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There’s something about my life that feel so surreal, that I feel like I’m watching a movie rather than living it. And even as I’m watching everything unfold live, in front of my eyes, it’s still not feeling real.
I’ve changed so much over the last couple of years, that if you had told me I was going to end up getting off on showering in front of a guy who absolutely loathed me, I’d have laughed.
I’m not sure if this version of me is stronger or weaker. Maybe I’m finding some weird defense mechanism to get through this, and years from now, I’m going to need thousands of dollars’ worth of therapy. And I’m really not sure how long I’ll be able to do this for…
While I never imagined a time where I’d have to strip and shower like that in front of anyone, I wasn’t shy or unconfident with my body. I liked my figure. When I had money, I dressed to show it off. From about the age of fourteen, I’d been aware of what power my body held.
Besides, it wasn’t like I hadn’t been naked on an altar while Syn, Royal, and Gemini filled every hole with their cocks.
It’s a little late to be shy.
And I’m sure Syn would enjoy it more if he thinks I hate it.
Getting naked in front of him isn’t something I’m desperate to do, but the moment I saw how hard he was? That was the moment I started to enjoy it.
Guys can’t control their boners… blah, blah, blah.
Whether that’s because of me or because the blood in his body chose, by complete coincidence, at that moment to rush straight to his dick, the fact is, he’d gotten hard in front of me.
That had to have killed him.
Some of the things that Syn has put in place to torment me—or at least what I think he’s trying to do—are more irritating than tormenting.
Clothes, being at the top of the list.
I’m not sure if he’s got a dedicated closet in his bedroom, but before I can go to sleep, I need to go to his room to get my nightwear. Last night, it was a skimpy yet silky nightgown.
Back in my dorm room, where someone had messed around with my air conditioning and set it to permanently blast out arctic air, that dress would have been an issue, but even sleeping in a dog bed, this house is warm.
Well, I’d pulled the bedding out of the basket so I could stretch my legs out—but I still had covers to curl up under. While this one does burn me, especially with what Syn was inferring, this won’t be the thing that breaks me. It was still comfier to sleep on than the secondhand bunk bed in my mom’s apartment back in Jersey.
Last night, Syn also handed over my first set of clothes for today: the maid uniform.
I was certain he’d have done something to make it different than the others. Honestly, I’d be less surprised if the outfit consisted of nipple tassels and just the maid apron. Instead, I put it on, and while it’s more suited to a Halloween party than a real place of work, there don’t seem to be any nasty surprises. I also look good in it.
Doris, the dining hall manager, sees me when I walk in wearing the outfit and presses her lips together. The kitchens open two hours before the breakfast service so the kitchen staff can prepare the food. After having worked there until recently, I’m no stranger to the process.
Given that Doris seems more surprised it’s me rather than any other student, I’m sure she’s been informed that the Elite initiations are ongoing and to allow someone in before the dining hall opens.
She walks over to me, folds her arms and looks me up and down with her lips pursed. “When you left here, I never thought you’d end up in this.”
My leaving consisted of me quitting before she could fire me because Lissa had thrown a fit, accusing me of throwing things at her. If I hadn’t quit, and Doris didn’t fire me, Lissa’s dad would have probably got the whole kitchen staff fired.
“Sometimes you’ve gotta do what you gotta do,” I told her, dryly.
Her eyes finally stop flicking up and down as she takes in my appearance, her attention lingering on my collar before her gaze settles on my face.
“I’m sure that at your age, it doesn’t seem like it, but there are much more important things in life than money, and I’m not sure you’re going to find them with these people, Ms. Tori.” She glances around her before taking a step closer and lowering her voice. “You’d be safer making a deal with the devil himself.”
I never told Doris who I really am, but considering how the first half of this semester went down, she has to know by now.
The fact that she says that—while looking genuinely concerned for me—makes my heart swell. These days, it feels like there are so few people in my life looking out for me.
Doris is one of those women with genes that make it impossible to say how old she is. She could be in her early forties, but I suspect she’s older. She has dark skin, with few blemishes and even fewer wrinkles. Her hair is kept short, with the ends of her curls dyed a crimson red, which today, match her lipstick.
I had needed the job in the kitchen because although I’d managed to get a scholarship, I still needed money. I’d also hoped that behind the swinging doors and in the kitchens, the staff would know the secrets the college was hiding so well.
But if anyone did know any details to help me find out what happened the night James Patrick Keyingham was murdered, no one here was talking.
