Chapter Three
Raven.
Being back at Rayne-Moore was fucking nerve-wracking. The second I saw the spike above the bell tower a mile away before
Axel pulled up to the iron gates, I couldn’t stop bouncing my
knees.
Axel let go of the gear shift and placed a large tan hand
on my thigh. “Hey, it’s gonna be okay. I don’t exactly know whyyou want to come back; I mean, Hartford would love to have you.”
I look at him then look back out to the windshield as the rest of the huge stone gothic-style college comes into view. It’s
still as breathtaking as the day Sofia and John brought us for the campus tour with its magnificent size, its stony arches, high walls, and huge stained-glass windows. As beautiful as it is, it’s just as haunting.
A squeeze on my thigh brings me back to the present. To him; my rock.
“I got your back, Cooks. You call me if you need me, okay? Keep the location on your phone on when you leave the dorms soI can always find you.” I won’t be doing that.
“I love you. You’ll be okay. I’m proud of you for coming back and facing your fears.
” He pats my thigh and puts it back on the gear shift so he can park the car.
I wish it was just my fears I was facing instead of my demons.
See, a couple of months ago, I forgot to pop one of the sleeping pills Dr. Archer prescribed me for my nightmares because I had completely knocked out after a super intense workout and a self-defense class, and then…
something happened. I remembered something in my dreams. A tattooed hand.
Well, a tattooed finger . A finger I knew belonged to Tyler Prescott.
So when I was home on the three days I was allotted freedom, I wouldn’t take them.
It was kind of hard not to at Lorne Wood, because they check your mouth.
But at home, I had way more autonomy and no cameras.
The first night was always terrible, weaning myself from the medication. Eleven straight days of meds, then three days no meds. Sometimes, I didn’t know if what I was seeing was real. Except bits and pieces of that night started coming back to me when I was home.
When I woke up a week later in the hospital, and the cops started asking questions, I didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer. I didn’t remember anything.
But now?
Now that the bits ebbed and flowed closer together and were making more and more sense, I had to come back. I had to know why. Not just why me but why ? What had I done? But more importantly, who had done this to me? Tyler, obviously, but he wasn’t alone.
Dean Whitmore holds his dark hand out to me and I look at it. I don’t want to shake it, but he offers to take my cello inside for me so I shake it and then hand him my cello case.
The dorms are still exactly like I remember them; luxurious, spacious, comfortable. I’d only lived in them for the first four weeks until I pledged and then moved into the Zeta Gamma Phi House off campus with Sabrina, Ashleigh and Taylor.
Safe to say I won’t be pledging this year.
I have other things to worry about than fucking parties. Or fucking , for all that matters. Yeah, I’m sure nobody wants to fuck the freak that doesn’t speak.
It’s not like I haven’t tried. Both the fucking and the speaking.
I could only wear so many short skirts around Dr. Archer before I felt like an idiot, crossing and uncrossing my legs, trying to flash him my ward-approved cotton panties.
Only for him to ask me some ridiculous question like; “ How was your weekend with your family, Raven? ”
It was fucking boring, Doc. Sofia and John were gone the entire time, on some extravagant business trip where they don’t have to look at me or introduce their defective daughter and they can just pretend I don’t exist entirely.
Shit. The only one that even tries to speak to me is Axel and even then…
he has his own life, his own friends, his own dates and parties to go to where he can’t take his sister because she has fucking panic attacks!
I’m such a fucking loser.
God, but the way Doctor Archer would look me up and down like he wanted to devour me?
I felt like lava ran through my veins. Those gunmetal eyes…
he doesn’t make me feel like a loser at all.
He looks at me like, like I’m a rare jewel or a masterpiece; eyes always lingering where they shouldn’t.
Even when he looks at the scars on my leg like it’s a treasure map…
I love it and I hate it and it makes all of my insides revolt and like the butterflies I get in my stomach have smoked crack.
But he never made a move and I was too scared to because… because what if it was all in my head?
And the speaking part? It just doesn’t come out. After what happened to me, what was there to talk about? The fucking weather? It’s hot . How am I doing? I’m angry and bitter. How am I feeling? Like I want to murder anyone that asks me how I’m feeling for the thirtieth time that day.
I’m fucking pathetic. In my defense, if you think small talk sucks, try having small talk after you’ve been a victim of attempted murder. My only saving grace was that they didn’t do something else to me. Didn’t even try. No, they had one goal: to kill me.
But why?
Axel seems to be the only one that understands my aggressions.
He was the one that picked up on my non-verbal cues.
Like when the cops first started asking questions, the same questions over and over again and my eyes would glaze over and I’d simply look at him and he’d answer for me.
Or like when that bitch of a nurse came to put in a new IV in me and change my bandages, he specifically told her not to touch my wrists.
What did she do? She touched my fucking wrist!
Punching her in the face was a reflex I couldn’t control.
But then she screamed and more techs came in and what did they do?
They restrained me again and then doped me up to calm me down. It was a fucking nightmare.
I am a fucking nightmare.
I woke up at Lorne Wood Mental Institution under what was supposed to be a seventy-two-hour solitary hold. What could I do? Apologize? I wasn’t sorry and it wasn’t my fucking fault.
Except now I’m just so tired of being so angry all the fucking time.
Before I know it, with a sigh, I’m putting my hair in pigtails because the wind roughed me up, and Axel and I are heading to the dining hall.
I forgot about the dining hall. How am I supposed to get my own meals?
Axel probably notices I’m fidgeting because he simply says, “Whitmore said they have an app where you can order the food and just pick it up yourself,” before he opens the door.
“I’m also getting a mini-fridge and a microwave delivered and some groceries.
Okay? I’ll come by every two weeks and bring you more because Whitmore said they only serve breakfast and lunch on Saturdays and the kitchens are closed for deep cleanings on Sundays. ”
I pull up a picture of a punching bag on my phone and he laughs. “You have access to the gym, killer. Just, you know, don’t go after dark, okay?”
I blink. Okay .
He holds out his elbow for me and I take it, keeping my gaze on the floor when the door closes behind us and the whispers start.
“So, what do you want to eat?” Saturdays must be carb days because on the line it’s nothing but various pastas and pizzas.
I look at the spaghetti and back up at him.
He hands me his credit card. “Get me a coke?”
I take it and see a huge jock grabbing a bottle of water. When he stands, my eyes connect with gorgeous brown and green hazel eyes with sparks of gold.
“Hi. I’m Jonas.”
Jonas … I whisper it in my mind. His voice is low and smooth like black velvet, and it causes a wave of new butterflies to flutter in my tummy. I blink at the temptation before me and turn, bending to pick up the drinks I paid for .
“Ready?” Axel asks and off we go.
We eat in my dorm room and then Axel leaves me with a hug that I don’t return. I wish I could. Human touch hurts unless I’m fighting. He kisses my forehead and lingers for a bit. “Doc said-”
I glare up at him.
“Never mind.” He chuckles. “I’ll be back in two weeks, okay? I downloaded all the apps you’ll need on your phone and… I’ll miss you. Be safe. Okay?”
I blink again and give him a chaste smile which only makes him pull me closer to him.
His warm cider scent that reminds me of home and Christmas fills my nostrils and I breathe it in deeply, letting it coat my insides so that it can hopefully, give me the last bit of strength I need to do what I have to do.
______
It storms all morning on Sunday, and with everyone staying in, I decide to go out.
The more I can keep wandering and go unnoticed, the better.
I need to morph into the shadows, find out which areas on campus have working security cameras and which ones don’t…
but on my way to the library, I decide to take a different path, one that I used to enjoy taking the first time I was a student here.
It takes me a moment to remember where the pond is exactly, but as soon as I find it, and I know I’m alone, I remove my clothes by the tree line so they don’t get too wet and then dive in. The water is chilly, but warmer than the cold droplets of rain falling from the angry sky.
“Mind if I join you?”
I tense and turn to see Jonas in nothing but black boxer briefs hung low on his hips, beneath that adonis belt of his.
I swallow as my mouth pools with saliva.
His body is immaculate, he’d put Hercules to shame.
Hard ridges and bulges and veins and yet he still looks soft.
That’s when I notice he’s not hard, he just holds a smirk on his face as he holds up my panties and bralette.