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The second floor balcony calls to me as it overlooks the foyer and my fingers itch to see what’s hiding there. Occasionally, a student or two will scurry past me, so I wait until the area is quiet again before climbing the stairs once more, feeling more determined than ever. Halfway up, I gauge the distance between the banister bordering the second floor and where I stand on the stairs. It’s a good eight to ten feet, and the drop from here to the foyer’s floor below is not one I want to risk. I would likely break a leg or an arm—and Bitterwood is thelastplace I want to be injured.
The weak don’t survive here.
I take a deep breath, and climb over the stairs’ railing, pressing it firmly to my back as I balance myself on the edge and eye up the second floor balcony. Precision is of utmost importance, but so is discretion—I need to hurry up before anyone sees me because I don’t want other students getting any ideas. Thanking my parents for years of rock climbing lessons, I coil down until my torso is sunk between my legs and my knees are near my ears as if I’m a frog...then I jump. It’s quite literally one of the biggest leaps of faith I’ve ever taken, but what Remington Radcliffe wants, she gets—and I’m determined to see what Principal Windsor is hiding on this floor.
My left hand makes contact with the top of the decorative wooden banister on the second floor, but my grip slips on the polished surface as I try to reach up with my other hand. With a burst of energy, I swing my right hand up and firmly grasp a wooden baluster holding up the slippery railing. Panic squeezes my chest because now I’m dangling between the second and first floors for anyone to see. But even worse, I don’t know how much longer I can hold on.
Using my weight, my fingers straining to maintain my grip, I swing like a pendulum until I have enough momentum to get a foot shoved between two of the posts. I belt out an exhausted grunt, hoping the wood is strong enough to hold me, and pull myself up until I’m standing on the outside of the rail. I hike my right leg over, and topple gracelessly to the tiled floor on the other side. I’m safe. It wasn’t perfect, but it’s still a success.
Relief washes through me, and I straighten up, testing my legs and arms for any injuries, grateful everything seems to be ok. With my eyes wide and all my senses alert, I dissect the area in front of me. Immediately, I notice the second floor is similar to the third with a hallway on both the west and east side. But whereas the third floor stairs open to a landing that immediately leads left or right, the landing in front of me is lined with doors. I move to my right facing the hallway that stretches east. If I go down there, it will place me under my dorm room.
Gunfire rings out and I flatten myself to the ground as pained cries follow the deafening shots. My pulse skyrockets as I crawl across the ground, away from the banister, and head towards the corridor. Halfway down I stand back up and study the four doors here, two on my left and two on my right. An intricate scene is carved into the wood paneling in here, depicting what appears to be a gruesome hunting scene…and humans are the prey.I pull my gaze away and try both handles at once, attempting to pry open the doors, but just like most of the doors I’ve come across, they’re locked.
“Shit,” I grit out as I swivel around, and try the doors on the opposite side, unable to open them either. Huffing, I walk back down the hall to the landing, sneaking a quick peek down to the first floor. The crying student is now silent as more of my peers pass by, but none look up and see me. I turn around, keeping the banister at my back, and face the north wall housing three, evenly-spaced, single doors. Although I doubt any are unlocked, I try them, but the handles don’t even budge.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Vexed, I march over to the left side and down the west hall, where I find only a single pair of doors to my left—obviously, locked. But unlike the other corridor, the right side of this one is curiously door-free, and I wonder...
Could the doors be hidden like the elevators?
Crouching down once more, I run my hands along the sleek paneling, hoping to feel a discrepancy eluding to a hidden door or room. I walk the length of the hall once, ready to give up. But on the way back out of the dead-end corridor, my finger sinks past the paneling into an open space. With excitement coursing through me, I push my whole hand through, and realize I’ve found a secret door that slides to theright—which is why I didn’t find anything when I first tried. With a shaking hand, I work the panel open to reveal an office I’m sure students aren’t meant to be in.
The first thing I notice after I slip inside, is a wall lined with TV screens all showing various feeds of Bitterwood and its occupants. It’s obvious from the outfits worn by the students and the frantic way they’re all rushing around the grounds, that this feed is live. The sight makes me sick—there are cameraseverywhere—even the dorm rooms. My tantrum from earlier comes to mind, and I sway as my stomach twists, taking in the ruined bedding of the dorm room I destroyed on one of the screens.
Inhaling deeply, I will myself to remain calm, trying not to worry that I was seen ruining school property and risk punishment…again. Because right now, I need to search this office for anything I can use to escape before someone returns, nothing else matters.
The office is about the size of Principal Windsor’s, but there are no animal heads lining the walls. Instead, tasteful abstract art in gaudy frames hangs, the two somehow working together. Familiar wood paneling found throughout Bitterwood divides the walls in half horizontally. It’s a rich mahogany in color, contrasting the paneling outside of the office, and the walls above are painted a darker cream. Like Principal Windsor’s office, everything is accented in gold and gleaming wooden furniture, from the large desk on my left, opposing the wall with the screens to the rows of shelving behind it. To my right, is an oversized, stuffed leather chair that looks too pompous to be inviting—clearly, the thing is for show only.
Wandering over to the desk, I note the stacks of papers piled high and quickly shuffle through them. When I find nothing of interest, I start opening drawers. Again, nothing. I let out a frustrated groan and step back, scanning the room. I run my eyes along the decorative shelves when my gaze snags on something shiny—the fucking gold key from Principal Windsor’s slideshow with a small, red tag attached to it.
Bingo.
Adrenaline has my heart pounding as I grasp the third shelf and start climbing, prepared to get to the top and claim my prize when someone loudly clears their throat. I freeze, more than halfway up, refusing to turn around because I know—I fucking know—who’s standing there. Sweat drips down my spine, and my clammy hands begin to lose traction on the shelf I’m holding, but still, I refuse to let go and turn around. I would rather childishly pretend this isn’t happening.
“Students aren’t supposed to be in here, Ms. Radcliffe,” the deep voice intones, causing my mind to traitorously recallexactlywhat this man does to me. “Get down.” This time the voice is right beneath me, and I find the calm, coolness to his words is unnerving. I shriek like a frightened little girl as strong hands yank me from my perch. I’m turned around in the air before, none other than Professor Vaughn, sets me on my feet. He stares down at me, an unfathomable expression in his dark, blue eyes. “This room isn’t for students.”
Fury coils inside of me. I hate him—loathe him with every fiber of my being—and yet... I don’t. Steeling my spine, I find my courage and straighten before him. “Too bad. I’m not leaving—you have something I want. That Ineed.”
Professor Vaughn raises a brow as his heated gaze sweeps my form head to toe, my unintentionally provocative words eliciting an unintended reaction from him. “And what would that be,princess?”
I scowl at the horrid nickname but remind myself you catch more flies with honey than vinegar. Forcing a small smile to my lips, I confess, “That key up there.”
He tips his head back to take in the golden object, nodding thoughtfully. “Clever girl. You can have it—” Surprised elation courses through me. “—for a price.”
My heart hammers in my chest, and my mouth is suddenly dry. “Whatprice?”
The tone of his voice lowers, heavy with seduction, and he licks his lips before tugging on a lock of my hair that has fallen out of my ponytail. “I’ll give you the key, princess, but you’re going to have toearnit.”
Professor Vaughn doesn’t say it, but we both know what it will cost me to get it. He wants to humiliate me by making me play the whore, but the jokes on him. Everyone knows the seductress is the one in power. I’m going to leave his office with more than just my prize.
I’m going to walk away with a piece of Vaughn’s black soul.
