Cruel Love (10 page)

“Now, to the practical,” Headmaster Jansen began in a more formal tone. “e school has hired a grief counselor who will be setting up a permanent office here on campus. e doctor will be available to all of you during the school day, and a hotline will be set up for after hours. e hotline number will be posted around campus and on the school’s website. He is an awarded professional, highly regarded in his field, so please make use of his expertise whenever you feel the need to talk to someone outside your own circle. But also know that each of you will be
required
to speak to him at one point this week. Half hour sessions have been scheduled for all students. You will report to the administration building at your designated time. No exceptions.”

Ariana glanced across the aisle at Jasper. He rolled his eyes. For the first time all morning, voices could be heard among the student population, and none of them sounded happy.

“I’ve asked him to attend this morning’s services so that we can all welcome him to the Atherton-Pryce Hall community,” Headmaster Jansen continued. “Students, faculty, I’d like to introduce to you, Dr. Victor Meloni.”

Ariana’s free hand gripped the end of the pew as the entire world seemed to tilt beneath her. e edges of her vision went dark, and all she could see was the man rising up from the front pew to a smattering of awkward applause. Ariana recognized every detail with vivid horror—his thinning hair, his elbow-patched blazer, his broad shoulders, his square jaw. His cheap rubber-soled shoes squeaked as he strode toward the podium. When he turned toward the chapel, he wore an affected, overly concerned, and falsely friendly smile. The smarm seeped off of him, puddling like green goo at his feet. Ariana sank so low in her seat, her butt hung off the edge.

This was not possible. Why him? Why now? How could this be happening to her? “Ana! Ow. Loosen up,” Maria whispered.

Ariana looked down at her hand, clasped around Maria’s slim fingers. She thought she heard a slight crack. “Sorry,” she muttered, releasing her friend.

Maria shook her hand, and Ariana could see the distinct outlines of her own fingers, white against the pained red of Maria’s skin. “Thank you all for that warm welcome,” Dr. Meloni said loudly.

e rumbling tone of his voice sent violent shivers through Ariana’s core. Suddenly, she heard that very voice inside her mind, shouting at an unnatural decibel, as if he was holding a bullhorn to his lips in the center of her skull.

You are not capable of change. If you were ever to be released from this facility, I am categorically certain that you would kill again.

“Ana? Ana?”

She could see Maria’s lips moving, could feel the hard bench behind her back, but she was not there. She was back in Meloni’s office at the Brenda T., clinging to the arms of her uncomfortable chair, her pulse thrumming in her very ears.

So no, Miss Osgood, you are not getting out of here. Not today, not tomorrow, not five years from now. Or ten. Or twenty. Not as long as I’m the one signing your chart.

“Ana?” Maria said again.

Somewhere in the chapel, a heavy book hit the floor. Ariana flinched. She took in a breath and coughed, sitting up straight as Maria clung to her arm. “Are you okay?” Tahira’s voice chimed in, coming from behind.

“I have to get out of here,” Ariana muttered, catching her breath.

“What? You can’t just leave morning services,” Tahira protested, gazing up at her as Ariana rose from her pew. Ariana kept her back to the podium as she gathered up her coat and bag.

“I need some air. I have to … I have to go.”

“I’ll come with you,” Maria said, starting to get up.

“No,” Ariana blurted, startling her. She could already feel people starting to stare. Could feel Meloni’s eyes boring into the back of her neck as she stood in the aisle. “Sorry. I just … I’d like to be alone for a little while.”

“Okay,” Tahira said. “But text us if you need anything.” “You’re sure you’re okay?” Maria asked.

“I’ll be fine,” Ariana said confidently.

As soon as I put as much distance between myself and Meloni as possible
, she added silently. She cast a glance at a concerned Jasper, then speed-walked down the aisle.
I’ll be okay as soon as I’m by myself and have some time to think.

“Rest assured that I’m here for all of you, whenever you need me,” Dr. Meloni was saying, as Ariana reached the exit. “I’ve helped heal hundreds of troubled souls in the past, and I’m looking forward to helping all of you.”

Ariana shoved open the door, stepped out into the frigid, gray morning, and started to run.

IF
NOT
FOR
HER

Back in her room, Ariana frantically, illogically shoved her desk chair against her door, then sat down on her bed, clutching at the sheets. Her throat closed over and she choked out a sob. She glanced around her room frantically, as if there were answers among the neatly organized books, the labeled boxes of shoes in her open closet, the art and travel posters tacked to the walls at perfect right angles.

What am I going to do? What am I going to do?

Meloni was here. He had invaded her carefully constructed, perfect new life. He was here and she was going to have to see him. e headmaster had made that crystal clear. She was going to have to attend her mandatory grief-counseling appointment, and if she did that, she’d be headed right back to the Brenda T. before she could say the words “electric chair.” Ariana’s stomach clenched suddenly and she doubled over.

This can’t be happening. This can
not
be happening.

On her knees on the cold wood floor of her dorm room, the walls seemed to close slowly in on her. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t possible. How could he have found her?

She covered her face with her hands and wailed at the injustice of it all. ere was nothing in the world but her anger, her pain. Nothing in the world but this white-hot fear inside her chest. She had worked so hard, sacrificed so much, done unspeakable things in the name of self-preservation, and for what? So that cocky jackass could waltz on in here and take it all away from her?

Ariana lifted her tear-stained face. The first thing her eyes fell upon was the folded newspaper sticking out of the outer pocket on her messenger bag.

GEORGETOWN SOCCER STAR
, were the only words she saw. “No,” Ariana blurted.

She whipped the newspaper out of her bag and found Reed’s name buried inside the article.

“It’s
you
!” she spat through clenched teeth, crushing the newspaper in her palm. “It’s
your
fault.
You’re
the reason I’m here.
You’re
the reason all of this had to happen.” She pushed herself to her feet, focusing all her ire, all her grief, everything inside of her, on the ball of newsprint. “If it wasn’t for you, I would have graduated from Easton and I’d be at Princeton right now. If it wasn’t for you I never would have
met
Victor Meloni. omas would still be alive. Briana Leigh would still be alive.
You
killed them! You sent me to that fucking prison and you unleashed Kaitlynn Nottingham on the world. Brigit died because of you. Lexa died because of you. Every last ounce of their blood is on
your
pretty little stupid fucking head!”

Ariana whipped around and drove the fist holding the newspaper into the wall as hard as she possibly could.

Her hand exploded in pain. e skin on her knuckles cracked open and her fingers burned. But still, it wasn’t enough. Letting out a screech of rage, Ariana tore the posters from the wall above her bed and ripped them to shreds. She picked up her makeup mirror and hurled it across the room like a Frisbee, shattering it into a billion glittering shards. Nothing was safe from her path. She tore her designer clothes from their silk hangers, threw her computer to the floor, ripped the curtains free of their rods. She shredded and smashed and slammed and screamed until nothing in the room was left intact.

And then, chest heaving, she sank to the floor and curled into a ball on her side, pressing her forehead into her knees. Reed’s eyes, Meloni’s smirk, Reed’s grin, Meloni’s condescending sneer. e images flashed through her mind, rapid-fire, melding and melting and contorting into a frightening, ghoulish mask. Ariana grabbed at her hair, shook her head violently, willed her enemies out of her mind—out of existence.

Breathe, Ariana. Just breathe. In, one … two … three … Out, one … two … three … In, one … two … three … Out, one … two … three … In, one … two … three … Out, one … two … three … In, one … two … three … Out, one … two … three …

Soon, her pulse started to calm. Her breathing returned to normal. Her brain began to clear. Soon all that was left behind was a simple, rhythmic beat.

She must die … he must die … she must die … he must die …

Suddenly there was a polite, but firm knock on her door. Ariana sat up, heart in her throat, pressing her fingertips into the floor.

Meloni. It had to be. He’d seen her and now he had come here to take her back to jail. Ariana stood up quickly and whirled around, searching the room for a weapon, but there was too much destruction, too much chaos. She brought her hands to her temples and pressed.

This was it. This was it. This was the end. “Ana? It’s me. Palmer.”

Ariana froze. She could feel her heartbeat in her cheeks, radiating heat throughout the room. What the hell was Palmer doing here? She made a move for the door, feeling suddenly silly and overly dramatic when she saw the back of her chair shoved up under the door handle. She tugged it out and pushed it against the wall, then opened the door just a crack.

“Oh, hey,” Palmer said, as if surprised she was there.

“Hey,” Ariana responded. She opened the door a bit wider, wedging her body between the door and the wall, to block his view of the mess behind her.

“Listen, I’m sorry for the way I’ve been acting …,” Palmer said unexpectedly. ere was a slam somewhere in the hallway and he looked around. “I really need to talk to you. Can I come in?”

Instead of waiting for an answer, Palmer laid his hand flat against the door and slipped past her. Ariana didn’t even have a chance to say a word or hold up a hand to stop him. e second he was over the threshold, his jaw went slack. Ariana stood there with her arms around her waist and watched him. She watched him take in the torn posters, the shredded books, the broken glass. He nudged a pile of rumpled clothing and cracked frames and computer wires with his foot. As he turned, ever so slowly, in a baffled circle, Ariana quietly closed her door.

“What the hell did you do?” Palmer demanded finally.

“I just … I guess I kind of lost it,” Ariana said, her brow furrowed.

“Lost it? Are you serious? is goes way past ‘lost it,’ Ana.” He brought his hand to his forehead. “My God. You really are insane. I mean, this is not normal. is is not the kind of thing a normal person does.”

“Shut up,” Ariana snapped.

“Shut up? Are you serious?” He looked her up and down like she was yesterday’s rotting trash. “I can’t believe I came over here to apologize to you. You’re completely out of your mind! Honestly? I’m starting to wonder if you really did do something to cause Lexa’s death.”

Ariana arms uncurled and her fingers clenched into fists at her sides. Suddenly the four walls around her began to close in, crowding her out, making it impossible to breathe. All she could see was Palmer’s face. His awful, unforgiving, accusing face. And all she wanted to do was tear it off his over-inflated head.

“Why are you just standing there?” Palmer spat. “Say something, you certifiable freak.”

Ariana knew he was in pain. She knew that being in mourning could screw with a person and make him act like a jerk. But she had never imagined that calm, collected, mature Palmer Liriano could be so outright cruel. Suddenly she saw herself reeling back and hitting him. She saw herself picking up her desk chair with both hands and swinging as hard as she could. She saw herself screeching at the top of her lungs and rushing him so hard, so fast, and so unexpectedly that he lost his balance and went flying through the windowpane, shedding broken glass all over the grass below and falling to his bone-crushing, skull-cracking death.

But she couldn’t do any of that. Of course she couldn’t. ere had been too many deaths already, and all inside her circle of friends. If Palmer were to die right in her own room, the questions would certainly start.

Breathe, Ariana. Just breathe. In, one … two … three … Out, one … two … three …

“You know what, Palmer? I
do
have something to say,” she told him, turning toward the door again. Her palm was so sweaty it slipped once on the knob before she was able to grip it and get the door open. “Get out.”

Palmer scoffed, shaking his head in a condescending way. But he did walk by her, and paused in the doorway. He made a little teepee with his hands and placed it in front of his mouth for a moment, smiling mirthfully the whole time.

“ank God we broke up,” he said, looking her in the eye. “And here’s fair warning: I am going to make sure that every single person in Stone and Grave knows exactly what kind of psychopath they’ve elected as their president. Enjoy your power trip while it lasts, Ana. Your days are numbered.”

Then, with one last derisive glance, he turned on his heel and walked away. Ariana had never slammed a door so hard in her life.

PEACE
OF
MIND

Ariana clutched the steering wheel as she searched the crowded downtown streets for an open space. She realized too late that she had just passed one and slammed on her brakes. e guy behind her honked his horn and swerved, but Ariana ignored both him and the rude gesture he tossed her way. Gritting her teeth, she quickly and deftly swung her car into the parallel spot.

“Okay, you’re here. Just calm down. Palmer can’t really hurt you. Anything he tells anyone will be hearsay. Everything’s going to be fine.”

Ariana glanced in the mirror, taking a deep, soothing breath. Before leaving campus, she had meticulously straightened her room, making sure there was no shred of evidence of her freak-out left behind. en she had shoved the pieces of her current disguise into her leather Louis Vuitton satchel and hit the road. All morning she had been running errands and steering clear of Atherton-Pryce, all the better to avoid the honorable Dr. Victor Meloni. But now, she’d made it to her final stop of the day.