4
The sound of a door clicking closed woke me up,and Isat up in my bed and gazed around my room in Morgana Hall, then reached for my phone to check the time, only to discover that my phone wasn’t there. There was my overnight bag by the bathroom door, the zip open, and clothes were stuffed inside. Confusion stirred as I remembered I was going home for the weekend on my father’s demand…
No. Wait.
The meeting. My father showed me the pictures of me with the Warwicks. Wait. I rubbed my tired eyes with the base ofmy palm, then climbed out of bed as the room spun in giddy circles, so I had to crawl on my hands and knees to my bag, then rummaged through my bag, and found my phone at the bottom.
My eyesight was blurry and gritty, but after blinking a few times to clear them, I saw there were four messages from Leslie and two missed calls. The text messages were asking where I was, and then a comment about medics taking my father away.Please call me.
Then I remembered, although it seemed surreal because my head was so spaced out. My father. Hanging from the ceiling.
I shot him down.
Then…
Male voices quietly chatting nearby, but my eyes were too tired and my head too stuffy to wake. My body lay on something soft that was vibrating, and it took me a couple of moments to realize that I was in a moving vehicle. My mouth was bone dry, and my cheeks clammy and hot, but I was too tired. I tried to speak, but no words came out, and I was too sluggish to be afraid.
“She’s waking,” a man mumbled, his voice familiar.
“Give her another one,” another familiar voice replied, and moments later, my jeans were pulled down, and a sharp pinprick struck my hip. I fell back to sleep. Then I wake for a second time, and I’m back in my room at Castlehill.
Horror and shock struck my chest, and I struggled to breathe. My father is dead. My father hung himself. No. It was set up. Someone murdered him to make it look like he killed himself. My stomach stirred in nausea as my pounding head, stuffed with flashes of images that I couldn’t tell were memories or my imagination. Leaving my phone on the floor, I rushed to the bathroom, knees pressed against the hard bathroom floor.
I felt terrible. My thigh and arm muscles ached as if I’d been clenching for far too long, and my lower back was stiff and sore.
The more I vomited, the lighter my head felt, and memories continued to dance behind my eyes. I crawled to the basin and turned the faucet on, allowing cold water to fill my cupped hand, then I sipped the water to drain away the acid vomit taste at the back of my throat. But I was still ill and dizzy and crawled back to bed, grabbing my phone on the way. I closed my eyes for several minutes to try to decipher the images flicking about in my aching head.
Once my dizzy head had eased, I messaged Leslie back:I’m at Castlehill.
The door clicked unlocked, and I snapped my head up, frowning as the door swung open and dark-haired Lev walked in as if that’s something he’s done a hundred times before. “What the hell? Haven't you heard of knocking? This is a private room. Why do you have a key for?”
His pupils dilated as if he were surprised to see me stirring. “That’s a lot of questions, but I’m relieved you’re finally awake. I was close to calling the campus doctor. I kept shaking your body and patted cold water on your cheeks, and you still refused to wake.”
“You just walked into my room, what the hell? Oh…now it makes sense. It was you, wasn’t it? I knew it. Sneaking into my room and leaving a dead rat, leaving the fake snake in my bed. It wasyou, wasn’t it?”
“I bought you a sandwich,” he said, holding up a paper bag from Scholars and a can of Coke. “Thought you’d be hungry.”
“You’re not answering my questions…” Then another memory cut through my brain, making me jolt. “You set me up. You took those photos and sent them to my dad…” I couldn’t finish my sentence as the tears streamed down my cheeks, and I broke down crying. “My dad.Youkilled my dad.”
His dark eyes flicked to my phone lying on my bed before he looked up at me again, softer and more sympathetic. “Adina,” he swallowed and dithered as if he was struggling as to know what to say, “Adina, your dad killed himself.”
“No,” I sobbed as my chest tightened and my head continued to throb. “He wouldn't do that. Someone killed him to make it look like he committed suicide. He wouldn't do that.”
“Adi…he hung himself-” he choked on his words, then cracked open the can of Coke. “Look, have something to drink.”
“No, no, no, someone did that to him. I swear,” my face dropped into my hands as I blubbered uncontrollably. “He wouldn’t leave me.”
I felt the mattress sink as Lev sat beside me, and I clenched my fists, preparing to fight him off. He didn’t touch me, though, although I think he wanted to. “Adina…” he started softly, then my phone rang, and Leslie’s name flashed up on the screen.
I took a deep breath before answering, then as soon as I heard her voice, anger rose. “What are you doing back at Castlehill?” were the first words from her mouth. “This doesn’t look good, Adina.”
“I was kidnapped and brought back,” I spoke the truth, but even as the words fell from my lips, I knew she wouldn’t believe me. I mean…I barely believe it myself.
“What?” she gasped. “You were kidnapped? Oh, Adina, this is typical of you, isn’t it? Always the drama queen,” then she started choking up, although it sounded forced, but maybe my judgment had been clouded by my strong dislike of her.
“No, it’s true,” I sounded meek and annoying.
“Yet, you’re talking to me right now, so I guess your kidnappers aren’t so bad then,” she said sarcastically, and I shot Lev a dirty scowl. “He died while you were in the house, Adina. Did you not hear or see anything?”
