I know I should feel better, that I finally got what I wanted. But as we walk down the stairs, I can’t help but wonder if we just made her more dangerous than ever.
Doesn’t matter. No more games.
Just her destruction.
CHAPTER 33
AVA
The wallsof my room are closing in on me, but at least there’s the faint comfort of knowing the guys aren’t on the other side. They haven’t returned since earlier. Maybe they’re just biding their time, waiting to see if I’ll finally crack and do something reckless, like try to run.
Right now, my self-destructive tendencies are mostly limited to a marathon session of cramming for finals. As if school even matters anymore. It seemed like the only way to get out of my own head, though, so here I am. Sprawled on my stomach, laptop open, highlighter stains all over my hands. The window is cracked open, letting in a cold draft that smells like mud and cigarette smoke. Every so often, I wonder if it’s Ford smoking below, or if it’s just the ghosts of all my failures.
I should be reading about the history of economic theory. Instead, my mind is reeling over Raf’s words. How I’m just like my mom– or maybe I’m worse because I think I can still win. I keep thinking about the way Wes looked at me before he left, like he didn’t know who I was, and how Ford looked like he wanted to snap my neck so he wouldn’t have to deal with me anymore.
I tell myself I’m over it. That I’m past the point of hoping for anything good to happen to me ever again. That all I haveleft is making sure I drag them through the flames as the fire consumes us all.
That’s when my phone vibrates.
At first, I don’t even check it, because what’s the fuckingpoint?But then it buzzes again, and when I finally look, my heart does this weird stutter-step, like it’s trying to decide if it wants to explode or freeze.
The messages are from my mother.
Ava, call me as soon as you see this.
Please.
It’s so out of left field that my hands actually start to shake. I haven’t heard from her in months– she hasn’t answered a single call since I left for Corvus, and I stopped trying to contact her after I found out she agreed to sell me to the Dollhouse. I stare at the text, then roll over and put a pillow over my face, screaming into it until my lungs burn.
When I surface, I type a message back.
Busy. Finals.
Her response comes instantly.
I’m in town, just outside campus. I need to see you. Please. I’ll explain everything.
My fingers hesitate over the screen, then I find myself typing back.
Why now?
This time, she calls.
For a second, I debate letting it go to voicemail. But then all the old muscle memory of hating her and needing her kicks in at once, and I swipe to answer, holding the phone to my ear.
“Hi, Mom,” I say, voice flat.
“Ava,” she breathes, her voice cracking on the first syllable. She’s breathless, like she’s running from something. “I’m… I need to talk to you. Face to face. It’s important.”
“About how much you miss me, or about how you let your husband sell me off to the Dollhouse?” I reply bitterly.
There’s a pause on the other end of the line, followed by a little whimper. “I didn’t know, baby. I swear. I just found out a few hours ago. If I did… if I had any idea…”
I want to scream at her, but the words get stuck somewhere behind my teeth. “You’re lying,” I grit out.
“Ava,please. Just meet me. I’m at the back gate of the college. Let’s talk about this, face to face.”
“I don’t even know where the back gate is,” I snap.
