“How about this…” Branson proposes. “You know as well as I do that in this life nothing comes for free around here. Fuck me and I’ll tell him nothing happened.”
“Then it would be a lie.”
“Choice is yours. He believes we fucked, even when we didn’t, or you fuck me, right here, right now, and he will believe nothing happened.”
“You’re an asshole!” I yell and a twig snaps behind us. “What's that noise?”
“What's the fun in telling you? The games have begun, you’re not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy.” His face turns into something dark. “I think you should run now.”
“What games?” If he thinks a small noise from the dark is enough to scare me, then he is sorely mistaken.
“I have told you before to pay attention to what is happening around you, but you need to run, Amelie. They are coming and you’re not dressed up, so you have now become the hunted. I could catch you right now and fuck you, and the game would be over before it even begins.”
He can’t be serious. Game? What fucking game? I don’t plan to play. Instead, I take off running for the dormitory entrance.
Footfall pounds on the ground behind me, making me glad I’ve been running with Onyx; my endurance is better than it was.
A large silhouette of a body blocks my path, causing me to turn and run back in the direction I just came from, adrenaline pumping and through my veins. More twigs snapping and leaves crunching surrounds me. I’m literally being hunted. It’s pitch black now, compared to the light that previously allowed me to see the shadows disappearing into the trees. I can’t see the path in front of me, so I have to use my hands to guide my way. I rack my brain trying to figure out why I am being hunted...am I even the prey? Or am I in the wrong place at the wrong time?
There’s no way anyone could have known I was coming out here tonight. Not one person.
My legs burn and I’m thrown off my feet when I hit something solid. I scramble to feel around and I’m in luck: a hollow log. I manage to squeeze my body into the space inside the log, or what I’m hoping is a log. I close my eyes and wait.
I hear muffled voices and whistles. The sound of dogs barking gets closer and closer. What is going on?
Chapter Twenty
Amelie
I must have fallen asleep, waking up in a tight spot has my muscles cramping. Sliding myself out of what I thought was a log last night, I discover that it turns out to be a hollow cement cylinder.
I race from the woods, not wanting to encounter whatever was out there last night.
I spot Kalen as I come across the oval, he is surrounded by a bunch of girls all laughing at what he is saying. Jealousy hits me hard when he looks at me and his lip curls up in disgust. I shake my head and don’t bother approaching him; he clearly needs time to calm down before he is willing to talk. If he really thinks I’m the type of girl to screw a guy after leaving another's arms then maybe he doesn’t know me that well at all.But isn’t that what you’re doing, Amelie, with all the brothers?My damn subconscious even thinks I’m a whore.
“You look a bit rough,” Baxter says, stating the obvious. I feel twigs stuck in my damn hair.
“Fuck you, Baxter.”
“I offered for you to do that but you declined, and now look at what you have caused.” He looks over my shoulder and I look back. Kalen is now glaring at us. Baxter grabs me off guard and pulls me in closer.
“Pretty boy hates you. My offer still stands.”
“You don’t want to fuck me,” I state pushing him off me. “It’s all some game to you, to piss them off.”
“Maybe so, but fucking you would be an added bonus. Not many girls are game to get close to me, what with me being a killer and all.”
“I thought you weren’t allowed to tell anyone why you’re here? Besides, somehow I think it’s your face that scares the girls away.” Baxter laughs.
“You’renot supposed to ask why,weare free to tell people. I killed someone, Amelie, and I enjoyed it. They deserved what I did, and worse.” I’m shocked at his admission. Though when you look at Baxter he does admittedly look like a serial killer - extremely good looking, charismatic, unstable. Isn’t that what they said about Ted Bundy? That he was good looking. I can see the comparisons.
“Well nice chat. I have somewhere to be,” I say.
“Yeah, singing lessons with your little slashed-up boyfriend.” How the hell does this guy know my every move? It’s freaky. It dawns on me that maybe Monty has him spying on me. Shit.
I race to the music block and find Slate waiting for me, he takes one look at me and his eyes go wide.
“What the fuck happened to you?” Well at least he’s still talking to me.
