Page 41

FORTY

FREYA

FEbrUARY, 2018

After Stella died, a part of Blackthorn died with her. The academy wasn’t the same. We weren’t the same.

Cassius and Ava left for Switzerland, retreating to one of their estates, planning to return when things calmed down.

Jack Blackthorn, Victor Aracelis, and Hector Cruz Smith were arrested for assaulting Adeline and several other students. They were taken away, and though we never knew much about Oscar, people accused him of not telling the truth. He was paying for his father’s sins, so he decided to leave Blackthorn.

After seeing how he fought for Adeline, my grandmother spoke with Dean Sinclaire, and now he was part of our family too. She also received an offer to become the new Madame Dean of Blackthorn Academy , which she accepted, feeling she owed it to her best friend and Adeline.

Luna stayed, helping Blue, trying to redeem herself. Blue, in turn, came forward and revealed that she was Olivia Oxton—Adeline’s sister.

My grandmother finally told Dean and me where my mother was, and today, I was going to visit her. She had admitted herself to a mental hospital for the seventh time. She had never really left, she just always tried to get better for me, always falling into the same cycle. She wanted to be better, but she didn’t know when that day would come. Still, she wanted to talk about it.

I hadn’t seen Lucius for a month now, though I occasionally heard his voice when he called. Every night, I cried myself to sleep, but I knew he had to leave to clear his head. He said he was searching for something from his past that would give him a reason to be better for me.

I stood outside the Paisley mental hospital, my fists clenched at my sides, my legs making their way slowly to the door. I breathed deeply and stepped inside.

At the front desk, the nurse worked away on the computer.

“I’m here to see Cordelia Sinclaire.” I approached her and said.

“Wait,” she replied, verifying the system, then motioning to another nurse to come over. The woman nodded at me. “Come with me.”

We walked down the quiet corridors to the large room that served as the common room. My mom played at the table with another woman. She jumped up from the table at once when she noticed me.

She wrapped her hands around me. “Oh, foxy fox, you’re here,” she whispered, sliding her hand under mine. “Let’s go to the garden.”

I nodded silently, allowing her to bring me to the small garden and the stone bench beside the rose bed. The sun warmed the world up and made it seem more vibrant. We sat down together, and as I sat down I took her hand and drew her into another hug.

“Mom, I missed you,” I whispered, with a tear rolling down my cheek.

“Sweetie, I’ve missed you too,” she said, gently pushing me back and wiping away my tears.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you…?” I started, but she interrupted me.

“Foxy fox,” she smiled gently, “children should never worry about the problems their parents have. We are here to worry about children.”

“That’s not true,” I said, taking her hand in mine. “But why are you here? What did the doctor say? What do you have?”

She chuckled. “Too many questions for so little time.” Then, after a pause, she added, “I have a few diagnoses, but the reason I’m here is schizophrenia.”

She sighed. “I started to see your dad in every face I saw and I got afraid and paranoid. I could not look after you so it was easier for me to leave and find help.”

“And what about Dad?” I asked. “Does he know?”

“He knew,” she whispered. “He knew it all. That’s why he beat me to try to ‘cure’ me with his fists.“ She wept. “But it’s okay. He has his new family now… and I have you.”

She stood in front of me and talked to me, but her eyes were distant, almost empty as if she were somewhere else. I was afraid, my heart was pounding.

“Did you speak to him?” I asked warily.

“Who?” she asked, blinking.

“Dad,” I inquired. “Where is he now?”

“He’s in London,” she said.

I started to open my mouth to continue asking questions but she spoke up again. “Sweetie, we left for a reason. If he decides to start over, that’s okay. It’s okay to move on. Don’t go where I went. Don’t follow him thinking that it will be different with you. It won’t. You’ll just find yourself stuck in the same circle I was stuck in and it will just keep going until you decide to stop it.”

“Mom,” I sighed. “I didn’t want to—“

I lied. I’d wanted to see him. To ask him why he’d done what he’d done. How it was that he could hit me, his daughter. But maybe she’d been right. Maybe ghosts were supposed to stay in the past.

A nurse approached us in the garden. “Sorry, visiting hours are over. You can come back another day.”

“Okay,” I said, standing up and taking Mom in a tight hug. “Mom, I will have to head back to Blackthorn soon,” I sighed. “Would it be okay if I came back in a month?”

“Of course,” she said, her eyes looking away from me, anywhere but at me.

“Okay,” I whispered, hugging her once more before I kissed her cheek. “I’ll see you soon.”

The nurse walked me out while she stayed behind in the garden. Although I felt heavy inside, I was glad that I had spoken to her. She was okay. And if this facility brought her peace, then it was for her best.

I passed the table inside, and something caught my eye. Mom and a woman who was with her earlier played tic-tac-toe with A and O. I paused, looking at the board, at the way someone had drawn through the letter A to mark their victory.

The woman then smiled and looked up. She wore the same lip corner scar that curved along her cheeks. She had sorrowful eyes and greasy-looking hair that hung limp over her face. The nurse gently pushed me on ahead, but I turned back.

The woman continued to stare at me. She lifted her hand and loosely waved at me.

I got a chill down my spine.

I checked out at the front desk, but I had no idea I had signed anything. I stepped outside and gasped.

Who was she? Why did she have the same scars?

I hurried down the stairs over the street filled with parked taxis. I approached one and leaned in close to it, my words shaking.

I need to go home.

The taxi dropped me outside Grandma’s house five minutes ago. She had already arrived at Blackthorn, so I spent the night alone.

I stood in front of it, staring, wondering where it had gone, how time had rushed by, how it now stood motionless, yet I remained outside, frozen.

I stepped forward again, my hand on the door handle. I no longer needed to knock. I was alone this time.

Something pulled me back, though. I wanted to go back to the beginning of it all, to Blackthorn, not knowing what would happen, not knowing the way that my life would follow.

But I suppose things happen for a reason and some of life’s lessons are supposed to be learned the hard way.

I breathed deeply and opened the door. I placed the key on the hall table and lifted my head, and as I did, my eyes locked with thousands of red roses. They covered the hallway and the stairs and continued up to the second floor. They were in glass vases and lined the way straight to the bedroom.

“Lucius,” I panted, dropping my bag on the ground and rushing up the stairs. Every step weighed me down; the stairs seemed to stretch into eternity. I wished so badly that he wouldn’t leave.

I flung open the bedroom door and looked frantically around the room.

But he wasn’t here.

On my messy bed, against the white cotton sheets, roses were arranged to spell out:

I opened the closet, searched for him, and then checked the bathroom.

He wasn’t here.

Then my phone rang.

I answered quickly, and his voice broke through. “Oh, hi,” he said, chuckling.

“Where are you?” I shouted, excitement bubbling up inside me.

“Through the window,” he said, and the moment he did, I rushed over, looking outside. There he was, standing under the maple tree. He wore his black hoodie and black jeans, a gas mask dangling from his hands.

“Hi.” He waved at me.

“Hi.” I smiled, biting my lip as I leaned against the window frame.

“Oh, hi there. Who are you?” he teased, studying me with a raised brow. “Long ginger hair, green eyes that spark when they catch the light, a sprinkle of freckles dancing across your cheeks. Tight jeans hugging your curves just right, and a simple white top that does little to hide. You’ve got no idea what you’re doing to me, do you?”

He walked closer. “So, what brings you here tonight? Just a quiet moment with a book, or maybe you’re hoping to meet someone new?”

I blushed, glancing back, and tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

“Oh, you’re shy. I can see it in the way you look away, the way you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.” His lips curled into a smirk. “That’s alright. You don’t have to know me. Not yet.”

He grabbed onto the wooden trellis entwined with roses and started to climb.

“But I’m going to know everything about you,” he murmured as he ascended. “Every secret, every little habit, every thought that crosses that pretty mind of yours.”

He climbed higher, reaching the rooftop, and coming closer to me. “And when the time comes, you’ll be mine. Mine alone.”

He smiled, drawing closer. The moment he reached the window, I stepped back, letting him inside.

“I already am,” I whispered, biting my lip. “And the time is now.” I chuckled, jumping into his arms.

“I fucking missed you, Little Star,” he breathed, brushing a strand of hair from my face. He pulled me close, his lips crashing against mine, kissing me deeply, his tongue exploring, searching for something only I could give him.

I let him get lost in me.

He was here.

He was here now.