The Bleak Beginning (Altair University #1)

25. Alex

Chapter 25

Alex

I ’m lying in bed when there’s a gentle knock at my door. I’m already awake; the sound of raindrops against my window followed by a loud thunderclap had stirred me from sleep just minutes ago.

As I rise from my bed, I make my way to the door and notice a flyer stuck to the outside, much like the one I saw in the mailroom the other day. The page is decorated in gold and black, with directions for where all of the parents will gather to meet their children this weekend.

I consider tossing it in the garbage. After all, I didn’t expect anyone to show up for me on parents’ weekend.

But something stops me. Maybe it’s the lingering remnants of the masquerade, or the eerie atmosphere created by the storm outside. I find myself folding the flyer and slipping it into my pocket after I finish getting dressed for the day.

I open my umbrella and descend the steps of my dorm, making my way across campus toward the listed location. My main focus is to stay dry as I trudge through the rain, hugging my jacket tighter around me. It’s not until I arrive at the designated meeting spot outside the old natatorium that I realize how deserted campus feels. It’s strange that we’re supposed to meet here, but I don’t question it and simply shrug my shoulders as I step inside.

The familiar scent of chlorine and damp air hits me as I enter the natatorium. The cavernous space echoes with the soft patter of rain on the roof and the occasional rumble of distant thunder.

I scan the small hallway, expecting to see other students or perhaps some staff members, but the place appears deserted.

As I step through the second set of doors, I sense someone behind me. I whirl around just in time to see Bishop and the rest of the Legacies on the other side of the glass. His dark eyes lock onto mine with a heated intensity.

The other three wore expressions as varied as the colors of a chameleon. Camden’s predatory gaze burns with excitement, mirroring Bishop’s malicious smirk. Sutton fidgets, vibrating back and forth on her feet while Sylvester stares at me with a chillingly neutral expression, hiding his true emotions behind a mask of calm.

“Enjoy parents’ weekend,” Bishop says with a mocking wave of his fingertips and sinister chuckle, his voice muffled through the glass. The lock’s click echoes through the room, its sound abrupt and final.

My heart races as I frantically try the door, but it’s no use. I pound on the glass, shouting at them to let me out, but they simply stand there and watch me struggle. I’m trapped. The realization hits me like a bucket of ice water: this wasn’t the meetup place for parents. It was a setup from the start.

A deafening piano melody suddenly pierces the air behind me, each note striking my heart with a force that leaves me breathless. Its melodic notes pulse through my body and send my chest into overdrive. My anxiety spikes as I recognize the intricate piece, a skill that only one person I know possesses. The notes swirl around me like a tempest, reminding me of my own inadequacies and failures in mastering such complexity.

I spin around, my heartbeat pounding in sync with the haunting melody. There, perched at a grand piano that seems to have materialized in the center of the empty pool, sits my mother. Her fingers dance across the keys with practiced grace, her eyes closed, as if lost in the music.

“How are you here?” I snap, my voice full of tension yet barely audible over the crescendo of notes.

She doesn’t respond, doesn’t even open her eyes. The music swells, filling the natatorium with eerie beauty. I take a step toward her, then another, drawn by an inexplicable force until I meet the bottom of the empty pool where the slant comes to a flat halt.

I’m stuck, caught between the Legacy members and this ghostly apparition of my mother. The chlorine scent somehow intensifies down here, stinging my nostrils, making me dizzy.

She’s wearing a dress in the same deep shade of plum as the one she wore the last time I saw her, three years ago. However, this one has a high neckline and flows loosely to her ankles.

“How did you get out?” I growl, my voice laced with anger and confusion.

Still no response. The pulsing music echoes around us, taunting me. Her lack of answer only fuels my frustration and fear.

“Answer me, Vera,” I demand, a surge of adrenaline coursing through my veins as I try to understand how she managed to break free from her behavior health facility.

The keys abruptly come to a halt, the echoes reverberating through the abandoned pool room. The once graceful and fluid notes of the piano are frozen in a moment of harsh dissonance, as if startled by my words. “That’s mom to you.”

I feel a chill run down my spine at her words. The familiarity of her voice, tinged with that condescending tone I know all too well, makes my stomach churn.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” I say, my voice trembling despite my efforts to stay calm. “You’re supposed to be—”

“Locked away?” she finishes for me, finally opening her eyes. They’re the same piercing blue I remember, but there’s something different about them now. Something colder, more calculating. “Is that what you were going to say, sweetheart?”

“What’s going on?” I demand, taking a step back. “How did you get here?” I couldn’t shake the sickening feeling that I already knew the answer to my question. The Legacies, who’d imprisoned me in this place, were most likely the culprits. But I needed to ask anyway, desperate for some sense of truth and closure for myself.

“It’s parents’ weekend,” she says with a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “And I couldn’t miss the chance to see my darling daughter perform.”

My blood runs cold. “Perform?” My laughter is hollow. It’s been years since I last played, since I made the decision to stand up for myself.

She stands up from the piano bench, her movements fluid and graceful, like I remember. “Don’t play coy, dear. You know exactly what I mean. Your big debut. The moment you finally prove yourself worthy of the family name.”

I take a step back, my heel hitting the start of the incline of the pool. “I’m not performing anything.”

“Of course you are,” she says, her voice taking on that sickly sweet tone she always used when she was about to deliver a crushing blow. “Your appearance looks good. Your outfit matches today, your hair, on the other hand, could use some work. A brush perhaps?”

I instinctively reach up to touch my hair, then immediately chastise myself for falling into her old patterns. “My hair is fine,” I say firmly, dropping my hand. “And I’m not performing. I’m done with all of that, Vera.”

She gives me a sharp look as I address her by her first name, but “mom” doesn’t feel like a fitting title anymore.

It had been three years since I finally stood up for myself and stopped letting her trample all over me. But now here she was again, invading my space like a relentless parasite. She had no place in my life anymore, and certainly not here at Altair. Her presence felt like a sharp, jagged intrusion on the life I had worked so hard to rebuild.

“Your skills haven’t faded since you left,” I observe, handing her a sincere compliment she had never given me, even if it ended up slightly backhanded like hers. “Either you’ve been sleeping very well or you’ve been skipping your medication.”

I used to hope for an apology, a small sliver of remorse for the pain and suffering she had caused me. But deep down, I knew better than to ever expect one from her. How could someone who never saw their own wrongs admit fault? It was like trying to squeeze blood from a stone, a futile and agonizing task that only left me feeling more broken.

Her eyes narrow at my comment, a flicker of something—anger? Amusement?—passing over her face. “Oh, sweetheart,” she purrs, taking a step closer. “You always were so observant. It’s one of the things people could admire about you.”

I resist the urge to step back, forcing myself to stand my ground. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Didn’t I?” She tilts her head, a coy smile playing on her lips. “I suppose old habits die hard. But then again, so do daughters who refuse to live up to their potential.”

Her words hit me like a physical blow, bringing back memories of countless arguments, tears shed in the privacy of my room, and the constant, crushing weight of her expectations. I clench my fists, willing myself not to show how much she still affects me.

“I can’t believe they actually let you through the gates,” I seethe.

Her eyes lack the warmth and tenderness that all mothers are supposed to have. “Well, you know I was a student here, just like you.”

My world tilts on its axis. “What?” I manage to choke out, my voice barely above a whisper.

She folds her arms, her lips pressed tightly together. “Did you think I just popped into your life one day? I was here. I went to this university.”

I shake my head in disbelief. “But... neither of you ever mentioned this. Dad always told us he met you while he was doing his internship, and you were—” I stop myself, the pieces starting to unravel in my mind. “How could you have gone to school here? He always said you were working across the street in a music store...”

There’s a lot you don’t know,” she says, her tone flat, almost like she’s trying to brush it off.

I step back, my chest tightening. “How much more don’t I know?” I demand with a snarl.

Vera’s smile widens, a predatory gleam in her eyes. “Well, I was the first in my family to pass .”

Pass? What exactly does she mean by that? And why did she sound slightly bitter about it?

I struggle to process this new information. My father told me Altair would be my fresh start, my escape, but it was tainted by her presence long before I arrived. The realization makes me feel sick, like I had somehow been duped into attending.

“You’re lying,” I accuse, but even as the words leave my mouth, I know she’s telling the truth. It explains too much—how she found me, how she got onto campus. The Legacies still helped I’m sure, but she’d known where to go.

“Now, now,” she chides, wagging a finger at me, like I’m a child again. To her, I would always be a child if she had it her way—someone easy to control. Manipulate. “Lying is beneath us, isn’t it? But when it comes to you, I’m not surprised. You, Alexandra, always did have a penchant for deceit,” Vera continues, her voice dripping with condescension. “It’s why you never reached your full potential.”

I feel a fresh surge of anger coursing through me, threatening to boil over. But I won’t give her the satisfaction of seeing me lose control. Instead, I exhale sharply, centering myself.

“My potential is none of your concern anymore,” I say, my voice steady. “And neither is my life.”

I scan my surroundings, hoping this will be over soon. Above me, near the empty pool, I notice several large instruments and other musical paraphernalia strewn about. It seems that someone must have brought them here, which may explain how the piano ended up in this unlikely location. And in the opposite corner, I see the same cement mixer that was here the last time I stumbled upon this place.

Hadn’t Aubrey mentioned something about the Actor’s Guild and the orchestra sharing space?

“Listen,” I demand. “I don’t care who you had to deceive to get here, but I want you to leave.”

“Deceive? I was invited.”

“Invited?” I scoff, disbelief coloring my tone.

Vera’s smile turns enigmatic. “You really don’t know anything about this place, do you? About its true nature.”

There’s something in her voice, a hint of dark knowledge that makes me uneasy. I’ve always known Altair was more than just a prestigious school, but the way she says it…

“What are you talking about?” I demand, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice.

She takes another step closer, and I retreat nearly back to the top of the pool.

“Alexandra, Altair is more than just a school,” she says, her voice serious and intense. “It can consume you and discard you, if you’re not careful. The whole thing is a challenge, a test. And only those who truly figure out their purpose will succeed.”

“So that’s how you ended up losing your mind?” I ask, genuinely curious.

“My doctors seem to think I’ve actually improved over time,” she responds with a hint of pride. Typical.

I scoff. “Whoever was fooled by your facade must not know how truly manipulative you are.”

“Well, since your father divorced me so suddenly, I’ve learned to be quite persuasive when necessary,” she replies with a sly smile.

It wasn’t an abrupt decision on his part, and it happened after everything had already gone down between her and I. It was one of the rare moments where I saw my dad stand up for himself. He usually stayed out of it when it came to how she treated us, either locked away in his office or traveling for work.

I feel a mixture of anger and pity wash over me. “Dad didn’t ‘suddenly’ divorce you. He finally saw you for who you really are.”

Vera’s eyes ignite with fury, her gaze burning holes through me. “Your father is a pathetic weakling. He crumbled under the weight of expectations, but you, Alexandra…you have potential beyond measure. You could’ve propelled our name to stardom in the music world.”

It was always about her and how she could benefit from manipulating me.

“I don’t want to be anything you could or couldn’t be,” I say firmly. “I’m my own person, with my own dreams and goals. And none of them involve living up to your warped expectations.”

She laughs, a harsh, brittle sound that echoes off the tiled walls. “Did you know Magnus never even wanted you? I was the one who fought for you, I wanted to keep you. And this is how you repay me?”

My breath catches in my throat at her words. I feel as if I’ve been slapped. The words hang in the air, heavy and poisonous. A part of me wants to believe it’s just another one of her manipulations, but the cruel glint in her eyes tells me it’s the truth. Or at least, her version of it.

No. I can’t let her manipulate me like this. I’ve fallen for her lies too many times before.

“You’re twisting things again,” I say, my voice shaking slightly despite my best efforts.

Vera’s smile is cruel. “He learned to love you, yes. But initially? You were just another complication in his life. Another problem.”

“That doesn’t change anything,” I manage to say. “Even if that’s true, it doesn’t excuse how you treated me.”

Vera’s smile turns predatory again. “But that changes everything, doesn’t it? You’ve always clung to the idea that your father was your protector, your defender. But he was just as flawed, just as weak as you are.”

My jaw tightens, and my hands tremble with the urge to strike something. “Stop it. Just stop.”

“Why?” she asks, her tone mockingly innocent. “Can’t handle the truth? You always were so sensitive.”

I stand back at the top of the empty pool, my pulse pounding. There’s nowhere left to retreat. Vera’s words echo in my head, each one a dagger aimed at my deepest insecurities. But I won’t let her see how much they’ve affected me. I won’t give her that satisfaction.

“You’re wrong,” I say, forcing steel into my voice. “About Dad, about me, about everything. You don’t know us anymore. You lost that right when you chose your delusions over your family.”

Vera’s eyes narrow, a rare flicker of something—anger? hurt?—passing across her face before it’s replaced by that infuriatingly smug smile. “Alexandra. Still so naive. You think you know everything, don’t you? But you’re just scratching the surface.”

My heart skips and stumbles in panic as I frantically scramble around the edge of the pool, desperate to escape this place. The door is still locked, trapping me here with no way out. Panic sets in as I realize there are no signs of the Legacies anymore, leaving me completely alone and vulnerable.

As I frantically search for an escape, my eyes land on the cement mixer in the corner. A desperate, risky idea forms—it’s all I have. I could hit her with it… maybe knock her out with a bag of cement?

I glance up at the walls around me—all glass. It would be tempting to break one and escape, but the glass is so thick. I'm not sure it would even shatter.

“You’re right, Vera,” I say, forcing a calm I don’t feel into my voice. “There’s a lot I don’t know. About Altair, about Dad, about you.”

Her eyebrows raise, surprise momentarily replacing the smugness on her face. I take a tentative step toward her, away from the pool’s deep edge.

“You can’t run from this, Alexandra,” she says, her voice eerily calm as she continues to stalk me around the room. “You can’t run from who you are. Your father tried, but you ended up back here. This place is its own form of prison.”

The air feels thick, oppressive, as if the very room is closing in around me. There’s something in her words, a hint of truth that terrifies me more than her presence. But I push the thought away, focusing on the immediate threat.

“You don’t know anything about why I’m here,” I spit. “And you certainly don’t know me anymore.”

Vera laughs, the sound echoing off the empty walls. “Ah, but I do. I know because I lived it, just like you.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” I say firmly, trying to keep my voice strong. She has no clue about the constant humiliation I’ve endured since arriving here. From the embarrassing assembly my first week to nearly drowning and being forced to sleep in a storage closet for a few nights, being accused of stealing, it seems like every turn holds some new form of ridicule for me. But she doesn’t know any of that.

“Don’t I?” Vera’s eyes glint with a dangerous knowledge. “The humiliation, the isolation, the constant feeling that you’re one step behind everyone else as a pit… I’ve been there. I’ve lived it. And I survived.”

I swallow hard, my breath uneven. She understood. She was a non-Legacy too. Her words catch me off guard. For a moment, I see a flicker of vulnerability in her eyes, a hint of the pain she must have endured. But it’s gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by that familiar cold mask.

“You didn’t survive,” I say, my voice low and steady. “You let it break you. You became exactly what they wanted you to be.”

“I became what I needed to be to make it through,” she says, her voice hard. “But I wasn’t alone. Your father found escape in me and I found escape in him. We protected each other. He even betrayed his own kind for me.” Her voice breaks slightly on the last word, a hint of raw pride slipping through her carefully constructed facade.

The implication of her words hangs heavy in the air between us. The Legacies, he’d betrayed them, but I already knew that. Bishop had told me this, ironically enough, right outside this very building. But knowing my parents felt something for one another back then? The thought makes my stomach twist into a ball of confused knots. I don’t recall ever seeing love between them. They were like two separate lost souls in the same house.

“So what happened?” I ask, taking another cautious step toward her. “If you two were so close, why did it all fall apart?”

“You really don’t know anything about Magnus, do you? About the choices he made, the sacrifices.”

She takes a step closer, and I instinctively back away, my heel touching the edge of the pool. I’m trapped between Vera and the empty space below, with nowhere left to run.

“He was different back then,” Vera continues, her voice softening with memory. “Passionate, idealistic. He believed he could change things from the inside.”

This version of my father—passionate, idealistic—is so at odds with the withdrawn, broken man I’ve known my whole life. But there’s a ring of truth to her words that I can’t deny.

Vera’s eyes cloud over, lost in memory. “We could’ve been happy. We had it all…”

“What happened?” I ask, my tone suddenly harsh. “What did you do?” I demand.

Her eyes bulge with a fiery rage that I’ve only witnessed once before, three years ago.

Vera’s face contorts with fury, her eyes burning with an intensity that makes me flinch. “What did I do?” she snarls, taking another step toward me. “I didn’t do anything. It was his stupid last name and his family that ruined us.”

I stumble back, my heel slipping on the edge of the pool. I windmill my arms, catching myself and regaining my balance. Vera doesn’t even seem to notice my precarious position, lost in her own rage.

“He promised he’d make it up to me,” Vera continues, her words coming faster now, tinged with a manic energy. “We had plans, dreams of a life beyond these walls.”

I can see it all so clearly—my father and Vera, young and in love, dreaming of a future together. But something went terribly wrong.

I can feel my heart thumping, torn between fear of Vera’s rage and a desperate curiosity to know more about my father’s past. “What plans?” I ask, forcing calm into my voice. “What dreams?”

Vera’s eyes snap back to me, as if suddenly remembering I’m there. For a moment, I see a flicker of something else in her gaze—regret, perhaps, or longing. But it’s quickly buried beneath her anger.

“It doesn’t matter now,” she spits. “Your father chose you and Clara over me. And now I’m choosing myself.”

Her words hang in the air, heavy with finality. A shiver crawls up my back, realizing just how dangerous this situation has become. Vera’s not just angry—she’s unhinged, driven by years of bitterness and resentment.

“Vera,” I say, my voice tight with suppressed emotion, standing at the edge of the empty pool that drops into darkness below. “Whatever happened between you and my father, it’s in the past. You don’t have to—”

“It’s Mom!” she screams, her voice piercing through the air like a dagger, sharp end relentless. I try to evade her, but there’s no escape. Her hands come down on my shoulders with brutal force, shoving me backward.

Time slows to a crawl as I feel myself falling, gravity pulling me toward the hard concrete below. The world spins and tilts until all I can see is the ceiling of the natatorium looming above me. In that split second before impact, I catch a glimpse of Vera’s face twisted in a mixture of fury and something else… Remorse? Panic? And then everything goes dark as my body slams against the unforgiving concrete floor.