Alamort

37. Priya

T he morning mist hangs heavy in the air, lending an extra dose of eeriness that adds a deep chill in my bones. The forest surrounding the dorms and school seems like something out of a horror movie. Dense, tangled trees and ominous silence. Something is lurking, ready to snatch us from this life. Obviously, I mean me personally, because no one else seems to feel that way. Students chatter happily on the way to Theodore Hall for breakfast, as if the world was completely at peace.

There are people struggling to make ends meet? Not a problem here. We use money to wipe our asses.

World hunger? Not us, we never go hungry.

The thought of food instantly triggers my stomach to growl. I raise my water bottle to my parched lips, drinking greedily to soothe the relentless ache of hunger.

The effects of not eating are taking a toll on me. I’m always tired, but now I’m waking up tired. The cold I usually feel might be because of the change in weather from California, but it’s like an ongoing desire for warmth. I don’t want to inconvenience River by constantly adjusting the heat in her room. I’m already always there.

She is without a doubt the ideal roommate someone could hope for. We have established a schedule over the last three days. She still doesn’t understand boundaries because whether I’m peeing or showering, she’s telling me a story or rambling about her day. It distracts me from my emptiness, mostly.

My room is supposed to be complete today, so I can reclaim a little privacy. There is no mention of any improvements to the locks or security measures. Amber and Oscar are still walking around with a sense of superiority, noses stuck in the air. Either way, the space and isolation will be a welcome reprieve, a cool-down period. It’s been a whirlwind of events since I set foot in this place.

River pulls out my chair for me at our table.

“Thank you, kind sir.” I say in jest.

Her smile stretches from one cheek to the other, lighting up her entire face. “Someone has to do it. None of these assholes would be caught breaking a nail.”

River’s voice trails off as her eyes wander over to the breakfast buffet. The one I’ve stopped going to because the chefs interfere and give me a piece of fruit instead of eggs Benedict, Belgian waffles, or French toast. Another swig of water for the hunger.

“What?” I ask River, who is uncharacteristically quiet.

“I don’t know… Something seems off.”

I stiffen. Off like Amber and Oscar? Off like the Demons? There are a lot of things that can be “off”.

“Behind the buffet, there’s a projector. That’s never been there before.” The need to run away overwhelms me. I’m ready to bolt. I cast a worried glance over my shoulder, noticing the Demons. My stomach clenches tight at the meaning of their sudden interest in breakfast.

Could it be from breaking Crew’s phone? I retaliate one time and they’ve rained hell down on me.

“River, I want —”. Before I’m able to tell River I want to leave, Bennett heads up to the projector that’s lit up a neon blue on the wall. His walk is calm and confident, his hair a tousled dark mess. The front buttons of his school uniform unbuttoned and his tie nowhere in sight. Not surprising considering the Demons’ law is the only law.

River sits in a stupor, pulling me closer to her. She gently pries my clenched hand open, intertwining her fingers with my sweaty one.

“Good morning, Cox Academy!” His charismatic voice booms throughout the room, bringing every conversation to a stop. He playfully winks at the group of girls closest to him, sending them into a fit of giggles, like the schoolgirls they are. I’d roll my eyes, but they’re glued to Bennett Demonio’s face.

“Sorry to interrupt everyone’s lovely morning. We thought a brief presentation would wake everyone up.” He looks at Saint, who clicks something on his phone and the screen changes. My breath hitches, getting stuck in my throat. My heart stutters, the color drains from my face when I see the tamed curls of honey colored hair and the same baby blue eyes that our father has. I avert my gaze from the person I’ve spent over half of a year avoiding staring at.

“A show of hands. How many people in here know who this well-known daughter is?” Mostly everybody’s hands shoot up in the air. He points at Amber Astor to answer.

“Addison Carter.”

Bennett snaps his fingers and points at her.

“Right you are! Addison Carter died in December. Does anyone know how?”

Everyone murmurs at the latest news. No hands go up. No one knows my sister is gone. The sound of her name spoken aloud sends waves of spears shooting through my chest. A punch in the chest, worse than when my father would hit me. The thought of hearing these despicable people mention my flawless sister’s name is so unbearable that I would rather crawl on my knees and endure the humiliation of my collar any day.

“No? Not surprising.” His face is the perfect picture of sorrow, but I don’t for a second believe he cares about her or her death.

“In December, before winter break last year, there was a fire at her school. It was said to be so out of control that even the firefighters couldn’t control it.” My vision blurs with tears that threatened to spill over. The rigidity of my spine softens as my shoulders curl in on themselves, knowing the vise that gives me a sense of relief has taken the one person I value most in the world, my sister. “They had to let it die down before seeing if there was anything left of the people inside. Two people died that day.” River’s hand squeezes mine in comfort but fails. “Another student and Miss Carter. Now, people, if we put two and two together, we can surmise that none other than Addison Carter’s sister, Priya Carter,” He points at me, his dark eyes shining with hatred so palpable I can taste the bitterness on my tongue, “is here. Our little Pyro Carter, if the psychologist was right.”

“Murderer!” someone yells.

“She killed her own sister!”

“Pyro Carter!”

“Couldn’t take the heat of being second best, I bet.”

The thundering rhythm of my heartbeat overshadows the relentless barrage of taunts and insults. Dizziness overtakes me, the world blurs and fades from my view. Pressure closes in around me, a tingling sensation on my face. While the rest of my body stays numb. A hand rubs up and down my back while whispering.

“Breathe, Priya.” I want to scream that, “I’m trying!” but nothing comes out. I need to get out of here.

Nothing these people are shouting at me isn’t things I haven’t told myself daily. This all-consuming guilt I live with. I hate myself more than they ever could. They think I don’t wake up every morning wishing I was dead? The only reason I haven’t done the job myself is for my sister. All of this is for her.

Old wounds are reopening, the gashes pouring into my misdeeds and wrongdoings that swirl around in my head.

It should’ve been me.

My legs buckle as I stand to run out of the Hall. The edges of my vision darken before completely taking over.