5. Ophelia
OPHELIA
I blink open my eyes and turn my head to look at the digits on the old-fashioned travel clock on my nightstand.
Six a.m.
The number is no surprise to me. I’d been woken at exactly this time for almost six years of my life, and even though I have the luxury of being able to wake up of my own accord now, I can’t seem to shake the habit.
Today is Sunday. When I’d been living my other life, it would be a day filled with back-to-back sermons and prayer, from the moment I wake, to the time I go to bed, but there’s none of that here.
I’m filled with guilt at the thought of spending the day however I choose instead.
The enormity of it is almost too much—the hours stretching ahead feel more overwhelming than having a strict schedule.
It’s like I’m standing at the top of an endlessly tall ladder, and the view down is making me dizzy.
Even after all this time, I’m unused to having free time. It should feel like a luxury, but it doesn’t.
At least I managed to get through the night without being plagued with nightmares.
I’m taking that as a good sign. I’d been worried that seeing Cain again, followed by my confession to Camile, might have stirred everything up, but perhaps there is comfort in sharing, like my therapist always tried to convince me.
I hadn’t thought I was ready to talk, but Camile is nice, and she’d made it easy to tell her some of it, at least. The thought of telling Cain, though, still leaves me feeling ashamed and upset.
Even though I know I bear no blame, the shame never leaves me.
It coats my skin like a sticky residue I can never wash away.
I wonder how Cain will be spending his day. Will he be with his friends? What was it Camile had said they call themselves? The Preachers? Why? What had happened to Cain to make him want to become part of a gang like that, and to make him wear a mask?
It occurs to me that while I might have a story, so does he.
I take a long shower and wash my hair. By the time I’m dressed and have blow-dried my hair, I’m hoping the cafeteria will be open for breakfast. My stomach rumbles.
“Okay, okay, I’m going,” I tell it.
With my anxiety creeping higher again, I let myself out of my room and make my way through the stone corridors of the university. I take the stairs down to the first floor and follow the signs to the cafeteria.
The whole time, I just want to hide, but ironically, I stand out like a sore thumb.
While other girls are in tight fitting jeans and crop tops, I’m in another long dress that I made myself.
I tried to wear jeans so I could fit in, but they were so uncomfortable.
I couldn’t stand the waistband digging into my stomach, or the way the material clung to my thighs.
The crop tops were way out of my comfort zone too.
Having that much skin exposed made me feel like a sinner.
It’s still early, so the cafeteria is quiet.
An impressive spread has been laid out for the students—scrambled eggs and trays of crispy bacon, diced watermelon and pastries.
I take a plate and hesitate over all the choices.
Though I’m hungry, I was always taught that greed is a sin.
It’s a teaching I’m still trying to shake, so I force myself to pile my plate high.
I take a seat at an empty table and start to eat. I’m horribly self-conscious, and I find myself wishing I’d arranged to have breakfast with Camile. I don’t want her to feel like she’s responsible for me, though. I’m nineteen years old, and I need to learn to be on my own.
I sense eyes on me and lift my head.
A guy with shaggy, jaw-length blond hair and green eyes is staring at me from a table nearby. We lock eyes, and my heart jolts. I realize he’s one of the men who’d been with Cain last night. He’s no longer wearing the strange skeleton mask he’d had on last night, but I recognize the hair and eyes.
He sits back and folds his arms across his chest while he continues to stare right at me. I flush with heat and duck my head, pretending I haven’t noticed him, even though we’d caught each other’s gazes. I wish I’d brought a book with me, so I’d have something to bury my head in.
How much has Cain told this man about me?
Does he know how close Cain and I used to be?
I’m sure Cain will have told him about how I was taken and had been missing for years.
That’s probably the reason he’s staring.
I’m like a freak in a circus sideshow. I resist the urge to bolt.
People are going to stare at me and talk about me behind my back, and I’m just going to have to get used to it.
What choice do I have? I can’t go back to my parents’ house.
I was only getting worse there. If I hadn’t done something drastic, I hate to think what kind of future lay ahead of me, if any.
I try to focus on my food, but it’s like he’s a flashing beacon in the room, and I can’t help but find my gaze drawn to him.
Why is he still staring, his own plate of food sitting untouched in front of him?
I wonder if Cain will be joining him for breakfast, or maybe their other friend—the one in the black leather coat and nail polish.
Maybe that’s why he hasn’t started eating yet. He’s waiting for them to arrive.
The thought of being stuck in the cafeteria with the three of them makes me lightheaded with panic.
I know I’m going to have to face them all at some point, but I just can’t bring myself to do it.
I glance back down at my plate and hurriedly take another few bites of my meal before picking up my dishes and readying myself to stand.
But I’m too late.
“What are you doing here?”
Cain’s friend is already standing beside my table. There’s no sign of the others, but he’s blocked my escape.
“Umm, getting breakfast.” Did he want me to point out the obvious?
His green eyes narrow. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
“I didn’t,” I insist.
“What are you doing at Verona Falls. Are you here because of Cain?”
“No. Why would I be?”
He folds his arms across his chest, and his biceps bulge. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out. It upset him, seeing you last night, and nothing much bothers Cain.”
“Oh.” I drop my chin again, always submissive. “I’m sorry.”
“What do you have to be sorry about?” There’s accusation in his tone.
My word, I offer an apology, and even that makes him angry. Is there nothing I can say to make this situation better?
“I-I don’t know. Upsetting him, I guess.” I don’t want to argue that I didn’t actually do anything other than try to get away. They should be the ones apologizing for chasing me.
He juts out his jaw, and a muscle flexes. “Yeah, well, just stay away from him, okay? We don’t need distractions like you around.”
I’m not good with confrontation, but something inside me fires with anger at him telling me what to do. I find myself blinking up at him.
“I’m sorry, but what exactly does this have to do with you? I’ve known Cain since we were kids, which I’m guessing is a hell of a lot longer than you’ve known him.”
He jerks back, his brow lifting as though he can’t believe I’ve had the nerve to talk back to him.
“Cain is like a brother to me,” he replies. “It’s my duty to protect him.”
I scoff. “From what? All five feet nothing of me? Cain looks plenty big enough to take care of himself.”
“There are other ways to hurt a person.” His voice is dark as if full of anger at the entire world.
I open my mouth and close it again.
He takes a step closer, practically pushing me up against my chair. “Just stay away from him. I mean it.”
He doesn’t give me a chance to respond and stalks back to his table. He picks up his untouched plate of food and carries it over to the trash can where he dumps the whole lot—plate included—and storms out of the cafeteria.
I watch him go, my mouth open, wondering what the heck that had all been about.