He just chuckles quietly as he closes the door behind him.
“Kohen! I swear to God I’m going to sell your kidney on the black market if you don’t give me back my crutches!”
I wait for a beat. Then two.
Nope. Nothing. Not a sound.
He’s gone.
I hop on my good foot to the door and swing it open, looking left and right. Where did the—soon to be dead—motherfucker go? Christ, I’m outof breath already.
He left me here. He seriously left me here? Literally, what the fuck? Who takes someone’s crutches like this?
Fuck it. You know what? I’ll give him five minutes. If he’s not back by then, I’m tracking Charlie down, putting my morals aside, and somehow taking both Osman men down. Kohen, by his jealousy. Kiervan, by… I don’t know. Maybe I could frame Kohen for the murder of his brother? Does “trying anything once” extend to murder?
Hopping back to the table Kohen deposited me on, I stare out the window to the Science Wing. It’s not close, but the modern construction sticks out like a sore thumb against the rest of the gothic structures around here.
It’s… almost peaceful sitting in the dark, being somewhere no one but Kohen knows. At least it’s peaceful from the outside looking in. On the inside, I’m itching all over. It feels like any second now, I’m going to suffocate under the weight of my impending failure. When have I ever done anything successfully?
My eyes snag on the desk at the front of the class and my fingers start to tap on the corner of the table. The need to steal something tickles the back of my brain, an incessant buzzing that doesn’t stop. No one’s around. I have pockets.
I gnaw on my bottom lip. If I get caught, the punishment would be so much worse. I wish that fear made the urge disappear, but it only pushes me forward tenfold.
Fuck it.I grit my teeth and jump back off the desk, bearing the pain that slices up my foot and up my leg.
Screw Kohen for leaving me here.
Screw Jonathan Whitlock Sr. for being such a dick.
And screw Elijah for putting me in damn crutches.
I limp over to the teacher’s desk and try all the drawers. I’m not about to sit around and wait for Kohen to come get me without an award. I deserve compensation for my patience, and I’ll take that in any way I can.
There’s no joy in stealing when there’s no pressure. If this is a trap, I’m fucked whether I go through the desk or not. If it isn’t, then the thrill of it isn’t there anyway, so this is a mindless grab to fill the time rather than a compulsive tendency that would have Dr. Van der Merwe scribbling away on his pad. Or is this an impulsive decision?
You know what? It doesn’t matter.
None of this matters. Everything is temporary, and I’m going to die eventually anyway.
“Bingo,” I say when a drawer finally gives.
My shoulders deflate when I see what’s inside. Books? Where’s the fun in this? I pull out the books, piling them on the table, flipping through each one as I go.The History of Literature.The Modern Day Shakespeare.The Art of War.The Aeneid.Pride & Prejudice.
I drop the books back into the drawer and slam it shut. Well, that was disappointing.
All the other drawers are locked, but it doesn’t stop me from trying to wiggle them open. With a little bit more light and the gods’ good graces, I might have been able to pick the locks.
The sound of footsteps makes me still, limbs locking just as I’m about to try the cupboard. It grows louder a little too quickly for comfort.
I make a dash for the spot Kohen dropped me in, ignoring the pain as I drop down onto my haunches behind the desk.
There’sthe thrill I was after. The heart-racing, blood-chilling exhilaration that comes with the suspense of waiting to see who iscoming this way. I’m a full-time pessimist until it comes to times like this. Part of the joy of situations like this is being anxious enough to know I might get caught and cocky enough that I’ll probably get away with it.
My anxiety-induced racing mind quiets so the sound of the approaching footsteps is all I can hear; I can’t even hear my blood pumping or my quickened breath.
Purpose and intent: the two things I can get for free without scrounging around for cash. It’s always too short-lived, but there’s something to be said about being able to feel every second of it. The sound of my pulse roars in my ears. The way the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. How a chill settles over my skin. It’s almost as good as getting high or having sex with Kohen.
I hold my breath when the lock to the door clicks open, ducking further down and narrowing my eyes to try to make out the person from between the table legs. I grasp the closest thing behind me as the person approaches. Slowly,quietly, I pull a thick book off the shelf.
