Page 14 of Conquered (Highgate Preparatory Academ:y Compendium)

CHAPTER ONE

LILLY

W ell, this sucks hairy goat balls.

I continue walking up the long arse gravel drive, my muscles quivering and feet stomping.

Luckily, I'm wearing flats, even if my feet are soaked through because it's pissing down. My nostrils flare as I recall that my bags are also fucking drenched from being thrown in a puddle, all because the Uber guy thought he’d try to take liberties.

I dick punched him for his troubles, the only light in an otherwise shitty situation, which he didn't take kindly to, so he tossed my luggage out and dumped me by the side of the road.

I might be new to this country, but fuck him and his misogynistic belief that just because I've got tits and a vag, I must be interested!

There is literally a river running down the drive, soaking my feet even more, and for a moment, the clear water is replaced with streams of scarlet, and I flinch as painful memories flood my mind from six months earlier…

R ed.

A whole room painted in shades of red.

Ribbons of dark crimson flow across the white lino floor, unstoppable in their path. I watch, fascinated, as the glistening ruby touches the toes of my yellow TOMS when I take a step, like a blotted ink spill.

Damn, these shoes were favourites of mine. The thought darts across my mind like a bird, flying away before I can grasp it.

My eyes follow the river to its source, lying there so still, in a pure white peaceful serenity. I walk towards her, swallowing with difficulty as a sour taste fills my mouth. I leave sticky cardinal footprints behind me, like some kind of macabre breadcrumb trail.

Time stops as a sharp pain hits my knees when I fall to the floor, breaking the crusty skin of the pool of blood, like custard left out too long. I’d expect it to feel hot against my leggings, but it’s cool, as if it was never warm at all.

My mind refuses to believe what it’s seeing, my eyes frenzied and watering as I try to take in the scene before me. Here is the woman who was there for me my whole life. Who gave birth to me, loved me, even when we fought like cats and dogs.

A strange sense of numbness settles over me like a cape, shielding me from the maelstrom of my anguish. The searing pain and hurt that I can sense lies just below the surface.

Nausea rolls round in my stomach as I break out in a sweat, and my muscles start to cramp, but I can barely feel the pain.

Reaching out with trembling fingers, I brush her once shiny dyed red hair away from her pale face.

My eyes search her body, trying to find the source of the blood leaking out of her, to see if it can be plugged.

My hands frantically press into the cold liquid, lips trembling when they come away stained with the claret of life.

As I study them, my chest feels tight when a line that Lady Macbeth says flits into my mind, fluttering round like a butterfly demanding to be noticed.

‘ W hat will these hands ne’er be clean?’

I always thought red was such a warm colour before. But now it’s as cold as ice, burning my skin where it touches it.

My eyes squeeze shut and I want to run, to flee, to escape from what’s in this room. I beg any god that exists in this world to release me from this torment.

I can hear frantic voices far away, someone sobs and vomits behind me, but the wind rushing past my ears makes it impossible to hear anything clearly at all.

I breathe deeply through my nose, shaking my head to try and clear it, but the tangy scent of old copper pennies overwhelms me, and suddenly the wind is howling round me so viciously, my eyes fly open and I'm surprised the room isn't being torn apart in its violence.

Black starts to creep in round the edges, the blissful dark of ignorance welcoming me in its comforting embrace. I fall into it gladly, accepting the oblivion with open arms until I am nothing. No one.

And the red ribbons no longer exist.

I stop my walk, hanging my head, and take a moment, trying to catch my breath and blinking away the vision.

A fresh start, remember?

A new beginning and a chance to become a new person, not just the girl that found her dead – I shut the thought off, feeling heavy inside, and continue my way up the drive in this godforsaken rain.

Finally I arrive outside the stone facade of Highgate Preparatory Academy, apparently the best high school in the west. Snort.

It's nestled on the edge of the Rockies, surrounded by forests and amazing views, according to their website. None of which I can currently appreciate given that it’s dark.

I'm soaked to the bone from the pouring rain, and fucking exhausted from a long arse journey.

We’re certainly not in Kansas anymore; well, London if we’re being really pedantic , I think, rolling my eyes at myself as I walk up the smooth stone steps and knock on the huge wooden panelled front doors, the sound echoing in the darkness.

“You can do this, Lilly,” I whisper under my breath, a rolling feeling in my stomach as I try to gather courage when I hear ominous footsteps on the other side, growing louder as they approach me.

Why does it feel like I’m waiting outside the gates of Hell?

It's just a high school, the same as many others, I'm sure. Well, perhaps not exactly the same. Highgate is a private high school for the rich, privileged, and no doubt, arseholes of the western world. And this is my senior year. Dear lord .

One of the impressive wooden doors opens with a sinister creak— could this be any more like an old school hammer horror film?

! —and a tall skeletal man with a hook nose and small beady eyes peers down at me.

His thin lips are downturned, like I just washed up from a stagnant swamp, and not just got soaked in an autumn downpour.

Shoulders back, stiff upper lip, and all that .

“Lilly Darling, I presume?” he sniffs in a nasally voice, posture unwavering. “You’re late,” he sneers, eyes cold, before I’ve even had a chance to answer.

What a prick!

“M–My flight was delayed…” I stammer.

No! I think to myself. Don’t let this crow make you feel like shit. Pull up those lady balls and stare him the fuck down.

I straighten my spine, stand taller, and give him my best bitch glare.

“Hmph…” he scoffs cruelly. “Follow me.”

Wow. His mother clearly gave up on teaching him manners. Perhaps she left the nest he was born in when she saw his ugly maw. I mean, it’s not even a face a mother could love.

He turns sharply on his heels and walks away, back ramrod straight, expecting me to follow like the twatwaffle that he clearly is. I quickly grab my holdall and small suitcase, step inside, and gape.

Jesus wept .

This place is insane. Remember that great TV show a few years back called Downton Abbey?

It’s like that, but bigger. I’m standing in a huge entrance hall with a sweeping central staircase that Crow the Cuntmuffin, as he shall forever be named, is already halfway up.

I can't see much else because it's so dark, although I do notice marble floors sparkling in the moonlight from the windows, and so many wooden doors I lose count.

Scrambling to catch up, I briefly notice the dark wood doors that are running along the ground floor on either side of me are carved, although I can’t quite see what the images are.

I moan aloud as my shoes touch the Persian rug, it’s so thick I swear I sink several inches.

How awesome would this feel barefoot? I cringe when I realise I'm probably leaving wet footprints on it, then shrug. If Crow the Cuntmuffin has to clean them up, then it’s not so bad.

“Ahem.”

I look up, and Crow is at the top of the stairs, peering down at me like I’m dog shit. My cheeks flush a little with embarrassment at being caught ogling the carpet. Straightening my shoulders once again, I decide to screw him and his priggish ways by not hurrying.

This wanker and I are going to have a falling out soon . Fuck him and his opinions seven ways to Sunday.

I notice he keeps glancing dismissively down his beak nose at me, his upper lip curling and giving me a 'hurry the fuck up' look. So I slow down my assent even more, making sure my soaked suitcase bangs loudly against each step, ‘cause I’m petty like that.

“Hey, I hear ginger, honey, and lemon are great for sore throats. Sounds like you’ve got a doozy of one.” I smile sweetly at him, although it may be more of a baring my teeth type of grin.

His lips tighten and become so thin, they almost disappear. He clears his throat again, the snarky bastard.

As he continues on, he addresses me derisively without bothering to look back, “You were supposed to have your guide show you the way round this establishment today, then join us all in the Dining Hall for a welcoming feast. But as you couldn’t bring yourself to be on time, your guide has gone to bed. ”

It’s fascinating really. It's like he’s dead inside and just waiting for good ole Grim to whisk him away. “I’m to show you to your dormitory, and you must report to the office tomorrow morning. Eight o’clock sharp.”

The look he gives me over his shoulder is one of such dismissal, it’s like I don’t exist. Like I'm not even a mote of dust. Fucking Cockwomble .

We carry on along the lavish hallway, and I notice that all of the portraits lining the duck egg blue walls are of stuffy old men. All in formal clothing with severe looks on their faces, and some even have hooked noses.

Wow. Looks like Crow here is in good company .

He pauses outside a single, dark door, carved with some sort of biblical scene. I raise a brow at what I think is Lucifer being thrown out of heaven. That's...aspirational?

“This is your dorm,” he indicates coldly as he takes out a keychain with two beautiful scrolling old-fashioned keys on it.

“You share it with four others.” He’s almost smirking.

.. hmmm ...mustn’t be anything good if it brings him joy.

Maybe the other girls I’m sharing with are as uptight as this wanker?