by J. L. Beck
I roll my eyes. “Everything he did was his own fault.”
“You’re safe there.”
“Even with the enemy’s son hot on my heels? He hates me, and so does everyone else. I’m afraid that one night something bad will happen.” I hate saying the words out loud, but it’s the truth, and it makes me wonder, am I really safer here than out there?
“The school has strict rules, one that even the Rossis can’t break. No one dies. He can’t touch you. Please just trust me. There is no safer place than that school.”
“I wish I could believe that.”
“I’m sorry, Aspen. I have to go, but I’ll call you in a few days to check in, okay?”
“Okay,” I agree even though all I want to do is throw the stupid laptop across the room, get on a plane, and fly home.
“Goodbye,” she says, and the call ends before I can reply.
The screen goes black, and I shut the laptop a little harder than necessary. I don’t allow myself a second to wallow in self-pity. Instead, I gather up my stuff once more and head out for the library. It’s the only place I can escape, where people leave me alone. It’s where I can sink into my work and read. Where I don’t have to worry about anyone humiliating me or pushing me around.
My haven.
After spending the rest of the afternoon in the library, I return to my dorm just after dinner. I stopped by the cafeteria on my way back and picked up a prepackaged sandwich. It’s expired by a couple of days, but it’s all they’ll allow me to have. Most days, I have to beg for food, which makes me feel like complete shit, and when they do give me something, it’s already expired, like my milk from breakfast the other day. I opened it to eat with some cereal and almost hurled at the smell. After that, I felt it was safer to drink water.
As soon as I reach my door, I know something is off, and the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. The door is cracked, and I’m certain I shut it before I left. Slowly, I approach the door, waiting for something or someone to jump out. After a minute of waiting, and when I don’t hear laughter or movement, I shove the door open with my foot and flick the light switch on.
No one jumps out or starts screaming, so I walk inside and shut the door behind me. A knot of worry tightens in my gut. I should’ve expected that someone would eventually try to sabotage my room. After all, it is the only place I can escape from all of them.
Placing my backpack on the floor and my books on the desk, I scan the room, looking for anything that might be missing or out of place.
Whoever it was came in here with an agenda; they wouldn’t risk breaking into my room without a purpose.
My gaze passes over the nightstand and then the bed, where I notice something red on the all-white comforter. Pulling the comforter back, I let out a shriek of terror because on my mattress is a dead rat, with a knife stabbed through its body.
My appetite evaporates into thin air, and all I can do is stand there staring at the dead animal and blood on my white sheets. I ball my hands into tight fists, anger overtaking the fear. I don’t need to think very hard to know who did this.
Quinton. He did this to mess with me, to hurt me. By giving me the blankets, he gave me a false sense of hope. He made me think that if I let him do what he wanted, he would help me, but what he really wanted was to hurt me, to make me look like an idiot.
Lava burns through my veins, and I rip the sheets from the bed and angrily toss them out into the hallway. Tears sting my eyes, but I blink them back, refusing to let a single one drop. I will not cry because of him. I will not show him how weak I am because that’s what he wants. Exhausted both mentally and physically, I curl up on the floor in the fetal position and stare at the door, wondering how I can get even with someone who is bigger than this university, bigger than my father, and far more dangerous than anyone I know.
If he wants a game, then he’s going to get one. It might be me versus everyone else, but if what my mother said is true—that no one can kill me here—then I’m at least safe from that. No matter what I do to get even, he can’t kill me.
I let my eyes fall closed with that thought in my mind. I have to find a way to take back my life.
11
QUINTON
Staring up at the ceiling from where I’m sprawled on my bed, I wonder how many days a few actually is? I’ve stayed away from Aspen for three days now, and the urge to go and find her is growing by the minute. I’m just not sure what I’ll do to her yet. All I know is that I need her in my grasp.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, interrupting my inner dialogue. Pulling the small device out, I find Scarlet’s smiling face lighting up the screen. I swipe to answer the video chat, and the live feed of Scarlet in her room pops up.
“Hi!” She greets me like seeing me is the most exciting thing that’s happened to her all day.
“Hey, what are you up to?” I ask, making conversation.
“Oh, the usual, being wild and rowdy. Got blackout drunk last night and had a bunch of guys over… I think they were bikers.” She taps her finger on her chin and scrunches her nose like she is thinking.
“Yeah, right.” I snort. “I’m sure the guards let them right in.”
“Oh, they party with us, and we had a stripper popping out from a cake!”
“Your imagination knows no bounds. You should write a book or something.”
“Hmm, maybe I will. Have to make it through high school first, though.”
“You’ll be fine. You’ll probably graduate way early.” Scarlet is only fifteen, but she’s skipped two grades already, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she started studying here before I was done. The idea of having my little sister here with me both excites and terrifies me.
“Yeah, you’re right. I totally will. What about you? How is school going? How is Ren? Did you guys make friends yet? Are the teachers nice?” She goes on, bombarding me with questions.
“Calm down. I’ll tell you everything.” I lean back against the headboard and start telling her about the school, what the classes are like, down to what the cafeteria serves. I don’t mention Aspen, and I’m not planning on doing so in the future.
“Q, you should really talk to Mom—”
“No.” I shake my head. “I’ll talk to her when she is ready to tell me the truth about my birth mother.”
“Q…” Scar gives me her best puppy dog eyes, and I already know I’m going to give in. “Don’t make her suffer because you are stubborn. You know she can’t go against Dad’s wishes. He doesn’t want you to know. Please, Q. Mom is really hurting, and I hate seeing her like that.”
“All right, stop with the guilt trip and get her on the phone.” The words have barely left my mouth when Scarlet is already up and running out of her room. I have to look away from the screen since the video is bouncing up and down, making my brain hurt.
“Mom! Mom! It’s Q,” Scar announces in excitement. “He wants to talk to you.”
Scar shoves the phone into Mom’s hand, and her face fills the screen. Her mass of strawberry blond hair is tied into a bun on top of her head, and her blue eyes clash with mine. I’m reminded instantly why I chose not to talk to them yet.
Just looking at her—the only mother I’ve ever known—is like pouring salt into an open wound.
“Quinton,” she whispers, almost like she can’t believe I’m here.
“Mom.” In my eyes, she is my mom and always will be; even if we don’t share DNA, we share more important stuff. Love. Memories—laughter, sadness, happiness, and pain.
Her pink lips form a smile. “How are you? How is school?”
“Everything is going good.” I try not to sound as tense as I feel.
She nods. “That’s good. Everything here is mostly the same.” She pauses before adding, “Your father and I miss you.”
“I doubt he does,” I bite out. If he missed me that much, he wouldn’t have sent me away without telling me the truth.
“He does… and I… since you left, I
feel like I’ve lost two children.” Her blue eyes get all misty, and it’s like a knife plunges into my chest at the image on the screen before me.
Fuck, now I feel like shit, and on top of that, guilty. I’ve been putting off talking to either of them, the anger and sadness still as fresh as the day I found out the truth, well, the partial truth.
“I’m sorry. I should’ve called and talked to you sooner. I don’t want you to worry about me. I just…” I trail off. Suddenly, avoiding her seems like nothing more than a tantrum. I was so fucking selfish to make her suffer just because of what my father did.
“It’s fine. I know you are grieving too, and then the other thing on top of that. It couldn’t have been easy to have your whole world turned upside down. I just want you to know it never mattered to me. I loved you all the same, and you will always be mine in my eyes.”
“You’ll always be my mom,” I murmur and look away from the camera, getting uncomfortable with the onslaught of emotions. “Can we talk about something else now?” I clear my throat, which feels constricted somehow.
“Yes.” Mom laughs, and the sound is like a warm blanket on a dark, chilly night.
“Tell me about classes. Are you learning anything?”
I give her the same washed-out response I gave Scarlet, which seems to satisfy her just the same. After a few more minutes of talking, my arm is already getting stiff from holding the phone in front of my face.
“I’m glad we got to talk. I really miss you, Q.”
“I miss you too, Mom. Talk soon.” She blows me a kiss, and I roll my eyes right before ending the video chat with a smile on my face. I already feel better, lighter now that I’ve talked to my mom. I could kick my own ass for not doing it sooner.
Tucking my phone back in my pocket, I’m about to head out the door when it opens. Ren appears on the other side, grinning at me from ear to ear.
“Did I just hear your mom’s voice in here?”
“Yeah, I talked to her.” I walk past him into our shared living space.
“I’m glad you did. How are they doing? How is Scarlet?”
“Well. She was even joking around with me today like she used to.”
“Good, I know she must be having a hard time with you gone. So many changes.”
“Yes, but she is resilient and strong.” Sometimes, I think she is stronger than me, but I don’t say that out loud. “Wanna head to lunch?”
“Yeah, sure.” Ren nods to the door, and we head out together.
When we reach the cafeteria, it’s packed. I know the school has about three hundred students. I feel like every single one is here. After we get our food, there isn’t a free table in sight, but as soon as we walk close to one, four guys grab their trays and get up to make room for us.
“Sometimes, being who you are has perks,” Ren points out as we sit down.
“I can’t deny that,” I say, picking up my fork.
I’m about to dig in when a voice cutting through the crowd makes me pause. I scan the room, and my eyes land on the petite girl with her blond hair pulled into a loose ponytail. I can’t make out what she is saying over the chatter in the cafeteria, but I can hear its high-pitched parts.
She is flailing her arms around like she is yelling at the person behind the counter. Suddenly, she spins and stomps away like she is about to tackle someone. Her face is flush, anger etched into her features, and her hands are balled up into tiny fists, ready to throw a punch.
Some guy shoulders her on the way, and I tighten the grip on my fork. She doesn’t even acknowledge the guy, simply steadies herself and keeps walking. She is almost at the door when yet another person rams a shoulder into her. This time, it’s a girl with short brown hair. She turns her nose up at Aspen, daring her to say something.
Aspen turns away from the girl and starts walking around her. That’s when her furious glare lands on me. I’ve never seen her eyes filled with so much hate and anger. Like a volcano ready to erupt, she stomps toward me like some kind of shieldmaiden ready for battle.
“Are you happy now?” she yells once she’s closer. There is so much venom in her voice, she barely sounds like herself.
She stops right in front of the table, and before I can even comprehend what is happening, she swipes my tray off the table. I’m only vaguely aware of the shocked gasps of people around me as I watch the tray together with my plate, drink, and dessert fly through the air and land with a loud crash on the ground beside us.
The whole cafeteria goes quiet, the only sound Aspen’s ragged breathing. “I. Fucking. Hate. You.” Each word drips from her lips with venomous rage. Her chest heaves, and she gives me one last withering look before she walks away. I watch her, stunned by the whole situation. No one shoulders past her this time. Instead, they step out of her way like she has some kind of disease they are worried they’ll catch.
“Does she have a fucking death wish?”
I hear Ren’s question, but I can’t manage a response. Dazed, I look around the room.
All eyes are on me. The same shock I feel reflects back at me wherever I turn. Still holding the fork, I gape down at the now empty table, then at the mess on the floor. Some of the staff are already starting to clean up the spilled food and broken plate. Trying their best to fix everything and make it look like it never happened, but I know better than anyone that there are things you can’t fix. I stare at the broken pieces of the plate as a memory weasels its way out of my mind.
Sitting on Adela’s bed, I cradle the picture frame between my hands like it’s a priceless artifact. Her smiling face beams back at me. At that time, she didn’t have a care in the world. Her big blue eyes were so full of life, her smile jubilant, her hair soft.
She had her whole life ahead of her, and now she is gone. Dead. My beautiful sister is gone. The room still smells of her, and maybe that’s why I like sitting in here. It makes me feel closer to her. Like she’s not really gone.
My grip on the picture frame tightens. It’s been two weeks, and my parents still haven’t made an announcement. No one even knows she’s gone besides us. Three days after she passed, we had a tiny private funeral for which I’m thankful for. I’m glad it was just us and not hundreds of people who really didn’t give a shit anyway. I didn’t want their pity or pretend apologies. People only cared when it benefited them, and someone would ultimately use the gathering as a way to form an alliance or strike a deal.
I’m glad he didn’t let that happen, but I still don’t understand why he’s keeping it a secret. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised knowing that he has been keeping all kinds of truths hidden. But not acknowledging that she’s gone enrages me more than anything.
Did she matter so little to him? Does he not want to honor her memory?
So many unanswered questions are running through my mind, and the worst of it all, I don’t think I will ever get answers to them.
Placing the picture back on the bedside table, I get up, ready to leave the room when a loud crashing sound comes from downstairs. One minute, the house is completely silent; the next, all hell breaks loose.
Men are yelling, shots are fired, my sister and mother are screaming, and I panic and run out into the hallway, needing to get to them. I can’t lose anyone else. I’ll die before I do.
I don’t make it but one step out of Adela’s room before I’m tackled to the ground and pushed to the floor face-first.
“Get the fuck off me!” I throw back my elbow at my attacker, but he doesn’t budge.
My face is turned toward the open door, a knee pressed into my back as I’m helplessly forced to watch four men in tactical gear enter my dead sister’s room. The letters FBI are written on the back of their bulletproof vests.
What the hell are the feds doing here?
That question disappears into thin air as the four men start to tear apart Adela’s room.
“No! Leave her stuff alone!” I yell over the noise, but no one is listening. They tear off her bedsheets and flip over
her mattress, knocking down the picture frame in the process. Carelessly, they walk all over her stuff, not looking where their heavy boots are landing. I can feel tears building in my eyes. My anger is so profound it’s all I can feel.
I might be my father’s son, but I have a heart, and it beats proudly for my family. One of them steps on her picture, the glass crunching beneath his foot, and the sound penetrates my heart. In a haze of despair and fury, I watch as they destroy her room. Tainting all of her stuff… the only thing I have left of her.
“Hey, you okay?” Ren’s voice drags me back to reality. I shake away the memory, but I can’t shake away the feelings it brought on. The loss of control, the pain, the agony of watching the last memories you have of someone being ripped to pieces.
Pain echoes through my chest with every beat of my heart. Will I ever be okay?
I think of Aspen, and that only intensifies my rage. I know it’s not her fault, that it’s her father’s, but that doesn’t change anything, not in my mind.
To me, she’s the enemy, and the stunt she just pulled put a bright red X on her back. Aspen will suffer the consequences of her actions because not only will I not be seen as weak in front of my peers. I won’t let her think for a second that she has a chance at winning control over her life back.
12
ASPEN
I’m so fucking hungry, I could cry. I’m not particularly fond of only eating what’s left from the day before, but expired food is better than no food. When the guy behind the counter told me there were no leftovers, and I couldn’t get anything, I lost it.
The mixture of painful hunger, lack of sleep, burning anger, and humiliation was too toxic to be held in. My only regret is letting it out on Q. Not that he didn’t deserve it, but I know making a scene in front of the entire school will cost me. He will not let that go. He’s going to retaliate, and I’m not sure if I’m ready for it.
Ignoring the emptiness in my stomach, I pull the hood from my sweatshirt over my head and go to the only place at this university I actually feel safe.