“I’m keeping that to myself,” I say, heart pounding. “But trust me, I’ll handle it. I’ll find out what she knows,”
Silence stretches. I brace. I know what’s coming. He doesn’t need much to twist a decision like mine into punishment.
If I give him her name, he’ll find someone to disappear her before I can blink. He’ll rip the truth from her, and if there’s nothing to find, he’ll find someone to kill her anyway. That’s just who he is.
He exhales, slow and dangerous. “Listen to me, you ungrateful little fuck,”
And then it begins.
“Do you know what I wanted to do when you first turned up on my doorstep? Crying, wrapped in a blanket like someone was supposed to care?” He laughs, bitter and sharp like broken glass. “I wanted to feed you to the fucking dogs,”
My stomach drops. I can feel the blood draining from my face.
“I was halfway to the kennels before Delphine came running after me. Not because she gave a shit, don’t flatter yourself. She’d read the letter your filthy bitch of a mother sent with you. She threatened to ruin everything. Said if I didn’t take you in, she’d blow open everything, names, locations, bank accounts,”
He spits the next words like poison. “So, I kept you. Dressed you up like one of us. Fed you. Schooled you,”
My eyes sting. I clench my jaw so tight it hurts, but it doesn’t stop the tears.
“But I never loved you,” he hisses. “I tolerated you. And I made damn sure you paid for every second you stole from me. Every fucking day, I broke you a little more,”
A sob escapes my throat before I can swallow it. I press a fist to my mouth, but he hears it.
“Oh, don’t start crying now,” he sneers. “What, still hoping someone out there might care? Your mother dumped you like trash, only checking in to make sure you are still alive. Marlowe can barely look at you.Nobody wants you, and deep down, you know that. You’re a walking mistake,”
“Stop,” I whisper. It comes out cracked and pathetic.
But I don’t hang up.
I can’t.
It’s like watching a car crash in slow motion, brutal, inevitable, and too horrifying to look away from.
“I’m not going to let you fuck this up,” he continues. “I want hard proof, evidence that the Academy’s hiding something. If I get that, I’ll tear the place apart. Until then, get me the files on the other girls. All of them,”
His voice drops, cold and final. “And if you haven’t squeezed something useful out of the one you’re protecting, then it’syouI’ll deal with. And you know what that means,”
The call cuts out.
But I don’t move.
I stand there, staring at nothing, the phone still pressed to my ear.
And I feel it. like something inside me has just cracked wide open.
I have always been pushed away and ignored when I asked about my mother. Delphine called her a whore and that she was most likely dead. I made up stories in my head that she had to give me to that monster, she didn’t have another choice. Now I know different.
Archibald may be many things, but he is no liar.
I eventually wipe the back of my hands across my wet cheeks and drop the phone to the bed as I stand. I need to get out of here.
I need something to numb this pain. The constant ache that is my shitty life. I don’t want to think anymore, don’t want to replay memories or wonder what’s coming. I want to feel the steady beat of my heart in my chest, a reminder that I’m alive. That’s all that matters. Everythingelse, every heartbreak, every shadow, is temporary. The future is mine to take, if I can just survive the present.
I remember Corden mentioning the billiards room on the second floor, and the not-so-secret stash of alcohol hidden there. Not like it needs hiding. The faculty stay in their own building on the estate, and they know exactly what goes on. If they can turn a blind eye to missing students, what’s a few bottles of liquor?
I grab my cardigan and shrug it over my thin vest top. I hesitate over the sleep shorts, bare legs in this cold, but say “fuck it” under my breath and slip on my fluffy slippers before heading out.
It’s ten o’clock on a Friday night. Usually, I’d steer clear of any shared space, but the Deveroux house is throwing one of their usual parties, loud enough to rattle the windows. Most students will be there, those who aren’t are probably buried in books like Deena, or hiding in their rooms like I usually am if I don’t have a little investigating to do.
