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Bianaca

“Purgatory?” I stared into Heath’s arresting face as he continued offering me that pretty boy, manic smile.

A semi-hysterical laugh escaped me, entirely unbidden, as something twisted inside my stomach. It felt cold and slimy, coiling around my organs until even breathing was a chore. My heart hammered in tandem to my racing thoughts.

What the fuck did Heath mean?

Did he truly believe that we were in Purgatory?

I knew something strange was happening, felt it in every fiber of my being, butthis?

No. I couldn’t believe it.

Wouldn’tbelieve it.

“It’s different than what you believe,” Heath continued, gently brushing back a strand of his immaculately straight brown hair. He was so beautiful, so handsome, that it physically hurt me to stare directly at him. I imagined it would be similar to staring at the sun—you had to shield your eyes against the blistering rays or risk going blind.

We sat facing each other on the comfortable couch in Heath’s dorm room. I won one secret from him in a game of poker, so I used the opportunity to ask him about the mysteries surrounding this school. Since Heath was the student body president appointed by the professors, Aiden and the others had assumed he would know something, anything, that would help aid us with our escape.

And as they’d hoped, Heath sang like a canary, but with the stipulation that we take him with us when we left.

Though…

I couldn’t help but wonder if he had a few screws loose.

“Don’t look at me like that, doll.” He flashed another disarming grin, one that didn’t quite reach his icy eyes. I couldn’t help but think they were the eyes of a sociopath, though it did the exact opposite of scare me away.

Heat unfurled in my lower stomach as I held his stare.

“Look at you like what?” I whispered.

“Like I’m crazy.” He shrugged his broad shoulders, the movement drawing attention to the way his golden skin bulged beneath his thin gray T-shirt. “Because I’m not. I’m actually the only sane one here.”

“Heath…” I scratched at my wrist absently, not even caring when my nails dug in hard enough to break skin. “What you’re saying…”

“Is insane, I know.” Another smile. Another sweep of hair that had fallen into his eyes. Another wave of heat in my stomach. “But I’m telling you the truth.” The smile faded as quickly as it appeared, leaving me feeling oddly bereft, as if I were empty without his signature grin directed my way. “As I said before, Purgatory isn’t what you think. Time stops here. A student could be here for years, but in real life, it’s mere seconds. Purgatory also doesn’t mean you’re dead. Actually, you’re still alive, hanging on to a tiny sliver of life. I know—”

“Stop.” I shook my head from side to side rapidly, unsure if I should believe the words spewing from his mouth. He spoke matter-of-factly, like he was telling me the sky was blue and the grass was green, but his words were ludicrous. Absolutely insane.

“Bianaca.” He gave me a look I would almost describe as…disapproving? What the hell?

“Heath, you have to know that this is completely insane,” I reiterated. My nails dug into another section of skin on my wrist, and more blood welled. His eyes traveled to my butchered wrist, and something akin to fascination entered his eyes. He stared at my blood as if he’d never seen anything like that before, as if he didn’t know what to do with it or me.

“You don’t believe me. I understand that, and I’m not going to force you to listen.” He reclined back on the couch, the posture somehow abating the tension thrumming through the air. It felt like I could finally breathe, finally swallow mouthfuls of air. “But if you ever want the truth…” He trailed off with a pointed look in my direction, and a part of me wanted to beg him to tell me everything he knew.

Another part wanted to run as fast and as far as my legs could take me.

But most of all, I wanted to scream and cry, because his words resonated within me with a sort of finality that had my head reeling.

Purgatory.

Purgatory.

Purgatory.

I met his eyes, so empty and lifeless, and tightened my hand into a fist on my thigh. Determination coursed through me.