feel the need to sneak even in my own house to my curtains which I peak through as a surveillance measure. Recorded in my notebook on my desk, by 12:30 Alex Rossa had turned his lights off, and so an hour later, currently, at 1:30 I am certain that he must be asleep.

I steady my breath. Here goes nothing. Clenching onto the fabric, I open my curtains fully and open my window as far as it can go. Come on Rowan you can do this. I pull my balaclava over my head and adjust it accordingly. Carefully, I swing my legs out of the window and onto the sill outside. The cold night air instantly attacks me. I feel like I am watching my first horror movie all over again. The suspense is killing me, my heart is hammering so hard it could quite easily explode out of my chest. Breathe. I pull the rest of my body out until only my hand holding the handle is left inside.

I begin to shiver violently. What am I thinking? I'm going to get myself killed. I look down at the drop between where I am now, and the floor. Oh god. I am going to die. I am going to fall and hit the floor with a disgusting splat. This will be the end of Rowan Steele.

I think back to the video, and the cause for putting myself in this ridiculous amount of danger.

They say revenge is sweet. Let's hope I get to taste it.

I take the plunge and jump. Not gracefully, nor elegantly, but, I jump. For a few seconds I am weightless in the air. Then I land on my feet on the other side. I do a mini celebratory dance before I lose my footing and almost fall to my death. I stifle a scream by shoving my hand in my mouth. Looking at the peculiar situation I had put my hand in I slowly retract it before whipping it onto my trousers.

To my delight, Alex's window is still wide open, just as before. Silently, I slip in and land softly on the springy carpet of his room. From my back pocket I bring out a trusty marker pen. Quietly, I make my way over to Alex's bed. His face looks so carefree as he sleeps. Not the smirking look he usually has glued to his face. I take off the lid of the pen and start my piece of art.

A few minutes later and I'm done. I feel proud of my work, my artistic talent is somewhat limited, but I have achieved what I set out to do. I add one more dot to my canvas and study it a final time before placing the lid back into the pen. Sneakily, I grab my phone from my back pocket and snatch a picture of this moment that I'm sure I shall cherish for the rest of time. Then, I make my way back to the window.