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What the fuck’s happened now?
“Have you seen the news?” Vance asks, his eyes wide. He’s rooting through his pockets for something.
“What news?” I shrug.
My body feels like it’s floating away from my consciousness. Or, maybe it’s the other way around. There’s nothing they can tell me that’s worse than what’s already happening to me—I let my girl walk away from me, and Graham’s brought our mum’s death back to my doorstep.
“In the SFU App,” Ezra says.
The two of them are crossing the floor toward me, each of them holding their phones. It’s almost like they’re walking in slow motion.
I flick to the app on my phone. “I’ve had it silenced for months now,” I croak. “Too many fucking notifications.”
When I open the app, a single red notification burns into my vision.
My phone falls from my hand to the lawn below.
TWO
ALIZE
Bonjour.You’ve reached the personal line of Laurent Martin. Please leave a mess—
I slam my phone against the marble countertop in frustration. That’s the twentieth time I’ve called Uncle Laurent. The message has been the same every time.
“Fuck,” I curse under my breath, covering my face with my palms.
What the hell am I going to do?
I’ve been found out.
Alexander ratted me out to the Executive Body for having the guts to break up with him, and now my time is up. I’m dead. Every student at this godforsaken school has an interest in killing me and the person who sent me here won’t even pick up the phone.
Tears burn my eyes. I clench my fists against my forehead, catching some strands of hair between my fingers. The pain dances over my scalp, minuscule compared to the tornado of emotions swirling in my chest.
Hot anger mixed with coldness of betrayal.
I always knew Alexander was a monster, but I didn’t think he would stoop this low. Does he truly hate me this much, that he’d rather see me die than live a life without him?
What a fucking cunt.
If I could, I would kill him first—even if it means I have to die, just to show him that I will never be his. That I hate him more. That his anger might be deadly, but mine can be too. The tears roll down my cheeks and the pounding in my chest vibrates through my fingertips.
This is how my life will end.
For all the times I’ve fantasized about my own death—I don’t want it right now. Not like this, at least. My shoulders shake as a sob racks my body. I don’t want this at all.
I reach for my phone again, dialing Uncle Laurent’s number.
Just then, the door knob rattles. It’s locked.
“Allie?” Tara’s voice is muffled through the heavy wooden door. She rattles the doorknob again. “Allie, are you okay in there?”
Her voice is measured, composed even.
It sounds nothing like a person who should be trying to kill me—which is all wrong. These past few months with Tara have taught me a lot about her, first of which is that she’s never what she seems.
I back away from the door.
