Riot Rules (Crooked Sinners)

by Callie Hart

I fought tooth and nail to come here. Since my very first day at Wolf Hall, I’ve done everything in my power to avoid trouble. I’ve avoided any sort of behavior that would lead to me being noticed in any way. It’s the way it’s had to be. When you’re outrunning your past, sometimes the present needs to be minimized for it to be safe. Getting involved in anything remotely Riot House related is a bad, bad call, and equates to sheer insanity. I need to wash my hands of Dashiell Lovett and run in the opposite direction like I’m being stalked by a swarm of killer bees, but… Godddamn that but. I hate that but. It’s the root of all my issues. I can’t wash my hands and run away, because there’s something about Lord Dashiell Lovett the Fourth that makes my heart beat faster. When he sits at that piano, he’s a different person altogether. I’m searching for that Dashiell, I’ve been searching for him for a long time, and I can’t seem to let him go. And avoiding trouble, heartbreak and unwanted attention has its benefits, but it also makes for a very dull existence. And that’s precisely what I’ve been doing. Existing. Just getting by. Making it from one day to the next, congratulating myself when I accomplish such a small feat without hiccup. Living like that? Making myself so inconsequential? A piece of me withers and dies with every day that I observe the rules and play it safe. I’ve begun to wonder how long it will be before there’s nothing of me left. I like listening to him play. I...