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11
Harper
“You as much ofan asshole as your brother?” I ask Corbin as we walk down the hall.
“Sometimes,” he says. “But I’ll let you decide for yourself.”
I can’t even believe the two of them are related. In the few interactions I’ve had with them, it’s clear Corbin is nothing like Damon. Yet, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t interested in getting to know both of them better.
“Where are we headed, anyway?” I ask. “The rooms here are pretty small for a party.”
I recall the parties in the freshmen dorms my first year of college. Everyone left their doors wide open and we would run from room to room. The RA left his door closed, ignoring the fact that there were over a dozen underage students drinking cheap beer all night long.
While I enjoyed the occasional party, I was much more interested in low-key get- togethers. Like I’d been at the night my whole life changed. I swallow hard as sadness grips my chest, making it difficult to breathe. Every time I remember my friends, it sends me back to that night and I fight with guilt and sadness and anger all at once. It’s too much. And not enough. Because I’m here and I’m alive. And they are not.
It’s not fair.
“What’s wrong?” Corbin asks.
“You don’t care what’s wrong with me,” I say.
“Sure I do,” he says.
I narrow my eyes, studying his expression. “Okay, fine. They dragged me here against my will. After killing my two best friends in front of me. Happy?”
Corbin stops walking. “I’m so sorry.”
I look away from him, not wanting to see the sympathy in his expression. It seems so genuine and I’m afraid that if I stare too long, I’ll break completely. The anger I manage to tap into seems to be the only thing keeping me going. That and the fact that I know my friends would want me to at least try.
“I’ve heard some shitty stories about reform kids who end up here,” he says. “It’s not right.”
Someone threads their arm through mine and I turn to see Damon. “We’ve got a party to get to.”
Corbin releases my hand and I’m surprised how empty I suddenly feel with it gone.
“You’re going to love this place,” Damon says.
“Your room?” I ask, not hiding my doubt.
“Maybe later, sweetheart,” he says. “Don’t be so eager.”
“I’m not eager,” I reply. “And that’s not going to happen.”
He leans closer to me and his lips brush against my ear. “It’ll happen if I want it to happen. If I wanted, you’d have no choice.”
“You wouldn’t,” I say, though there’s just enough doubt that I feel a flicker of fear.
“You’ll have to wait and see,” he says. “Maybe by the end of the night, you’ll be begging me.”
“Don’t count on it,” I say.
He shrugs and guides me down a hall lined with suits of armor. I stare at them as we walk past. This castle would look more at home in an episode of Scooby-Doo than it does as a school.
Corbin walks ahead of us and Damon doesn’t even flinch. Obviously, this is normal for them. What was the rest of this place like?
I don’t have to wonder for long as we reach a dead end. A solid gray stone wall blocks our path and I don’t even have time to ask a question before Corbin walks right through the wall.
Right through it. As if it’s not even there.
