Dollface (Willow Hill University #1)

Prologue

The beep-beep-beep of the monitors won’t stop. It’s in the room. In my head. I can’t tell the difference anymore. I stare out the hospital window at the ocean. Endless dark water, moving even when I wish it wouldn’t.

None of this feels real. Not the pain. Not the way my body feels wrong, like it doesn’t belong to me anymore. Not the silence sitting in my throat. But the one thing that is real?

I want them dead.

Every single one of them.

Maybe it’s a good thing they put me under surveillance.

If I could walk out of here right now, there wouldn’t be a person alive who could stop me from finding each of them and making them pay.

I never thought I was capable of murder, but with the right circumstances—under enough pressure, pushed in just the wrong way—anyone is capable.

I sink deeper into the hospital bed. The incessant beeping of the monitors pounds in my ears. Chatter from somewhere down the hall bleeds through the walls, and the camera in the corner watches my every move. None of it stops the thoughts swirling in my mind.

I think about how I would kill them and get away with it.

I don't want to go to jail for justice. That would just be a waste of time. Instead, I plan. My fingers curl into the thin blanket as I contemplate my best course of action. There’s the obvious: a knife or a gun. Guns are too loud and leave a mess of evidence.

Nix.

A knife could work, but…it would be hard to frame that as an accident.

Nix.

I let out a small, thoughtless sound into the empty, dark room.

A pen would be easy if I hit an artery. It would take between three and five minutes for the person to bleed out. Downfall: could be messy, and how would I spin that? They slipped and landed neck-first, perfectly hitting their carotid?

Nix.

Oh, I have it. I could push them down a flight of stairs. I think I saw that in a documentary once. Tragic fall. Oh no. I roll my eyes, causing a sharp pain to lance through my skull.

Sneaking out of the building undetected and getting back in with an alibi will be difficult.

After today, I’ll be the first person they’ll look at.

Not only do the police not believe me, but they also think I’m unstable.

As if what happened could make anyone stable. I huff, and it turns into a wince.

Fine. No violence.

“Lyra…” I don’t move my head. Instead, I only shift my eyes to the door, where James stands, backlit by the hallway lights.

“I thought I wasn’t allowed visitors since I’m a danger to myself.”

James keeps his voice low. “I bribed the nurses.”

Well, if it’s that easy to bribe the nurses…No, Lyra, stop it!

Before this, I wasn’t a violent person. Hell, I wasn’t even confrontational. I was laid-back, easygoing—I was the girl who laughed everything off. Now I feel cynical.

Broken.

“I’m not going to kill myself,” I tell my brother as he steps into the room, shutting the door behind him.

“I know you’re not. It’s fucking ridiculous. They did this…” He makes a small, choked sound, his gaze flicking to the camera in the corner, before returning to me. “Dad’s already working on it.”

“Why are you here?” I ask.

“Because you’re my sister.” He steps closer to the bed, still in his scrubs; I wonder if he’s leaving or just starting his shift. “And I needed to see you myself.”

“I’m fine.” Just sitting here contemplating murder. But I don’t tell him that. He’ll worry even more than he already is. Then he’ll proceed to keep me locked away for even longer than I already am.

I keep my eyes on the window, that sense of numbness spreading over me.

“Sure,” he says, but he doesn’t believe me for a second. He sits on the edge of my bed, careful not to jostle me. “Can you look at me?”

I turn my head slowly, meeting his eyes. “You will get through this.” His tone leaves no room for argument, though I wouldn’t give him one.

“I know,” I whisper, even if in this moment that feels impossible.

He nods, glancing at the IV, then at the monitor, returning to my face. “How can I help?”

How can he help? I don’t even know what I need, and that scares me more than the pain. I feel hollow. Like something inside of me cracked, and only fragments are left floating in the nothingness. I’m stuck watching the aftermath from behind my own eyes.

The worst part is that I don’t remember everything that happened. I’m missing moments, and the harder I try to recall those pieces of unconsciousness, the more I think my mind is purposely making me forget.

The detective’s voice still plays on a loop: No evidence at the scene, maybe it was a prank.

Like the word “prank” is supposed to stitch me back together.

If it was nothing, then why am I in a hospital bed with stitches after surgery?

Why did I wake up without my pants on, wetness between my thighs, and an ache I know shouldn’t have been there?

I give James a teasing smile, hoping to put him at ease. “Sneak me out?”

“I wish I could. Hell, you’d already be gone if it were up to me.”

I swallow, my throat burning. “Do you believe me?”

Horror washes over his face. “Don’t even ask me that.

” His voice rises. “You’re not just my sister.

You’re my best fucking friend.” He taps his chest once.

“I found you, Lyra. Unconscious. Bleeding. Me.” His throat works as he tries and fails to regulate his breathing.

“So, whatever you’re thinking, stop trying to carry it alone. ”

I can’t look at him anymore. If I see all that guilt and sorrow on his face for one more second, I’ll crumble, and now’s not that time.

“You should go before the bribe wears off.” When I get home, that’s when I can lose it, but not now.

Not while people are watching through that fucking camera, waiting for my breakdown.

James reluctantly stands, squeezing my hand once. He checks the monitor, straightens the blanket over my legs, then pauses at the door. “I love you, Lyra.”

“Love you,” I call back. The lock clicks as I stare at the ceiling, trying to breathe through the ache in my ribs and the pressure in my eyes. I tell myself to sleep. I tell myself this is over. If I’d known it was only the beginning, I wouldn’t have closed my eyes.