Page 24 of Speak No Claim

I wasn’t going to find a rainforest in my backyard to exchange with. If I snipped a plant clipping, I left an offering in its place as an even trade with Mother Nature.

I had quite a bit of money saved from working since I could basically walk. My family always paid me. They were adamant about it. Even when I tried to refuse. I wasn’t much of a spender, buying things that I needed more than anything. My Apple laptop, an iPad, my cell phone, things like that were what I spent my savings on.

What little I did see, there was nothing alive in my uncle’s house. It was cold, with no touch of a woman. The chef’s food was pretty bland, with little flavor. There were also no snacks. The chef asked me to make a list of the food and drinks I enjoyed so they could buy them for me, but I didn’t want them to waste money.

I decided I’d buy my own groceries. I just had to find the nearest store to purchase them. In the meantime, I ate what the chef cooked. Tío did own quite an obscene amount of alcohol, bottles that looked like they’d been around for centuries.

I still wanted to explore the town, but considering I probably made a fool of myself to most of the people who lived there the other night, I couldn’t find the desire to venture out.

Back home, the Amazon breathed with life. Birds argued with the sunrise while insects sang until dawn. Even the river had its own beat, reminding you life never truly stopped. Here, it felt as though his estate was holding its breath. Just waiting for I don’t know what.

My gaze drifted to the ripped-up dress folded across the velvet chair in the corner of the room. Mud stained the hem, but I reached for it anyway, my fingertips brushing over the torn fabric. It was a reminder that the night had been real and that every person at the party had looked at me like I was something they couldn’t quite place.

An outsider, or maybe I was just an inconvenience. A source of entertainment that they could play with. I wasn’t sure which one was worse. I pushed away the thought, crossing toward the window and onto the balcony. The view truly did steal the air from my lungs.

Morning fog rolled across perfectly trimmed gardens, swallowing marble statues one moment before revealing them the next. It was probably why I couldn’t shake the feeling that somewhere behind the mist, I was being watched.

I forced myself away from the balcony. There was no point delaying the inevitable. Folded neatly at the foot of the bed sat the uniform I’d been given yesterday. Pressed perfectly, it looked untouched by human hands.

For a moment, I only stared at it. The black-and-white pleated skirt, the crisp white, collared button-down shirt, a black vest with a matching black blazer, tailored precisely as if they’d already known my measurements.

My gaze settled on the embroidered crest stitched over the left breast pocket, directly above the heart. Even their emblem looked as if it were daring you to survive. I slipped on the skirt first, smoothing the heavy fabric over my hips before fastening the waistband. It fit as though it’d been made for only me.

It was somehow more unsettling than if it hadn’t fit at all. The blouse followed, rough against my skin, and then I put on the vest, which cinched my waist tighter than I thought it would. By the time I shrugged into the blazer, I barely recognized the girl staring back from the floor-length mirror.

She looked like she belonged here.

It was the biggest lie of them all.

The expensive fabric couldn’t erase who I was, and it only made the whispers in my ear much louder, they repeated over and over again to run. I reached up, touching the crest against my fingers. These uniforms weren’t meant to express yourself for who you were. They were a reminder of who you were expected to be.

Everything that made me still existed, and I needed to remember that more than ever before. This Academy wouldn’t strip my identity, no matter how hard it tried.

Today wasn’t just my first day of classes at a new university. No, it was far from that. It was the first day I’d willingly step into the lion’s den instead of running from it.

Taking a deep breath, I walked over to the vanity in my en suite bathroom to do something with my wavy hair. I thought about putting it up, but at the last second decided to just leave it down. Outside, the Connecticut air carried autumn, and the crisp breeze gave my hair more volume.

I reached for the small makeup bag I brought with me and applied some mascara and a little eyeliner to accentuate my dark brown eyes. I ended it off with blush and a nude lip stain. After I was done, I caught myself in the mirror one last time before I grabbed a pair of black knee-highs from my dresser and then my black boots.

Picking up my backpack on the way out of my bedroom, I paused at the door, trying to settle the anxiousness of what was to come. My boots clicked against the marble floors, echoing through the hallway. Once I was in the kitchen, I grabbed a muffin on my way out the garage door, running into Alfred.

“Your chariot awaits,” he greeted, gesturing to his SUV.

“I’m good.” I stepped past him. “I can walk.”

“Miss—”

I turned, still backing away. “I said I could walk.”

He eyed me for a second. “Are you upset about the other night?”

“What do you think?”

“Miss Belladonna⁠—”

“I told you not to call me that.”

He didn’t falter in replying, “I’m ordered to.”