5. Mackenzie
I wake the following morning,after very little sleep—though I really could have used the rest—with a decision solidified inside me.
I can’t stay here. I just can’t. The idea of going to the cafeteria for food literally makes me want to throw up, and I feel like I’m going to have a panic attack at the thought of going into a class.
Mom hasn’t tried to speak to me again, but she’s called through the door to let me know she’s left a tray of food outside for me. I haven’t touched any of it. I don’t want anything from her. I’d rather starve.
I check my meds. I’ve got enough to last me a few weeks. What will I do after that? I have no idea, but I’ll figure it out. There are harder ways of dying than never recovering from a seizure. At least that’ll be relatively quick, and I won’t know too much about it. I don’t want to die—at least, I don’t think I do—but I know I’ll only have a slow death if I remain here. I’ll die of a broken heart. Betrayed by everyone I’d thought cared about me.
I ache with longing for my old life. My old friends. To think I believed the professor was as bad as things could get. How na?ve I’d been.
My brain tries to remind me that it had been my mom who’d gotten me out of that situation, and, unknowingly to me at the time, Nataniele, too. They’d had my back.
Now I have to wonder how much of that was them not wanting to get the police involved because of what they’d done. Had that been my mom’s first thought—that if the police thought me capable of murder, they might look more closely at my dad’s death, too? Not that I had anything to do with that, but it would have been far too close for comfort.
She said she acted because she loved me, and, up until a few days ago, I would have believed her one hundred percent. Now, I’m doubting everything.
A light knock comes at my door, and I shove my backpack under my bed. I don’t want to speak to anyone, but it’s not a secret that I’m back. It’s probably around the whole school by now.
Still feeling weak and shaky, I go to answer it.
I open the door to reveal Camile standing there.
Immediately, I burst into tears.
She steps toward me, half pushing me back fully into the room so she can close the door behind us again, and then wraps her arms around me.
“Hey,” she says, “it’ll be all right. Everything will be all right.”
I know she’s only trying to make me feel better, and I love her for that, but the truth is that everything isn’t going to be all right. Unless she has a time machine hidden somewhere that she can use to stop my mom from arranging my dad’s murder, things will never be okay again.
She releases me, and we go to my bed and sit on the edge, side by side.
Camile twists toward me. “I did try to warn you about them…”
I stiffen, my jaw locking rigid. “I don’t need to hear ‘I told you so’ right now, Camile.”
“No, I’m sorry. I know you don’t. I just wish you had listened, that’s all.”
“Why? Because I’m the weak, pathetic one who got her heart stomped all over? Maybe I’m not even upset about them. I knew what I was doing. Can’t I have been using them for sex as much as they were using me? It’s not like I was some inexperienced virgin when I got here.”
She has the decency to look down at her hands. “I just got the impression you were falling for them, that’s all. I mean, it’s completely understandable why you would. They have this…charisma…about them, and of course they’re hot.” One corner of her lips tweaks. “You’d have to be blind not to notice.”
How can I tell her it was more than that? They’d made me feel as though I finally belonged somewhere. They hadn’t known me for my condition. They’d acted as though I was the most beautiful, precious thing in the world…at least, they had toward the end.
Of course, there were two words I needed to take from that thought— ‘acted’ and ‘thing.’ I’d been a possession for them to play with—their little fuck doll—and the whole time all they’d been doing was playing for time until they could destroy me.
Well, congrats to them. They succeeded.
“I don’t give a fuck about the Devils,” I say. “They can all go to hell, where they belong.”
She pauses. “I heard Tino and Kirill went to see you at the hospital.”
“I didn’t want them to. I told them to get lost.”
“Word is that Dom didn’t want them to go, either, but they went against his wishes.”
My stomach flips, but I do my best to ignore it. “How big of them, finally standing up for themselves. If only they’d considered doing that a couple of days ago, instead of humiliating me in front of everyone.”
She takes my hand.
“You have nothing to be embarrassed about. None of this is your fault.”
I clamp my lips shut. That’s not strictly true. Getting involved with the Devils is my fault. I can’t blame that on anyone else—not even them. I knew what they were like and somehow thought I would be different.
“What are you going to do about your mom?” Camile asks.
I shake my head. “There’s nothing I can do, but I’ll never forgive her.”
Camile sighs. “We all have people in our families who might have acted in ways we don’t approve of, but it comes with the territory. We might not agree or understand their actions, but we need to learn to live with them.”
I yank my hand away. “What are you saying? That I just forgive her for what she did?”
“What other choice do you have? It’ll eat away at you otherwise. It’ll harm you more than it will her.”
I’m not so sure about that. I imagine my mom is torturing herself as much as I am. Then I shake the thought from my head. If I believed that to be true, then it would mean that she did love me and was trying to protect me. That’s not the narrative I want to follow. I’d prefer to believe she was trying to get with Nathaniel all along, and Dad simply stood in their way. Everything else was just an excuse.
“She can’t harm me more than she already has. I hate her.”
“You don’t hate her. You’re in shock, that’s all. It’ll fade.”
I can barely believe what she’s saying. “I didn’t grow up in this life, or at least, I didn’t know I did until recently. So I’m not just going to accept it’s okay to kill the people we’re supposed to love. I mean, seriously? I can’t believe you’re even suggesting it.”
She offers me a sympathetic smile. “It’s clear you’re upset, and I don’t want that.”
I bristle further. “Why? Because you’re worried it’ll give me another seizure? My condition isn’t your responsibility, Camile. Not yours or the Devils’, or even my mom’s. I mean, we hardly know each other. It’s not like we can even call ourselves real friends.”
Camile jerks away. “Wow. Okay, then…”
I’ve been a total bitch, but I can’t seem to help myself. It’s like I’m wearing my pain as a knife attached to my wrist and I just keep stabbing at everyone to keep them away.
She gets to her feet. “I guess I’ll see you around.”
I let out a sigh. “Camile…I didn’t mean?—”
But she’s already gone, the door swinging shut behind her.
Fuck.
I put my head in my hands. Maybe I should go after her, but I simply don’t have the emotional or physical strength right now. Besides, what good have other people ever done me? I can only rely on myself. I’m safer alone.
I glance down to my backpack. It contains the basics—my toiletries, my meds, a couple changes of clothes, and the photograph of me and my dad from when I’d been young. Maybe I should be angry at him as well. After all, he was the one who got us involved in all this shit by choosing the career he did—but I know he’s a victim, too.
I’m also going to take my laptop and phone, but then I think old-school and grab one of the branded notepads and pens from the university. I’m not sure I’ll need to leave anyone a note—I certainly don’t plan to leave one here—but it might come in useful.
I have some money. It’s not a lot, but it’ll be enough to buy food and gas until I can find work somewhere.
I long to return to my old friends and home, but I remember the reason I’ve ended up at Verona Falls in the first place and know I can’t. I’ll find work, maybe something that’ll include boarding as well. That kind of work won’t have insurance, plus I’ll need to give a fake name. People do it all the time—illegal immigrants who employers take on for cheap labor—so I can’t see why the same employers won’t take me on as well. I won’t tell them about my epilepsy, of course.
I finger the small heart-shaped necklace with the tiny diamond that sits nestled at the base of my throat. It was a gift from my dad, and I’ve never taken it off. It makes me feel closer to him, and I wish he was still alive. There is so much I want to say to him. I imagine I can convince him to change his life, to make different choices, so Mom never even contemplated taking the actions she did.
I sneak into my mom’s room. Her car keys are in a silver dish near the door. I grab them and slip them into my pocket. Does Nataniele have cameras in here? It wouldn’t surprise me if he does. Or perhaps he allows himself that privacy and just has them everywhere else. I don’t care if they see me stealing the keys. They’re going to know soon enough when they realize both I and the car are missing. Does Nataniele have contacts with the local cops? He’ll issue a ‘be on the lookout’ for me and the car, especially as I shouldn’t be driving. I’ll have to do something to disguise the license plate—cover some of the letters with mud or something so it doesn’t get picked up on any automatic plate recognition camera.
All I want is to put Verona Falls, and everyone it contains, far behind me.