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My hands squeeze into fists.
However, before I can do something stupid like charging in there and demanding those answers from Alina so that I can set the world on fire for her, another woman approaches the door.
I release the handle and draw back so that I’m standing on the other side of the door instead.
A second later, a blonde girl with nervous brown eyes walks out the door. She only manages to take two steps before the door falls shut behind her and I become visible.
Her hand flies to her mouth as she gasps in surprise.
Fear floods her features a second later.
“I’m sorry,” she blurts out.
Fury sears through me. My fingers close around the hilt of a knife as I take a threatening step towards her. “You made her cry?”
“What? No.” She stumbles backwards until her back hits the gray concrete wall behind her. Fear and panic and confusion pulse in her eyes. “Who?”
“Alina Petrov,” I grind out between gritted teeth, and then nod towards the closed door to the locker room. “She’s crying in there. Are you saying that you made her cry?”
“No! God, no. I swear.”
“Then why did you apologize?”
Desperation floods her features, and she looks up at me pleadingly as if begging me to tell her what the right answer is. When she only finds a murderous expression staring back at her, she stammers, “For… existing?”
I force out a controlled breath, trying to compose myself again. There is no need to murder this particular individual since it’s now very clear that she is not the reason why Alina is currently sitting on the floor, bawling her eyes out.
However, the quick switch in my manners from furious and threatening to cold and lethal calm does nothing to reassure the woman in front of me. In fact, it seems to have the opposite effect, because she is now visibly trembling against the wall.
“Just tell me what happened,” I demand. “In detail.”
Rage slices through my chest when she explains what two of their classmates said to Alina, and I have to clench and unclench my hand repeatedly to keep the emotions from my features. Only a blank emotionless mask remains on my face as I listen to her explain the situation.
“Who?” I snap when she’s done.
“Jane and Leslie,” she stammers.
I don’t know the names of all the first-years so I ask, “Do you have a photo of them?”
She gives me a jerky nod and quickly pulls out her phone. After scrolling for a few seconds, she holds up the screen to me. But her hand is shaking so badly that I can’t even see the photo. I wrap my hand over hers, holding it still.
A whimper escapes her lips, as if she’s afraid that I’m going to break her wrist.
Once the phone is finally still, I can make out the faces of the two girls in the photo. One blond and one with brown hair. Both of them blue-eyed and smiling like they think they’re better than everyone else.
“Where are they now?” I ask.
She swallows. “They usually go to that little wooden screen thing outside behind the canteen building to smoke before the next class.”
Nodding, I release her hand after burning the image of Jane and Leslie into my mind. Then I level a commanding stare on the woman before me.
“This conversation never happened,” I declare. “Understood?”
She nods desperately. “Y-yes. Yes, understood.”
Without another word, I spin on my heel and stalk down the hall.
All sorts of plans swirl through my brain as I make my way towards that wooden wind shelter behind the canteen building where Jane and Leslie should be. Most of those plans end with me bathing in their blood.
