by Rebel Hart
I scream and cry, kicking more violently, as I feel the distinct tug of a needle and thread working its way around the incision.
“Now, do yourself a favor and don’t bother trying to get it out,” he rants like a mad scientist at work. “It’s too deep. You’ll never get it on your own. And I don’t have to tell you what would happen if you were stupid enough to try and get someone to help you.”
“A doctor!” I protest. “I’ll go to a doctor! Whether they work for you or not, they’ll have to help me!”
Vivian laughs wildly from behind Emmett. “You go to a doctor whining about tracking devices being implanted in your skin and they’ll have you committed!”
With a painful pull of a knot followed by the snip of scissors, they loosen their hold on me. My hand reaches to feel the wound, but it’s just out of my reach. And the more I try to stretch around to it, the more everything hurts.
“That’s all for now,” Vivian chimes with a deceptively innocent smile, looping her arm into Emmett’s before turning on her heels to exit the classroom. Trey, Vincent and Bernadette follow closely behind.
Emmett flashes one quick subtle look over his shoulder in my direction, but it’s unreadable. And I can barely stand the sight of him right now with Vivian draped back over his arm like nothing happened.
My chest heaves in hyperventilation as they leave me struggling to regain some semblance of composure. I have given up on trying to feel my way around the implant in my shoulder. My uniform is still ripped and I’m covered in bruises. My shin has turned black from where Vivian’s foot struck against it.
What was Emmett thinking, standing up for me like that? It may have been subtle, but it was a bold move on his part. One that leaves me even more confused than before.
I wonder if Vivian will continue their conversation about me later. If she’ll ask him about what I implied over our private encounters. I’m just happy I managed to do something that got under her skin for once…no matter how briefly.
But none of that changes the spot I’m in now. Once again, I feel stupid for getting caught up in this high school romance drama over the same guy who is threatening my life, with his girlfriend by his side.
I look around the room in disbelief, blowing sharp breaths through my cheeks as my fingers press to my temples. I try to collect my thoughts.
All I gathered from our little encounter is that my deadbeat dad is somehow responsible for the entire nightmare. The hell I’ve endured since coming here is all because of him. And now I’m expected to do something to get him to respond to the Elites. What that is…I have no idea. Not only do I not know how to pull that off, but I don’t even know how much time I have or what it is he’s responding to.
Regardless of all that, now my every move will be tracked. No escape.
Fuck. I can’t imagine things getting much worse than this, but I’m learning not to even dare to think such a thing. Before I could so much as blink, the Elites would be rushing back in here to find some way to prove me wrong.
I try to shake it all away as I snake over to the doorway, peeking out to see if anyone is in the hall. If I thought anyone would help me, I’d march right out in front of them with my wounds and distress on full display. But knowing it’d be no use; I decide to try and sneak to the bathroom with at least a tiny shred of my dignity intact.
Once the halls are empty and silent with the last few stragglers disappearing around the corner, I limp across the scuffed floors in between the walls of lockers. I stare ahead resentfully, blazing right past the trophy case commemorating the Elite scum who built this school.
But something about the case of school accolades stops me. I turn to the sea of carefully pinned metals and plaques and study the framed photos for a moment, skipping across the black and white faces in vintage sports uniforms.
I locate Theodore Nickelson in a few different places. Just another face in the rows of other clean-cut young gentleman. Thomas Jameson and the other Elites usually only a few spots away from him. My fingers graze the glass that rests in front of his face.
“It’s easy to find you in pictures,” I mumble under my breath. “Now if only I knew how to find you in real life.”
A renewed surge of rage bolts through me as I consider how absurd it is that some man I’ve never even met is so influential on my life today. The contribution of his sperm aside, he’s had nothing to do with me…that I’ve known of. But now it seems his entanglement with the Elites didn’t end whenever he left town. It was still alive and well and fucking up everything in my life.
My hand falls back to my side as I turn to continue my listless walk to the bathroom. The classroom doors shoot past the corner of my eyes, one after another, but I keep my eyes glued to the floor, noting the random bits of food wrappers and crumpled papers. The janitor up ahead will work his way to these things by the time I’ve reemerged from the bathroom.
Nothing in this ridiculous school stays dirty for long…at least not on the surface. The smell of his mop solution wafts through the halls, mixing with the lingering food smells from the cafeteria, creating the most nauseating aroma.
As the adrenaline rushes from my body, leaving me cold and shaky, I half wonder if I’ll need to puke by the time I make it to the bathroom. I never was able to finish my lunch.
Aside from the nearby custodian, a few teachers make the trek between offices, classrooms and their lounge. Not a single one even bothering to notice how roughed up I am, much less stopping to ask if I’m okay. The occasional stray student I pass here and there ignores me just as adamantly.
I want to scream out, “Haven’t you heard!? The Elites won! They made their point! And now I’m working with them! You can admit that I exist again!”
It’s just as well. I’d rather not be seen in my current state. But then…
I feel a sudden hard tug to my side as another body pushes past.
“Watch where you’re going, cunt!” A guy spits at me as his shoulder bumps into mine.
Wow, I guess word does travel fast. Guess I’m out of exile after all. Which is a relief, but I don’t know if being held hostage as a bargaining chip in my father’s charades with the Elites is any better.
His choice of words are ironic, I think with a half-hearted chuckle to myself. I actually don’t have to watch where I’m going anymore. The Elites are doing that for me now.
The reality of it is daunting. Wherever I go, they can find me. There’s no escape now. No retreat. No hope of losing them. They can show up anywhere at any time and continue my torment.
For the first time, I notice all of the safety signs around the halls. Yellow a-frames cautioning for wet floors. Print outs alerting us what to do in case of fire, flood or tornado. Even a few posters warning of the dangers of unprotected sex and STDs.
But nothing that could have prepared me for any of this. Nothing that tells me what to do to stay safe from the Elites. And from my father.
Once inside the bathroom, I don’t even bother looking at my reflection before bending over the sink to take in handfuls of cold tap water. It’s stale, but anything is better than this dry, hot, iron taste. Toilets gurgle with refilling water behind me as I look across the pink soap specks dripping down the sink.
The simple task of washing my hands becomes meticulous and important. Any small little chore to make me feel in control. I move through the motions slowly and carefully.
Fucking absurd. I glance up just enough to notice my hair sticking out in every direction, matted into nests. My skin is blotchy and bruised around my bloody, ripped uniform. And here I am, washing my hands of all things, like it’s the most important thing in the world.
Get it together, Ophelia. You’re cracking. Don’t let them get to you.
When everything falls still and silent again and I’ve turned off the faucet, I hear the faintest whimper from the corner stall.
“Hello?” I call out timidly, convinced whoever it is won’t answer me anyway. I’m too newly released from
exile.
Two feet appear with a plop under the stall door as the lock slides slowly, faintly covering the sound of sniffles. Finally, the door opens, and I see Lilly standing there with black mascara circles under her bloodshot eyes. Her cheeks shine with wetness under the fluorescent lights.
As upset as she looks, I know I have to look worse. And I’m kind of glad. I can’t help but feel angry as I remember the way she ignored me right along with everyone else. I had my ass beat when I stood up for her, and she couldn’t be bothered to do the same for me in return. I hope my bloody and bruised image makes her feel remorse.
But she stands there frozen and blank, not saying a word, and I can’t tell if she’s angry with me or just afraid.
Chapter Fourteen
BOOK 1
The moment the Elites left me, I slowly sank into a pit of numb hopelessness. Too overwhelmed to fully feel anything. But now that Lily is standing in front of me, my heart surges with emotion. Hope. Maybe she can help. Whether she can or not, I need to talk to her. She’s the only one who can even begin to understand any of this.
I contemplate telling her everything. All that I’ve learned about my father and his ties to the Elites. How they think I am somehow their key to getting him to leave them alone.
I can feel the desperation rising too quickly in my hot chest. If I pounce on her like this when she’s already upset and hasn’t been speaking to me for over a week, she’ll shut me out. I have to tread lightly. Handle this carefully.
I calm myself down and focus. My hand reaches for the faucet again, turning it on to muffle my voice as Lily walks over to the row of sinks. Her movements are rigid, her head and shoulders pointed straight ahead as she tries to avoid eye contact with me.
“You ready to talk to me yet?” I offer, extending my hand to give her some paper towels.
She snatches the crumpled tissues from my hand, huffing toward the mirror without a word. “That’s the last thing I need to do,” she barks.
“Why? What are you talking about?” I ask, blotting my own bloody lips. “What did I ever do to you?”
“Oh, absolutely nothing, Ophelia,” she sings in a resentful, sarcastic hum. “You’ve only ruined my entire fucking life!”
“Whoa!” I smirk, too traumatized and desperate to feed into her misguided anger right now. “Do I look like someone who is ruining lives? Or isn’t it more accurate that my life is being ruined right alongside yours?”
My eyes cut over, watching her shake her head and scrub her hands furiously, muttering under her breath. I decide to try again, more gently this time as I reach out to place my hand to her shoulder.
“Come on, Lily. You know I’m on your side here…” the words purse my lips as I remember how she had very recently not been on my side, but I try to push down my bitterness. “We’re all just doing the best we can in this Elites hellhole.”
“They’ve ruined my life,” she sobs, blackening the same spots under her eyes she had just cleaned up. “Every college I had lined up for piano scholarships has rescinded their interest. I know those Elite assholes did this as punishment because I was nice to you.”
“I’m so sorry, Lily,” I blurt out, not even fully grasping the magnitude of the situation before the words spill out. I just want to say something…anything as fast as I can to comfort her.
I guess it shouldn’t be so surprising that people of their financial and social standing would have the power to sway such prestigious institutions. But it angers me the same way the cops and teachers around here do. Certain things should be above social sway. A girl’s entire education shouldn’t hinge on whether or not she’s in some rich teens’ good graces.
“I can’t believe they’d stoop so low,” I add, brushing my hand on her arm as she cries over the bathroom sink. “I mean…I guess I can. They’re monsters. But still….fuck.”
She doesn’t answer. I can see the lump in her throat and the tightness of her chest, and I know exactly how she feels. The Elites are especially skilled at reducing people to their lowest low. Taking away the things that matter most to them.
Or hitting your most sensitive nerves…as they are currently doing with my dad.
“My parents insist they can just send me to a West Coast school…somewhere far away. A place they maybe won’t be able to have an impact on,” she continues through her tears, her voice rasps in a way that only comes after several straight days of crying. “But I had my heart set on Julliard. Now that’s completely ruined.”
She slams a paper towel into the sink, but it catches in the air and lands with a disappointing lightness.
We’re silent for a few moments as I think over all of the new developments. I want to tell Lily what they’ve done to me. How they’re forcing me to help them negotiate some mysterious thing with my dad. But somehow, it doesn’t seem like it will help either of us right now. I worry it will only upset her even more. Though I do wonder if she may know something that could help me understand exactly what it is I’ve signed up for…even if I didn’t have much of a choice.
“Listen to your parents,” I encourage her softly. “The West Coast will be wonderful. You’ll be far away from all of this bullshit. I mean, just look at everything they’ve put you and your family through. Aren’t you ready to get away from it all?”
“Yeah and go running off to the other side of the country like a cowering dog,” she scoffs. “It’s exactly what they want.”
“Don’t think of it like that…”
“I wish you had never stepped in that day!” she snaps suddenly, turning her anger to me.
I recoil, thinking back on that day in the hall when they were covering her in trash. Her only offense was that she tried to help me. An unforgivable sin in their minds…which makes more sense now that I know they have some sort of vendetta against my father.
“I had to, Lily,” I defend, knowing it’s probably no use. “I couldn’t just stand back and watch them treat you that way any more than you could stand by and let them harass me without at least explaining who they were.”
I shiver at the memory of realizing Emmett was at WJ Prep…and that he was with the gang of offenders. That brief moment when I didn’t fully know what was going on. When I thought I was just lucky enough to end up at the same school as my biggest crush. The guy I thought I had met purely by accident, but now I know it was all set up.
“Well, we both should have kept to ourselves!” she shouts, crying harder and snapping me abruptly from those memories of Emmett.
“But I can’t imagine how I would have got through any of this without you,” I argue back, the idea of it causing my bottom lip to quiver.
Lily was the only thing keeping me sane at times. In fact, her shutting me out during my exile was what pushed me over the edge. That was what made it so unbearable.
“It wasn’t worth losing my dreams over,” she answers with a low groan, her face stilled with seething anger.
“Lily…there’s so much I want to tell you,” I hesitate, my hand frozen in midair. “You have no idea what’s going on. It’s so much worse than I thought.”
“I don’t care what’s going on with you, Ophelia! That’s what got me into this position in the first place!” she turns her shoulder to me, trying to be strong and cold. The way she wishes she would have been from the beginning.
“But don’t you see this is what they want!?” I persist. “If we let them isolate us and pull us apart then we don’t stand a chance. We have to stick together. I know what they did to you was terrible…but it’s not my fault.”
She whips back around, her eyes big and wild with anger. “The Elites were bored and done with me before you showed up. Now I’m one of their main targets again and have been ever since your first day. How is it not your fault!?”
“Because you know I would have stopped them if I could have. Just like I’m sure you would stop them from everything they’re doing to me if you could. But even if we can’t stop them…maybe we can at least
help each other cope with their wrath…” my voice trails off, breaking. More than anything, I just need someone to talk to, and I wish she would listen.
“There’s nothing to cope with anymore,” she says softly, her head shaking. “I’m being ran off to the other side of the country, and everything I’ve been dreaming of since I was a little girl has been taken away from me. I don’t care anymore. I just hope they’re done with me and talking to you will ruin any chance of that.”
“Lily, please…don’t shut me out. I need you more than ever now. Maybe if you can help me get to the bottom of this, we can undo some of the damage. Find some way to get them to take it back so you can go to Jilliard and…”
“Enough, Ophelia!” she cuts me off. “Just let it go, okay? Game over.”
“Please, Lily. You’re the only one I can trust,” I beg with tears streaming down my face.
I want to argue back more. Tell her to stop giving them so much power by giving up that easily. To stop letting them come in between us. Say again that by isolating ourselves out of fear, we only made it easier for them to fuck with us. But I can see she’s in no mood to fight back. They’ve completely broken her.
Just as I part my lips to speak, not even entirely sure of what else I can say, she snatches her purse and storms out. I know better than to try and follow her. The Elites can track my every move now, and it will only make things worse.
I watch despondently as she storms out, leaving me feeling more alone than I ever have before. Even during exile. Lily is even more against me now than she was before. Now there is no one I can trust. She is the only one who can understand and relate to what I’m going through and she hates me.
I try to fix myself up the best I can. Just enough to make it home without being questioned by my parents. On the way home, I drive recklessly, my music blasting. I need to feel the vibrations of the music. The rise and fall of my heart as I speed too quickly around each and every turn, accelerating more every chance I get.
