Alamort

33. Priya

M arching into the dean’s office, I do without knocking. On the way over here, I’ve worked myself up over the injustice of being targeted by him. It’s as if he sits there constantly monitoring the students’ school website, fixated on any mention or wrongdoing associated with my name. My father, my mother, the Demons’, Amber, and the dean, everyone conspiring against me.

As I push the door open with more force than needed, I briefly lose my resolve when I notice the nurse rubbing her knees while Bush casually zips up his gray trousers. It’s easy to put two and two together to figure out what’s going on. I may be inexperienced, but I’m not na?ve. I understand what oral sex involves. Strands stick out on the sides of her messy, dark brown hair, as if someone had run their hands through it. She hurries past me, touching up her smeared maroon lipstick and avoiding eye contact. Before rushing out into the hallway and shutting the heavy door behind her.

“Miss Carter. You’re earlier than expected. Take a seat.” His tone holds a note of irritability at the unexpected interruption. My steps are slow and measured as I take the seat across from him. Considering the amount of funding this school receives, I’d expect them to invest in comfortable seating. Not chairs that make my bones grind against the wood with every subtle movement I make. My chilly hands clasp together in my lap as I wait.

Bush straightens his suit as he sits. “What was so important that you had to interrupt my meeting?” The unbothered tone he has is grating on my nerves. His “meeting”? His dick down the school nurse’s throat during school hours seems super important.

“I wanted to discuss my detention.”

“Ahh, yes.” He says, patronizingly, “Your little…” Bush looks up, searching for a word. Everything about this guy is shady. The detentions, the questions, the double standards. Call it my sixth sense, or just dealing with people like him all the time, but I’m right.

“Inappropriate display in the cafeteria this morning.” My jaw drops open on its own accord. This guy must be kidding right now.

“You’re serious?”

“It’s becoming quite bothersome to keep tabs on all your transgressions.”

There’s an easy fix for that. Stop. “Get your head out of your ass and do something about the menaces running this school.” That’s what I want to say, but it’ll only get me into more trouble. If there is anyway to get out of these ridiculous detentions, I’m going to have to up the stakes. Time to go with the next best thing: blackmail. I’ve never resorted to it before, but it’s not beneath me.

“What would everyone think if they knew you were fucking the school nurse?” Exuding a sense of calm and confidence in my threat. Checkmate, sleazeball.

Bush’s eyebrows shoot up at my boldness. Like everyone else, he probably underestimates me. With a smug glint in his eyes, he leans back comfortably in his wingback chair.

“You want to know something I found interesting?” Refusing to take his bait, I stay silent, observing his coiled posture, mirroring a striking cobra. He’s going to tell me, anyway.

“I received a call from your father after our last visit.” The pause he takes lets me know he wants to keep me in suspense, because my father would never willingly call anyone about me. “Told me to let him know if I had any additional issues with you and your behavior. He wouldn’t have a problem coming here and setting you straight.” The statement alone makes my confidence falter. He searches my face. What he must see causes an evil grin to spread across his face.

The usual darkness that intertwines and drags me to face my grief is now a chill seeping through my bones with the phantom ache of his fists. All the air has left my lungs. The facade of my calm composure is cracking. My nails dig into my thighs, hoping the sting will bring back some resemblance of control.

“Now, since you’re here early, we can get started on detention. Unless you were planning to go back to class?” Giving him a brief nod of acknowledgement, I wait for today’s torture session.

Leisurely, he makes his way next to me, just as he did last time. This time, my guard is much stronger. He will not throw me off again. He reaches out with his repulsive hand, making me instinctively recoil as he tries to touch a loose strand of my hair.

“I once heard about attention seekers like yourself. That any attention is ‘good’ attention.” He sucks his teeth. “If you need attention so badly, I wouldn’t mind giving it to you.” I flinch at the husky tone his voice takes. Red flags are waving in front of my face. My stomach turns at the thought of him using my father as a threat for this. Would I choose the evil I know? Or submit to threats?

“Don’t worry, Priya. We’ll get there.” There’s an unspoken promise in his voice that makes my skin crawl. “I had a ladder brought in here for you. My shelves are in need of some dusting, especially the top ones.” His eyes are like mud caking my body as they look me over. He nods his head towards the shelves, and I take the hint. Last time, he only kept me for the hour. I hope he’ll need the office for another student and cut my time short.

“Start from the top down.”

Biting my tongue to keep myself from telling him how much of a pervert he is. I stomp over to grab the ladder out from behind his desk. I’ll begin at the farthest corner and hope my detention will end before I get anywhere near him.

The ascension of the ladder feels more like a death march. His gaze seems to penetrate through my skin, leaving a trail of discomfort with each step. There’s one exit out of this dungeon, and it’s right next to me. Worst-case scenario, I throw myself off the ladder in heels and make a run for it. Potentially stab him in the eye with one of them. Filled with thoughts of revenge, I direct my energy towards tackling the dirt and grime that’s accumulated on the highest shelf. The dust on the books confirms my earlier suspicion that they are purely decorative and have never seen a scrap of daylight. What are the qualifications for running a school? Chancing a peek over my shoulder, his eyes are zeroed in on my ass. I cringe and wrinkle my nose in response.

“Fucking pervert.”

“What was that?” There’s no way he heard what I was muttering under my breath. It seems that he interpreted it as a indication to come closer. My eyes dart to the doorway. I’m only a couple of steps up on the ladder. This jump wouldn’t hurt… much.

He's close enough that the metal steps of the ladder dig into my back, in an attempt to get away. His sausage fingers run over the buttons on my school uniform. My stomach rolls. Much like his nephew did. Right as he’s about to speak, the door to his office swings open. He startles and skitters away. In the doorway stands Saint. Unlike Bush, his mere presence in the room is enough to dominate the entirety of the office. It’s suffocating and dark, like it was this morning. Remembering the terror on River’s face as he pressed a knife into her side, my jaw clenches.

Saint hums, taking in the scene before him, looking between the dean and me. His steel-blue eyes hold a dangerous calm. His tongue runs along the piercings in his lips, drawing my attention away from his stare.

As the words, “You-You’re dismissed, Miss Carter.” left Brian’s mouth. The tension in my posture leaves and I practically skip down the ladder, my heel catching on the last step. Thrown off guard by the abrupt presence of a hand reaching out, I quickly react by instinctively throwing myself out of harm's way, eager to put some distance between myself and the perceived danger. The hand, quick and firm, grabs me and pulls me behind a wall of a man, herding me towards the door. An intriguing combination of leather and wood emanates from Saint bringing back a vague memory that I can’t quite place. My shoulders lose the tension I’ve been carrying since walking into Bush’s office. Whatever connection my mind is trying to make, I quickly dismiss it to get away from Bush.

Once I make it back to the safety of my room, I shut and lock the door behind me, pressing my forehead against the cool metal of the barrier that hides me away. As if that’s kept anyone out this far. The moment I inhale, my muscles automatically become tight and rigid. It…smells wrong here. Like when walking into my room after Addi had been in there, I could smell her long after she left. Or forgetting to take out the trash. When food is left out on the counter when leaving in a hurry. There’s a smell here that doesn’t sit right.

Upon opening my eyes, my arms go limp. The energy I had accumulated from the headmaster’s office is sucked out of me completely with the chaos that has consumed my room. Papers scattered everywhere, and furniture overturned. The bed, which once used to be cozy and inviting. Now lies in disarray. Its stuffing ripped out and scattered about. Small strips of shredded bedding fill the room, and feathers from the cream colored down blanket settle on every surface. Someone has ransacked the kitchenette, tossing now, opened food packages haphazardly. There goes the last of my food. The Demons’ haven’t let up on my personal rations of rabbit food and fruit for dinner. Hunger grumbles in my stomach, aching at the thought of discarding carelessly wasted food.

My eyes fixate on the closed closet door. A lump forms in my throat, and I struggle to swallow it down. My sister’s sweaters. I have more at my parent’s house, but these were her favorite. The threadbare hoodies that are timeworn with love. She mostly slept in them. She was always cold and shivering, even with the heat on. These articles of clothing are the most precious things I own. Pictures can be replaced, but objects that hold her scent or that her skin has touched cannot. The odds of someone missing my closet after destroying my room are slim to none.

The room’s vibrant colors seem to drain away as I reach for the doorknob. My focus shifts to what awaits me on the other side. The unsettling creak of the door is magnified by the surrounding silence. I’m already regretting bringing something so important with me here. In our house, we left her room untouched, a constant reminder of her absence. Forever frozen in time, the way she left it.

My heart pounding, I utter a silent prayer before forcefully ripping open the door like a Band-Aid. Quick and painless. Only, it’s not. Inside, ripped clothes lay in tatters, while someone had recklessly thrown crimson liquid around, coating everything in its path, including the formerly immaculate carpet. My eyes bounce back and forth, scanning the destruction, hoping to spot any trace of the three hoodies. Faded white, beige and baby pink. My hands shake as I reach into the trash thrown around the closet. I search through the pile of clothes, frantically sifting through anything that resembles her hoodies, discarding everything else in the process. My body trembles, heat covers me from the inside out. Where the fuck are they? Anyone who came into my room wouldn’t know the significance of these clothes. Turning around in a circle to see if I missed something, I squint when I see the safe. Only touched once when I first got here. It’s unlocked and barely cracked open. A sinking feeling settles over me, like a demon leaning over my shoulder, filled with excitement that has me breaking out into a cold sweat. That means someone knew the combination and knows it’s my sister’s birthday.

“ Open it ”, a voice whispers in my mind, spooking me even further. I’m procrastinating. Whatever is inside isn’t a good thing. At a snail’s pace, I open it. Inside sits my sister’s precious hoodies, unscathed from whatever disaster struck the room. Relief loosens my shoulders. They’re okay. It’s short-lived with the black letter on top, lined with my name in red calligraphy. Gingerly reaching in to not touch the clothes with my red stained hands. I carefully pluck it off the top, then settle back on my haunches to open it.

Whoever did it was kind enough to save one of my most prized possessions. Could it be my Shadow? My painted fingers massage the oncoming stress headache. My Shadow doesn’t seem to be the petty type. Destroying my things is too childish for him. Now, destroying my life? That would be more his pace.

With trembling fingers, I open the flap,

I’ll always ensure the well-being of my possessions.

Yeah, that’s not creepy at all. I’m thankful for my things being saved from the carnage and all, but not enough to truly be in debt to someone over it. Is it too much to ask for someone to be a decent human being?

I should ask River if she can look into the hallway cameras again. The worst she could do is tell me no.

Priya

Hey, can you look in at the cameras again?

Her response is instant like her phone was in her hand.

River

Yeah. What am I looking for?

Do I start with whoever gave my room an extreme makeover? Or who left the letter? It could be an answer to both.

Priya

Someone broke into my room. It’s destroyed.

Not even five minutes after I’ve begun to sort through my things, the door to my room swings open. River stands in the doorway, her hands fly up to her mouth. Windblown jet-black hair and chunky combat boots, I can’t help but imagine her running here, her cheeks blushing with a rosy pink hue from the wind.

She splutters incoherently before she’s able to form words.

“What in the actual fuck?” The words sound foreign in her mouth, like she wasn’t made to say curse words. It brings a smirk to my face. I’m corrupting her heaven bound soul. Instead, I nod and continue to put everything into garbage bags for housekeeping to take. Realistically, this is their job they’re paid to do, but helping speed up the process wouldn’t hurt.

“I’ve already got ahold of the office, the cleaners, and the people who are supposed to be in charge of the dorms. They should send you money to replace all your things. I also took the liberty of sending the dean the video of Oscar and Amber breaking into your room. But I didn’t send him the one of the guy dressed in all black coming in before and after they had left. I thought you would want to see it first.”

My eyes narrow at the phone in her hand before she tosses it to me. Watching the video, my face flushes, my knuckles turn white from the death grip on her phone.

“Whoa, okay killer.” She plucks the phone out of my hand, caressing it gently.

Both Amber and Oscar were in on it. In each hand they carried a gallon of red liquid before Amber pulls out a key card for my door and opens it, both slithering in like snakes.

“Does everyone have a fucking key to my room?” I say between clenched teeth. River’s face pales and she shrinks back from my anger. I understand River’s need to have a friend, and I even appreciate it. Without her I would have no one, but a small part of me can’t help but to wonder if her having an all-access pass to my room started a trend.

Surveying my dorm, my bones grow weary. What am I going to do? Sleep in the tub? I haven’t looked in there. I don’t want to. The room pales compared to the disgusting thoughts that flood my mind. Everywhere I look, there is red liquid–pooling on the ground, seeping into the torn bed, and smeared across the countertops. Where do I even start? River stands with her hands in her hair, looking as perplexed as I feel.

There’s a part of me that thinks River is in on it. The timing of her arrival every time I have a problem or she’s already there. It could be the paranoia from the dean. It has to be. Blaming River for my bad luck isn't fair. She could easily say the same about me. I’m sure her life wasn’t this exciting before I came. I’m dragging her down with me.

“Why don’t you stay with me until your room is back in order?” she proposes. My eyes dart over to the floorboard that appears untouched. My stuff. I’ll check on my contraband and see if I can make room for my sister’s clothes in there.

“Just let me get some things and I’ll be right over.” I like River, but I hope we don’t tire of each other. 24/7 with anyone sounds like hell. She loves being around people and I need peace and quiet. Some things can’t change, no matter how hard you try.