Saint was looking at me. His eyes were burning with the fires of hell, his face illuminated by the cruelty, his lips turned up in the most evil of smiles.
I hunted for mercy in Blake’s eyes, but there was nothing but a hard wall of fury awaiting me in them. I wanted to beg and plead and force them to listen. But I knew no words could save me. They’d made up their minds. I was their enemy. The daughter of the man who’d unleashed a plague on the world. But it couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t be.
“Show her what you think of her!” Blake called to the room and a rush of movement made me flinch as bowl after bowl of cold stew was flung over me.
I started running, fleeing, my heart crashing against my chest as I fought to breathe through the suffocating odour. I could hardly see through the blinding red fog and my feet hooked over someone’s leg, tripping me so I fell sprawling to the ground. I did the only thing I could and curled up under the waterfall of fish chunks and sticky red sauce that washed over me, screaming and kicking as I tried to strike at anyone close enough to hit.
When the attack slowed, a new horror found me. My voice was being played through speakers all around the room, breathy and seductive. I recognised the words I’d spoken to Blake this morning when he’d come back from speaking with his father. But they’d been edited to make it sound like I was admitting something to him.
“Did you know about the things your father was doing?” Blake’s voice echoed out over the speakers.
“Daddy?... I knew.” It was my voice, but he’d edited the things I’d said to make it sound like I was answering questions which I’d never even heard him speak.
“And you knew he was going to do this to the world before you decided to hide away here at our school?” Blake asked angrily.
“Yeah. I knew the whole time.” I was practically panting as I said that and it was so fucking obvious to me that the whole thing had been put together, but the rest of the students didn’t seem to agree, booing and jeering as they swallowed the lies they were being fed. My heart felt like it was tearing down the middle and all I could see between the red stew which half blinded me was hate-filled faces and accusing glares.
That audio played over again to drive the lies home before the sound of me panting and crying out with an orgasm echoed off of the walls just to humiliate me more.
“You piece of trash!” someone shouted then a chorus of insults filled the room, drowning out the sounds of me and Blake having sex.
“Gutter whore!”
“Daddy fucker!”
“You worthless bitch!”
Worse than all of it was the icy laughter that carried from the Night Keepers’ table. I didn’t look their way as I pushed myself to my feet and stew slid off of my clothes, dripping onto the floor. I was shaking all over, my skin burning with embarrassment, shame, rage. I ran for the door again and this time I made it outside, dragging down the fresh air as I tried to fight the bile rising in my throat.
I raced for Beech House, not stopping for a second until I reached the showers on the third floor. I wrenched a door open to one of the units, tossing my phone out of my pocket before flipping the switch on and stepping under the powerful flow of water fully clothed.
By the time the pungent stew had washed from my eyes, I was crying, shock and dismay wracking through my body as I tried to process what had just happened.
I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think clearly, couldn’t process what the hell had just happened to me or how.
This can’t be real. It can’t be true.
I stripped out of my uniform and dropped to the bottom of the shower, hugging my legs to my chest as the water raced over my flesh and turned red as it washed away the stew before running down the drain. I ran my fingers over the rose-shaped scar on my forearm; if internal wounds left scars, I imagined my insides would be riddled with them soon.
I stayed there until the tears stopped flowing and the panic in my chest had started to ease. I was hated. Despised. The entire school were holding me responsible for