Chapter Fifteen #2
“He did a number on you, huh?” Cassius laughed, and I wanted to rip my hair out and scream. Because it would be better than the pressure growing behind my eyes. Because I hadn’t felt that pressure in years, and I wasn’t going to let it win over me now.
Not when I had withstood worse.
“He could never do a number on me, but I would rather he didn’t steal from my wallet and trick me into drugging myself.”
Thaddeus almost sounded proud. “He really is something. Isn’t he?”
His flattery only dug further into the pit of self-disgust I was shoving myself into. Thaddeus’s praise did nothing when all this time I was only trying to survive. I was only ever trying to survive. But to them… to them it was all a game.
Ever since I’d met Cassius, my life had gotten worse.
I’m an orphan with no one to protect me. I’d been robbed and beaten and stabbed and ridiculed.
I hadn’t had a great start to my life, but at least I had a home to return to without blood-crippling fear, one that allowed me the certainty of control.
Maybe I would have succeeded in my education, gone to university and landed myself an honest and well-paying job.
Oh god. Did they kill my parents to watch how I’d fend for myself?
From those simple strings of words, a wave of dark, scrambled thoughts formed as I questioned every bad thing that had ever happened to me.
Too quick for me to stop, like trying to catch pouring rain through a fishnet.
My life, my entire life, was engineered, planned, prepared, for this.
For that moment in time when I received my invitation to The Founder’s Society.
“… He stole from you?”
“As I’ve been repeating, the little thief stole my money and then some. Things he didn’t exactly need. A card with Thelema’s caregiver’s number on it, my pen, my license, and several credit cards. Do you know how long it took to get those replaced?”
Thaddeus was chuckling, but no sound came out of Cassius until the former noticed. “What’s wrong?”
“Where did you say you learned about Miroslav? What made you decide to sponsor him?”
It was silent, a beat, two. “New York. He wrote an essay under the foundation program I was running. I liked his answer. Why?”
“I don’t know. Just… reminds me of–”
“Cassius, you’ve got to let that boy go. I understand it was hard, but it’s been years since Alexei died.”
The blood drained from my face. My muscles seized as if I’d spent an hour wandering without a jacket on the peak of the highest mountain known to man. I couldn’t feel them, couldn’t control them. Neither could I help it when my legs gave out from under me, the cold ground almost rising to catch me.
Suddenly, it was all clicking together. Thaddeus assigned the essay. He couldn’t have known it was me, but I’m sure he suspected. Why else would he warn me about how he’d judge me?
He had to have guessed I had something to do with Alexei. Knew him, hated him.
So, he sponsored me, invited me to the Founder’s Society.
Another thought filled the last.
He set the first task, hoping I would draw my own blood? Have it tested to confirm?
Could he have known I would draw my own blood?
No, right? Because it wouldn’t prove anything. Because I disappeared before the police could document anything. Or… was that how it worked?
It all got confusing again. More questions fill my mind.
Did he sponsor me because of Cassius? Nominate me to the board for Cassius?
If so, why? When Cassius doesn’t know, why?
What would be the point?
From the sound of it, he didn’t look like he was willing to tell him the truth. Thaddeus was conniving and calculating, so there had to be something else.
I was too scared to keep listening. Too paranoid.
Afraid. Suddenly, I couldn’t see. I didn’t know where I was moving, crawling.
I didn’t know if it was me who was gasping for air or if it was all in my head, but I remember the darkness surrounding me, the night cloaking my shaking legs trying to make it across the grounds.
My mind didn’t clear until I found myself lying against a tree, my cheek against the rough and cold as ice soil. I didn’t know where on campus I was, but I knew I was somewhere no one would bother coming. Especially at night.
I breathed. I listened to myself breathe.
I watched my breath condense. Over and over, I forced breath after breath in and out of my body until I could finally see through the blur.
The one that came from the tears clinging helplessly to my lashes, and the one that shuffled my sanity like a deck of cards.
When I calmed, the thoughts returned.
Think, Sasha, think.
Maybe he needed someone to take his seat. I'll figure out why later. But for now, if Thaddeus wanted someone to assume the mantle, he’d turn to his closest friend, wouldn’t he?
It was a slightly reassuring thought.
He’d trust his friend and his perception of others.
Cassius must have had a good perception of Alexei, which led Thaddeus to me.
Except, there had to be something else. Despite it all, Thaddeus sounds as if he does one thing for multiple reasons, so if he fails in one front, he wins in another.
Why me?
I didn’t remember getting back to my dorm that night, but I woke up in my bed feeling groggy, my eyelids heavy and stuck together, refusing to open, and my temple aching, as if a car had run over it a hundred times.
My tongue was too dry, glued to the top of my mouth, and my muscles ached despite the minimal workout. Though I couldn’t be sure, considering I don’t remember.
I peeled my tongue away from its palate and smacked my lips together, trying to get some moisture around.
It was still early to get up and get ready, if the break of light was anything to go by, and yet, a knock sounded at my door.
Too exhausted to entertain any guests, I ignored it, hoping it would go away, and for a moment, it did.
Though, it didn’t take long until I heard the keyhole jiggling, and my door soon falling open.
I was planning on getting angry, letting that familiar rage boil under my blood and consume me, allowing me to direct it at the intrusion, but I was just so tired. My limbs were too heavy, and my eyes remained closed.
I could barely think long enough. I saw Paris’ styled hair first before her face.
I didn’t know she could pick locks.
The growing smile on her face paused on its journey before dropping, most likely at my appearance. I threw the duvet over my head and turned towards the wall.
“I knew you were awake, you know? It’s like I have a gift.” She joked from the doorway.
Her words practically fell on blind ears when I didn’t respond, hoping she’d get the message. She didn’t. I heard my door close, but her footsteps were getting closer rather than farther.
“Oh, come on, you’ll have to get up soon anyway.” Her voice was right over me then.
“Sasha.”
I didn’t answer. Besides, I couldn’t. My tongue was still stuck, I told myself.
“Sasha.” She said my name in a sing-song tone, and still, no words made their way out of my mouth.
I waited for her to cut her losses and leave, but instead, I felt weight fall over my torso as she began grappling for the duvet.
I didn’t fight her, and when she uncovered my face, the muted morning light forcing me to face the world once again, she smiled, huffing and blowing her styled hair out of her face.
“I didn’t know you weren’t a morning person. ”
“I am.” The words came out before I could stop them.
For once in my life, ever since Cassius, I wanted to talk about myself.
I wanted to force the words out and establish my existence.
To scream that I may not be known, but I am alive, and my life may have been engineered, but I walk under the moonlight when I wish to clear my head, and I could lie on the grass when I feel faint, and I feel my heart beating in my ears, and so I exist of my own free will.
I have a name and I have made free choices, and no one controls me.
I could hurt myself if I chose to, and I could walk over the edge of a cliff if I so pleased, because my actions were my own.
I wanted someone to know me and remember me as me. Not a puppet, not the mask, not the role I forget I was playing.
“Hmm, I know. We have Mr Browne first thing, and you’re always fresh and early.” She said sarcastically. We both knew I hadn’t been to Mr Browne’s class in quite a while.
Her voice was low with how close she was, and her warmth was slowly seeping into me. Her eyes peered into mine like she was trying to connect our minds. “So, what’s got you so sad?”
“How do you know I’m sad?” I mumbled slowly into the quiet of the room.
“Because I know sadness. In fact, I’m well acquainted with sadness.”
And then, I remembered what Thaddeus had said last night.
Paris brought the blood of one of her father’s suitors.
“It’s sad, isn’t it?” I whispered.
She hummed and threw herself over my slumped body, sliding in next to me with a groan, her uniform, heels, and all.
“So.” She dragged out the vowel. “What’s got you sad?” She asked again.
The word almost sounded strange, unknown and unfamiliar with its worn-out use.
I looked at her. Really looked at her.
Her relaxed muscles and open, empathetic features.
“I’m almost out of cigarettes.”
It was an anticipatory silence as she stared into my eyes the way only she seemed to be able to, and for a moment, I figured she’d call me out on my lies. Instead, she laughed.
She threw her head back against my pillow and barked out a loud laugh that was sure to sound through the walls. And that was that.
She didn’t question me after that, only lifting herself over me again to stand and poking around my dorm to her heart’s content. Not that there was anything of sentiment.
I didn’t move from under the nest of blankets, really only the one I’d been provided with, I surrounded myself in.
Not until she spoke again.
“I think Wolf is going through withdrawal.”
I furrowed my brows and followed her eyes. Silently, we watched the shadows of footsteps pace in front of my door from under the crack.
I sighed, letting out a breath I felt I was holding for decades. Maybe I was.
“If you’re not ready to face the land of the living, that’s your choice, and I won’t hold you to it. But just know… we have to start working on the Kensingtons.”
And just like that, the soft and peaceful atmosphere blew away with the draft coming from the cracked window.
Right. The Founder’s Society.
We both knew what that meant.
I groaned into my pillow before tilting my head. “How early do you people wake up?”
Paris chuckled. “As you Americans like to say, you snooze, you lose.”
I raised a slow brow. “I’ve never heard that before.”
She huffed and fixed her hair. “Should I let Kingsley in?”
I shook my head and she didn’t push. She nodded before moving closer, placing one hand against my shoulder, and said, “If there is one thing I learned, it’s that you don’t owe anyone anything. That's all the time you need.”
With that, she bid me farewell in her own dramatic yet strangely endearing way and closed the door, helpfully shutting me out from the world once more.
I could hear muffled talk outside, but it faded into silence once more, Paris having walked away and Wolf’s shadow along with her.
I didn’t know what to tell Wolf. I didn’t know if I even trusted Wolf.
Was he planted by his brother to watch me?
I sounded like myself back as a runaway teen. Suspicious and suspecting of anything and everything.
The day passed like this: I battled with my mind on whether I should trudge down to the Dining Hall in search of food, as I hadn't eaten since dinner last night, before deciding against it and choosing to lie in bed and continue swimming deeper and deeper into my thoughts.
Already used to the growing hole of hunger aching in my stomach.
When the strain on my temple got to be too much, I made the very short trek to my desk and studied anything my mind was willing to retain.
Today, it was finance and law, so I smoked and studied. Studied and smoked.
Asset vs. liability.
Equity vs. debt.
Compounding interest and risk assessment.
Market psychology.
Keynesian vs. free market economics.
GDP and balance of trade.
Indemnify, breach, and force majeure.
There was so much to take in that, at one point, I didn’t know who in the case studies was right and who was wrong.
What financial practices were ethical and what were not?
The words in front of me were written with a clear bias, and yet I couldn’t muster up the brain power to differentiate between what opinions were mine and what weren’t.
I could only work, write, absorb, remember, and smoke.
God, did I smoke.