7. Cain
CAIN
I plan to spend the rest of the weekend on my own.
I can’t deal with the other Preachers right now, and if I go to the water tower, they’ll most likely be there.
They’ll question me. We normally meet on Sunday and do some shit together.
Sometimes we go for a run. Others, if the weather is bad, we might hang out at the tower.
Today, I’m going to hang out by myself. I have some reading I need to do for school, but it’s hard to focus.
I keep thinking about Ophelia. The fact she’s here is so fucking weird. What are the odds? Her being here has stirred up so many memories from my childhood. Memories I don’t want to let in, but that plagued my thoughts as I tried to sleep last night.
Fuck, this is making me crazy. I glance at my phone. It’s not even eight in the morning yet, and on the weekends, people here tend to sleep in. I’m guessing that means the gym will be quieter than usual. I decide to go and lift some weights, to try to work some of this tension out of me.
Part of me desperately wants to find Ophelia, but I know I’ll scare her off, and I can’t have that.
We need to talk, but I also want to give her space.
Now I’ve seen her again, I must know what happened to her.
It’s a burning need, one I’m fighting to repress.
How did she go from that cheeky, confident girl I used to know, to the haunted slip of a woman I encountered last night?
She was so frail and so fucking scared. I saw it in her eyes.
For the first time, I find myself hating the way we Preachers present ourselves.
It normally gives me a kick scaring half the student body to death.
I enjoy the fact that people are wary of us.
I don’t want to be admired, the way someone like Kirill seems to.
Or seen as a power figure like Dom. I don’t give a shit about that.
I just want people to stay out of my way. Scaring them tends to get that result.
I find most people intolerable. The stupid things they obsess about drive me fucking crazy.
They get so worked up over whether their team won at sports, or whether they have the latest phone, or the most expensive sneakers.
Or they’re worried about their place within the made-up hierarchy that is society.
None of it matters to me. When you’ve been tied up, held down, and beaten repeatedly by those who are supposed to protect you, then you learn early that the world isn’t a safe place. You learn most people aren’t to be trusted, and everything else is just a fucking lie.
Ophelia has also learned the world isn’t a safe place. I can see it in her eyes. In the way she holds herself. Small . The girl makes herself small, as if she can avoid being seen, and I hate that for her. She used to be so big, in personality if not in stature.
I muse on that for a minute. The world fucked me up, and my answer was to get big and scary. The world did the same to her, and her answer was to become small and hope not to be noticed. It’s almost as if we’ve swapped a part of our personalities when we were kids.
The urge to speak with her is riding me hard, so I hurry to get ready and work some of the need out of me on the weights. If I don’t, I’ll end up tracking her down, and I know that won’t be the right thing to do.
I quickly change into workout shorts, a t-shirt, and put my sneakers on, then, grabbing my phone, I head out the door.
The pace of life at Verona Falls is frenetic much of the time, but Sundays have their own quiet pattern. Some students go to the nearest town and have coffee at the diner, or ice cream at the parlor. Some head to the bar on campus to have lunch.
It means places like the library and the gym are nicely empty.
I put my headphones on, not wanting to talk to anyone, and with my head down, I stride through the long hallways of the college.
There’s a section where an internal bridge crosses over part of the courtyard, and old-fashioned mullioned windows frame the hallway.
The light from them on a sunny day dances on the wooden floor, but today is dull.
As I near the windows, I stop, the way I often do, and stare out to the grounds below.
The gray morning matches my mood, and I’m turning back to the corridor when movement below catches my eye.
Walking out from under the arch of the building is a slight figure.
My heart catches in my throat. Her long blonde hair whips in the wind, and she wraps her arms around herself.
She must be cold. She’s wearing another of those fucking plain dresses.
I want to rip the garment from her body and put her in the sort of clothes a girl of her unusual beauty should be wearing.
That thought pulls me up short. Why should I give a crap what she wears? It’s nothing to me.
She’s nothing to me anymore, I remind myself. I moved on—eventually—after she’d vanished, and I’ve forged an entirely new life for myself. I doubt she’d want anything to do with the man I am now.
Rushing across the courtyard, she cuts to the left and disappears around the corner of the building. I wonder where she’s going.
A tall, blond figure steps out from the archway and stares after her.
Roman. What the fuck? Is he following her? Or is it just coincidence?
He watches her for another moment then shrugs, shakes his head, and turns back to the college. I frown and stay staring out of the window long after both are gone.
Maybe he’d just seen her and wanted to know where she was going. But why?
There’s no way I want her to come between me and my fellow Preachers, but they have to know she’s not to be messed with. I don’t want them scaring her, at least not before I’ve had a chance to talk to her.
I’ll discuss it with Roman later. Right now, I need to hit the gym more than ever. I’m tired, confused, and frustrated.
Ophelia’s reappearance in my life has really messed with my equilibrium.