Chapter Five
Raven .
My phone only rings when Axel FaceTime’s or texts.
Sofia, my mother, stopped calling or texting years ago. John rarely ever did before the accident, so, you know. I didn’t exactly expect him to either.
The friends I had made previously stopped calling or texting when they realized I was no longer mean, bitchy, Ray .
I mean, they tried. For the first few weeks after I woke up in the ICU and then I was moved down to the VIP area of the hospital, they would visit.
But when they realized I wouldn’t laugh with them the way I used to when they’d gossip and talk shit about the other girls we went to school with, or have a snarky sarcastic remark, they’d stop talking, too.
At one point, it was like they were afraid to laugh in front of me.
I knew I made them uncomfortable.
For the longest, I just didn’t have it in me to care and then when I did miss them…
they had already moved on. Junior year. Then Senior year.
Then Ashliegh married Thadd like she always said she would.
Taylor moved to France where she helps her mother run her fashion line there.
Brina moved to New York, working in her daddy’s law firm.
I accidentally liked her picture once on Instagram and she ended up direct messaging me.
Hey… Miss you.
I stared and cried at the message .
They’d all moved on… and I was stuck at Lorne Wood watching them be their best from a fucking cheap tablet I was given one hour access to every other day. And then I watched them from my phone when I was finally given mine back during house visits.
The day Brina messaged me, I went through every single picture of me where my hair was all brown. Where I didn’t have a scar on my temple or my leg the best plastic surgeons couldn’t fix. Where I didn’t have a forced smile on my face.
It was the first time I cried, sobs that made my entire body shake, sobs that were so silent, with tears so wild and flowing so freely, the front of my shirt was wet. I cried for such a long time that Doctor Archer had to sedate me because I threw the tablet at him.
I hadn’t meant to.
I wanted to show him that Brina had messaged me. That she missed me. She had moved on with her life, living fabulously in a penthouse in Manhattan while I was bouncing between a mental hospital and my parent’s lonely, empty mansion.
And she missed me.
Archer called Axel, and requested we do something therapeutic while I was at home.
When Axel suggested defensive training, I leapt into his lap and hugged him to me, snuggling him so closely, he chuckled and rasped out he couldn’t breathe.
Doctor Archer simply smiled and nodded. But behind those smokey eyes of his, something flashed when I had practically straddled my brother.
A delusional piece of me hoped it was jealousy.
“There’s my favorite sister.” Axel coos.
I roll my eyes but I’m beaming on the inside. It’s so great to not only see his face but hear his voice. I woke up to a gloomy, misty morning, the kind I adore, but thankfully, my first class isn’t until ten.
“Where are you taking me?” He jokes.
I squint due to the sun peeking behind a heavy cloud in my eyes and turn the camera to the circle-shaped library looming ahead.
“Wanna know a secret?”
I flip the camera back over to front facing so he can see me blink.
“Alright I guess I won’t tell you.”
I narrow my eyes and glare at him .
“Alright, alright, shut up. Quit threatening me.” He teases. “You know how students aren’t allowed in the basement floor of the library, in the restricted Rare Books and Manuscripts Section, how it’s gated so only professors are allowed down there?”
I blink. Yeah?
“Well, there’s a secret entrance,” he pauses and looks behind him, lowering his voice.
“There’s a light brown bookshelf in the encyclopedia section that opens on the top floor.
It sucks because there’s a long, narrow spiral staircase and it’s creepy as fuck, but dad told me about it when we were there. It’s a Monroe family secret.”
I arch an eyebrow.
“So, the legend is, don’t look behind you while you’re walking down there.
A reason the entrance from the third floor was closed off in the seventies is because three students fell down all five flights of stairs and died.
Not together, obviously, but over the entire decade.
Supposedly it’s haunted. So don’t make noise.
When you reach the final stair, the door is a bookshelf on the other side.
So be careful and make sure there’s nobody else around when you open it.
You’re not supposed to be down there so don’t let anyone catch you. ”
I throw him a smirk.
“Fuck, that’s great.”
I tilt my head to the side.
“Nothing, it’s just great to see you smile. If I’d known family secrets would make you happy, I would’ve told you years ago.”
I flip the camera back so he can see I’ve reached the steps to the door and flip it back to face me.
“Alright, well, don’t let me keep you. I’ll see you next weekend okay. Oh, and sis? Don’t open any of the other doors you see down there. Might let the ghosts out.” He jokes.
I don’t know why, but I show him a full smile.
He shows me a conflicted one.
We hang up and I push my phone to the outside pocket of my book bag and walk into the Monroe library John’s grandfather donated money to be built over sixty years ago.
I’ve always loved it in here. The outside is made of white bricks that match the university with a red roof.
It’s old and dusty and beautiful with the same high arches, stained glass windows with the same cedar wood scent and lemon pledge as the rest of the university.
I silently creep up the stairs to fifth floor, grateful the library is mostly empty at this hour because I am very aware of my short yellow and black plaid skirt and the black lacey thong I’m wearing being visible to anyone that were to walk behind me or even three steps below me.
Okay, the encyclopedia section. Obviously that’s where a super-secret bookcase door would be – who uses encyclopedias anymore when we have our phones? I stare at them, dust collecting around each one… except… I pull on the book that has none and hold my breath.
Well, that was anticlimactic.
I let my breath go and then roll my eyes. I was really hoping for a big dramatic door creaking open and… fog or dust or something! It just unlatched. I pull it open and close it behind me. If I thought the library smelled old… it’s got nothing on the earthy smell in here.
It’s colder, for sure, and I feel my nipples pearl in my sports bra that I took the padding out of. They’re high-end sports bras and the padding still bunches up around my armpits or below my boob. Ridiculous .
The walls are painted a red so deep it’s between cherry and maroon.
Like when blood is drying . I swallow dryly at that thought.
On the wall to the right of me there’s a hanging coat rack and beside it is an old-timey sconce that looks like a lantern.
The coat rack is probably the oddest thing I’ve seen but I decide to hang up my uniform blazer and book bag holding my textbooks, my laptop and my notebooks there so I don’t get either dirty then begin descending down the long spiral staircase.
After the first flight it’s no wonder those students kept tripping and dying down here; there’s no stair railing, just sleek, blood-red walls to keep me balanced while going down and every five steps there’s a dim sconce along the way that’s barely bright enough for you to see the next few steps ahead of you.
Some of them flicker in and out, zapping and I catch sight of a few spider webs on them.
Don’t look behind you while going down the stairs.
For some reason, I’m so tempted to. It feels like the darkness behind me is lapping against my back, like if I turn around there will be someone there to push me and without a rail to grab onto, I’ll tumble to my death.
I rub my arms to keep warm. I know they keep it cooler down here to keep the ancient books from growing mold.
Jesus it’s so freezing – the deeper I descend, the more that delicious earthy scent like soil opening up after a drought fills my nostrils. It’s beautiful.
And creepy.
I wonder if Doctor Archer ever spent time in areas like the restricted section of a library while writing a thesis about some mental disorder.
For some reason, I think of Professor Harrington.
The way his sea-green eyes with blue flecks behind those glasses that fit his classic Greek-like facial structure.
How they stared at me in the dining hall and how his gaze had turned glacier when Jonas bravely put his hand on my thigh under the table.
It was the same glare he gave me while he was teaching.
Why did I let Jonas put his hand on my thigh so possessively?
Because it felt good . It felt warm against the coolness of my thigh and it felt so good to be touched that I didn’t realize how much I wanted it until it happened.
It helps that Jonas is fucking mouth-watering, I guess.
Plus, we’ve already seen each other naked.
Talk about a first. I snicker silently, I mean, yeah right, imagine me on a date?
I sigh.
I’m a little ashamed I was on my way here to not only get a book for his class but to grab a self-help book on – I groan inwardly – how to seduce someone.
I could go back to Doctor Archer during winter break a grown, confident woman completely knowledgeable in the art of seduction and sex. No longer his patient. He could… we could… No. We couldn’t. I’m fucking broken. What did he call me once during a phone call to my parents? A broken little doll.