Within the Walls of Kingsbury Prep
Page 16
Be with me always–take any form–drive me mad.
I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul!
Her love never fierce; it was deep and tender
She was a happy creature, and an angel
My mind fills with confusion as I read line after line of my favourite book from a new point of view, my mind transported to a time long ago at the tree.
“What are all these coloured tab thingys for?” He runs his finger across the multiple coloured tabs sticking out from the top of my book.
“They each stand for something different. For example: yellow is parts I love, funny parts are tagged in pink, blue equals sadness obviously, etc. It’s just something I like to do as well as highlight my favourite lines and passages.” I show him the various sections of yellow throughout the novel.
“What a nerd,” he mocks me light-heartedly. I glare at him but can’t help to smile.
I thought it was obvious he didn’t care for me but seeing the yellow beams stroking the page makes me wonder if I’m mistaken. I place the book back on his bed, something catching my eye on his desk. Next to his bed are the cufflinks I bought him, placed neatly in front of a framed photo of us at the Ball. His hand round my waist, his emerald eyes sparkle as they look at me. A smile on his chiselled face as he laughs at my goofy face. The same photo I have for his contact. Seeing things that must remind him of me close together, close to his bed, makes me angry. If he thought enough about me to highlight passages in my favourite book, surely, he thought enough about me to know I wouldn’t betray him. How could he treat me like that? My grip tightens round the photo before I throw it on the floor, the glass shattering into tiny pieces. I grab a post-it note from his desk and scribble him a note before placing it on the shards of glass.
Just like my heart.
I take one last look round his room before leaving. What was I thinking, coming here? Did I think it would help? Even if I saw him, what would I have said to him? I should just leave before he gets back, or God forbid his father. I descend the first flight of stairs silently, hoping not to disturb Marissa. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, I notice a study down the end of the corridor.
If I’m going to find anything else about this society, I’m going to find it there. I think to myself. I tiptoe down the hallway, pausing behind the study. A beam of light shines from under the door. Someone is in there. I debate leaving but then hear a very odd noise coming from inside the room. My curiosity getting the better of me, I gently crack open the door.
In the centre of room is a large oak desk, much like the one in Foundry’s office but instead of an array of papers sprawled out on the desk, it is Professor Montgomery and he’s not alone. His front is facing me, though he doesn’t see me as his hands roam all over a skinny brunette. Her manicured nails get tangled in his hair as he lets out a deep moan. His meaty fingers grip at her waist as he flips the position. The brunette now on the desk, Montgomery with his back to me. The girl wraps her legs round the professor’s waist as he fumbles clumsily at the buttons on her shirt.
I don’t know how long I’ve been stood here watching this crude exchange but I’m frozen: I can’t move. The girl flips her hair to the side, allowing access to her neck as though Montgomery a blood sucking vampire and her his willing prey. As she flips her hair, I notice the blonde highlights. Charity. As if to answer my suspicion, Charity looks up at that exact moment and makes contact with me.
“Oh God,” Charity says, her eyes wide. Montgomery hums in agreement, thinking she means what he’s doing is successful.
I continue to stare at Charity, my shocked face imitating hers. “Shit,” escapes my lips before I can stop it. Montgomery pulls away from Charity and turns his head slowly in my direction.
I slam the door and stumble backwards down the corridor, bumping into something hard and fleshy. I feel a hand round my neck and a piece of fabric pulled over my head.
Darkness.