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Instantly, I’m searching. Till my eyes land on the small inky lines of the black rose, one of the tattoos on the back of Knox’s hand. He looks aloof. Though under this tattoo the skin is stretched tight and white along his knuckles. I let myself focus solely on that, let it tether me like a liferaft to him.
There is no hope for this trial. There is no hope for my mother.
I’m so foolish. A young girl swept up in a world that is so much bigger than me. A world I don’t know a thing about.
Naive.
And I’m just now realizing, there’s no hope for me either.
Twenty-Six
Dee
The last thing I want to see is the brick estate of Mournmount Academy. I don’t want to see its perfectly clean lockers, or the hideous uniform, or hear the incessant ringing of the bell. Specifically though, I don’t want to see the students.
Their warm welcoming sneers, the jut of a foot meant to trip me, and the vile nickname Venereal Violet. Even if the boys are no longer trying to provoke me, at least not in the way they had, the students here have yet to get the memo.
I choose to ignore them. Step around them. Focus on anything else.
Nothing in this school feels the same upon my return. Before it felt like a cruel joke, a daily regimen of pain and taunting. Now it feels as if the school is too small for me, like I have outgrown it in a way. As if those three days in the dark, the days that followed with Ronan, and the game he’s playing with my mother has given me experiences no other student here could face.
So the halls feel short, the walls too close. Even this wretched uniform seems to cling to my curves a little too tightly.
After all that I’ve seen, all the practical jokes played on me, and the threat that makes me feel like my life is suddenly hanging in the balance, I somehow still end up in the stuffy office of our school’s counselor.
The walls are a crisp white. Once I would have loved that color, the farthest thing from the dark. Now it is too bright. I try not to squint. Hanging every few feet are posters with quotes that I suppose should be motivating.
It’s I CAN, not I CAN’T.
Mistakes are proof that I am always growing.
Reach for success.
Pardon me while I gag. Some people should be saying ‘they can’t’ more often, this school is made of people who can, could, and would. Again, and again, and again.
Give success a fucking break from time to time. It’s good for the soul, I promise.
Not everyone grows from their mistakes. My thoughts wander to my mother. Drugs are a constant battle for her. It was a mistake she made on repeat my entire life. Then there’s Reed’s mother. Her drinking problem that makes Reed think he’s doomed to live her same life.
And the last poster. Reach for success. Success has never felt more out of my reach. I never thought my dreams were too outrageous. Until now.
One. Graduate high school with a B average.
Two. Get a scholarship.
Three. Get a college degree.
That was it. That is as far as I planned. It seems so ridiculous now. There isn’t the time to bring my average up, thus no scholarship, which means I can’t afford college tuition. As for me being the daughter of the richest man in Paduka; he’s using me. And when he’s done with me...well when he’s done, I don’t know what happens next.
So what am I going to do with my life now?
What are you going to do, Violet?
“What are you going to do, Violet?”
The question repeats itself. The voice that says it louder, much louder than my meek thoughts. I blink. A tall woman with broad shoulders, short sandy blonde hair, and two very sturdy looking legs raises her eyebrows at me.
Oh yeah, the counselor, Miss Perry.
