4
The sound of a door clicking closed woke me up, and I sat up in my bed and gazed around my room in Morgana Hall, then reached for my phone to check the time, only to discover that my phone wasn’t there.
There was my overnight bag by the bathroom door, the zip open, and clothes were stuffed inside.
Confusion stirred as I remembered I was going home for the weekend on my father’s demand…
No. Wait.
The meeting. My father showed me the pictures of me with the Warwicks. Wait. I rubbed my tired eyes with the base of my palm, then climbed out of bed as the room spun in giddy circles, so I had to crawl on my hands and knees to my bag, then rummaged through my bag, and found my phone at the bottom.
My eyesight was blurry and gritty, but after blinking a few times to clear them, I saw there were four messages from Leslie and two missed calls. The text messages were asking where I was, and then a comment about medics taking my father away. Please call me.
Then I remembered, although it seemed surreal because my head was so spaced out. My father. Hanging from the ceiling.
I shot him down.
Then…
Male voices quietly chatting nearby, but my eyes were too tired and my head too stuffy to wake.
My body lay on something soft that was vibrating, and it took me a couple of moments to realize that I was in a moving vehicle.
My mouth was bone dry, and my cheeks clammy and hot, but I was too tired.
I tried to speak, but no words came out, and I was too sluggish to be afraid.
“She’s waking,” a man mumbled, his voice familiar.
“Give her another one,” another familiar voice replied, and moments later, my jeans were pulled down, and a sharp pinprick struck my hip. I fell back to sleep. Then I wake for a second time, and I’m back in my room at Castlehill.
Horror and shock struck my chest, and I struggled to breathe.
My father is dead. My father hung himself.
No. It was set up. Someone murdered him to make it look like he killed himself.
My stomach stirred in nausea as my pounding head, stuffed with flashes of images that I couldn’t tell were memories or my imagination.
Leaving my phone on the floor, I rushed to the bathroom, knees pressed against the hard bathroom floor.
I felt terrible. My thigh and arm muscles ached as if I’d been clenching for far too long, and my lower back was stiff and sore.
The more I vomited, the lighter my head felt, and memories continued to dance behind my eyes.
I crawled to the basin and turned the faucet on, allowing cold water to fill my cupped hand, then I sipped the water to drain away the acid vomit taste at the back of my throat.
But I was still ill and dizzy and crawled back to bed, grabbing my phone on the way.
I closed my eyes for several minutes to try to decipher the images flicking about in my aching head.
Once my dizzy head had eased, I messaged Leslie back: I’m at Castlehill.
The door clicked unlocked, and I snapped my head up, frowning as the door swung open and dark-haired Lev walked in as if that’s something he’s done a hundred times before. “What the hell? Haven't you heard of knocking? This is a private room. Why do you have a key for?”
His pupils dilated as if he were surprised to see me stirring. “That’s a lot of questions, but I’m relieved you’re finally awake. I was close to calling the campus doctor. I kept shaking your body and patted cold water on your cheeks, and you still refused to wake.”
“You just walked into my room, what the hell? Oh…now it makes sense. It was you, wasn’t it? I knew it. Sneaking into my room and leaving a dead rat, leaving the fake snake in my bed. It was you, wasn’t it?”
“I bought you a sandwich,” he said, holding up a paper bag from Scholars and a can of Coke. “Thought you’d be hungry.”
“You’re not answering my questions…” Then another memory cut through my brain, making me jolt. “You set me up. You took those photos and sent them to my dad…” I couldn’t finish my sentence as the tears streamed down my cheeks, and I broke down crying. “My dad. You killed my dad.”
His dark eyes flicked to my phone lying on my bed before he looked up at me again, softer and more sympathetic. “Adina,” he swallowed and dithered as if he was struggling as to know what to say, “Adina, your dad killed himself.”
“No,” I sobbed as my chest tightened and my head continued to throb. “He wouldn't do that. Someone killed him to make it look like he committed suicide. He wouldn't do that.”
“Adi…he hung himself-” he choked on his words, then cracked open the can of Coke. “Look, have something to drink.”
“No, no, no, someone did that to him. I swear,” my face dropped into my hands as I blubbered uncontrollably. “He wouldn’t leave me.”
I felt the mattress sink as Lev sat beside me, and I clenched my fists, preparing to fight him off. He didn’t touch me, though, although I think he wanted to. “Adina…” he started softly, then my phone rang, and Leslie’s name flashed up on the screen.
I took a deep breath before answering, then as soon as I heard her voice, anger rose. “What are you doing back at Castlehill?” were the first words from her mouth. “This doesn’t look good, Adina.”
“I was kidnapped and brought back,” I spoke the truth, but even as the words fell from my lips, I knew she wouldn’t believe me. I mean…I barely believe it myself.
“What?” she gasped. “You were kidnapped? Oh, Adina, this is typical of you, isn’t it? Always the drama queen,” then she started choking up, although it sounded forced, but maybe my judgment had been clouded by my strong dislike of her.
“No, it’s true,” I sounded meek and annoying.
“Yet, you’re talking to me right now, so I guess your kidnappers aren’t so bad then,” she said sarcastically, and I shot Lev a dirty scowl. “He died while you were in the house, Adina. Did you not hear or see anything?”
I was about to answer yes and tell her about the masked man by the pool and the security cameras had been tampered with, but I decided against it.
“No,” I lied. “I mean…I heard a bang coming from his office. It was locked, so I shot the handle twice with my gun because I thought he was in trouble and found him hanging. I shot him down to the floor.”
“Okay,” she said, slowly taking it all in, probably weighing up how much of my story was fact and how much was bullshit. “And that’s when the kidnappers arrived?”
I sighed. “Yes. They were masked.”
“And they drove you back to Castlehill?” she persisted.
“Well, obviously not all the way, because….” Then I turned to Lev and shot him another sharp look, “the train. The only way back is the train.”
“Right, you’re not making a lot of sense, Adina,” a male voice chimed in the background. “Oh, the police are here. Hang on.” The phone echoed and hissed, then she came back on and said, “The police will likely need to speak to you, so-”
“Do you need me to come back home?” I questioned, hoping she’d say no.
“I’ll stay in touch, but…” she sighed, “I understand it must be terribly shocking to find your father like that, but…it doesn’t look good to disappear.”
“I had to get out,” I told her to make it look like I ran off, which now made my kidnapping story look fake, even though it’s actually the truth. I was so confused, and I suspected the man sitting beside me could fill in some gaps in the mystery.
“You’ll come back for the funeral?” she asked, and I looked to Lev again, who shrugged.
“I don’t know,” I replied.
“What? You can’t come back for your father’s funeral?” she shrilled, horrified, but once again, all my ears heard was her faking it.
“I mean…yes, I will. Give me the date, and I’ll be there,” I stated, although not confidently, because I was so dazed. I had been kidnapped but brought back here, so it seemed somebody else had plans for me.
“I’ll message you,” she replied as the same male voice said something in the background, but I couldn’t hear exactly what he was saying. But what disturbed me was that his tone was warm and friendly, as if familiar to Leslie. Maybe he was a friendly police officer.
As soon as I swiped off, I turned to Lev, “Spill. I want an explanation.”
He shrugged nonchalantly. “We brought you back.”
“Kidnapped and drugged me and brought me back to Castlehill,” I corrected him.
“If you say so,” his answer was smug and annoying, riling me up.
“What the hell? It’s obvious, isn’t it? You drugged and kidnapped me,” I pointed my finger at his face, then stood up to lengthen the space between us because I didn’t want to be near him. “You set me up with those pictures to blackmail my father. You did that.”
“Yeah, see that part of the story I’m not familiar with, also it’s obvious that your father hung himself,” he said dryly as the sympathy he offered me earlier had vanished.
“But you did drug and kidnap me?” I needed validation to ensure that I was crazy.
Again, he shrugged casually, “Well, you were hardly going to come on your own, were you?”
“But I was coming back to Castlehill on Monday anyway,” I argued, frustrated. My head ached so badly that I had to shut my eyes to dilute the pain.
He made a rumbling sound, “Yeah, but you said you were coming, but you were considering leaving, weren’t you?” he smacked his gums, “And we couldn’t allow that.”
“What do you mean?” I pressed as nausea stirred in my stomach again, but I doubt I had anything left to throw up.
“I mean…Adina, we can’t let you leave Castlehill. You will stay here and finish your studies, like normal,” Lev said, standing up and stepping to the door.
“Says who?” I argued that my head ached so much that I thought it was going to explode.
“Says me. Well, to be accurate, says us,” he swung the door open to reveal that Ezrah was there leaning against the wall in the hallway, arms folded across his impressive chest, expression like thunder.
He swaggered inside like he owned the world, and it occurred to me the fishhook trap I had erected had been taken down, so what else had they touched? Did they find my knife that was in my bag? Probably, but I was too deflated to check.
“We can’t let you out of our sight, Boleyn,” Ezrah ordered. “So you must stay here at Castlehill until we allow you to leave. Got it?”
I shook my head and groaned when it hurt. Everything hurt, including my failing heart and every emotion that rose into my chest. “You don’t dictate to me. I’ll do what I want. Fuck you. And how did you get me back here when there were no trains?”
Ezrah towered over me, consuming the entire room. “You’re not taking this seriously, Adina.” He bent down so we were face to face, and his warm breath graced my skin. “You are not going anywhere. Try to run, and we will hunt you down and string you up just like your daddy. Try me, Boleyn. Try me.”
“So, you did kill him then,” I hit back, making him flinch, and he stood up, looking his nose down at me.
“Try me, Boleyn. Try and run and see how far you get,” he warned me. “Nothing but mountains and trees around here. Try to run, you’ll die of hypothermia, or some predator will get ya. Try it. We have you tracked anyway, so if you did run, we’ll chase you down and do what we want with you.”
He walked towards the door as Lev followed, “Sleep,” Lev suggested, then pointed to the sandwich on the table with the open can of Coke. “Eat. Whatever. We’ll be back soon.”
“Hopefully not,” I mumbled as they shut the door, as it occurred to me why they brought me back.
The guy on the train. They didn’t want me to squeal on Ezrah. He probably killed him, too, just like my dad.