25
The throbbing in my head refuses to relent. I try to focus on the lecture, but my attention is divided. After Vesper dropped that bomb on me, I went home to drown in my endless sea of thoughts. To her, she feels the need to save me from all this, but where she sees travesty, I see opportunity.
I'm way past that point of being “saved” anyway.
This is the lowest I've ever been. I pride myself on my ability to be resilient, but the troubled scenes of my past replay in my mind over and over.
She can't just erase my past; no one can.
I am who I am. I'll do anything to be somebody, to push myself into a better life, but there is a part of me that can't let go.
It haunts me. This is my ticket to a better life, though.
Kieran replays in my mind like a broken record. I'm not sure how much longer I can pretend to be immune to him. The guy is a loose cannon. He's the type of guy who finally loses his shit and shoots up a school. I laugh internally. What does that say about me?
You’re a fucking mess, Clara, that’s what.
Silas, Val, and Grey steal glances at me from across the classroom.
They've avoided me like the plague since Kieran went ape shit and punched Val.
Kieran hasn't shown his face in class since that day, either.
My leg bounces wildly under my desk. I'm nauseous and should have definitely skipped class.
If my scholarship didn't ride on my grades being perfect, I would have.
I chuckle to myself. I suppose none of that matters anymore.
Everything is dependent on the impending choices before me.
Vesper warned me Mortensen would be talking to me soon.
Much to her dismay, I'll be accepting his proposal.
I'd rather die than lose my scholarship.
There is no other option for me. This is it.
I just need to try harder to keep my head above the crashing waves that threaten to pull me under into the darkness.
It wants to swallow me whole. As class ends, everyone packs up.
Students filter out back to their dorms.
I slip my bag over my shoulders and wait for the crowd to dissipate.
I round the hallway toward the Scion building.
“Ahh, Clara Vane,” an older male voice echoes down the darkened hallway. I spin on my heels. Mortensen Grimshaw stands before me. He's tall, well dressed, and radiates power.
“Mr. Grimshaw. What do I owe this pleasure,” I purr. Might as well milk the situation for what it's worth. This guy holds my future in the palm of his hand. He has the ability to shape the horizon; to pave the way of my success or failure.
A wry smile makes the creases of his eyes wrinkle. “My dear, walk with me?” he motions down the empty hallway toward his office. All the other students have cleared out. I nod, batting my eyelashes. Mama always says flaunt what you've got.
Manipulating situations can be all we have to stay above water in times of desperation.
He pulls the double doors open to his office.
He motions me inside. I settle into the chair with my bag resting on my lap.
The cold leather kisses my bare legs. He snicks the door shut.
The room is eerily quiet. He roves over my exposed legs across the room.
Slowly, he approaches. “I have a proposition for you, Miss Vane.”
I tap my platform shoes on the crimson rug. “Oh?” I act surprised.
He chuffs and does the same half smirk Kieran does. It makes my mouth go dry. Like father, like son, I guess.
“It is my understanding you received a scholarship. Correct?” His gaze turns predatory. I know that look. The look of a starving man. The fact he even has to ask is laughable. Vesper already gave me the 411. He approves all scholarships. He controls every aspect of this school. Of course he knows.
I fling my blonde hair over my shoulders. “Yes, sir.”
His shoes slap against the floor as he strolls across the room.
He jams his hands in his slacks. His eyes carry a glint of curiosity.
I have a feeling he can see right through me.
“I'll be frank with you, Miss Vane, do you want to retain this scholarship?”
I raise a brow. My fingertips dig into the strap of my backpack on my lap.
“Oh, of course. I have worked incredibly hard to make it this far.”
I glance around his office. How neat, meticulous, and expensive it looks.
Everything in this room cost more than I can fathom.
A globe perches on his glass table. The carved, glass statue in his display case.
I feel like an outsider in a den of wolves.
All my self-doubts come slamming into me.
As if at any moment the wool will be pulled from my eyes, and everyone will see how much I don't belong.
Get it together, Clara.
“And you would continue to work hard, yes? Do what is asked of you without complaint?” He circles me like a hawk. My eyes snap back to him.
I sink my teeth into my lip. Why all of a sudden does this seem harder than I imagined? I've lived this life before. I'm not sure why this feels different than my drugged sexual encounters. All I have to offer is…me.
I blink, staring up at him. “Yes, sir.”
His eyes shine with nefarious malevolence.
He strokes his crisp tie and stops abruptly in front of me.
His hands grasp either armrest, caging me in.
His mint aftershave slaps my face. I remain calm.
The first rule Mama taught me: don't show weakness.
Ever. “You'll make a beautiful addition to the Void, Miss Vane,” he whispers against my neck.