Page 6 of Hateful
I’d forgotten how invisible you are as a boy.
Almost as invisible as I was at home all those years as a girl. That thought makes me smile, makes me remember why I snuck into Bleakwood in the first place. And more importantly, it reminds me why I’m going back.
I was nevernotgoing back.
As much as happened last semester, it wasn’t enough to scare me off. Not when I’ve already invested so much into this. Blood. Sweat. Tears. Ribs. Bruises.
I won’t let that be in vain.
I have an overnight layover in Washington, DC, but I’m in Zurich soon enough. From there, I grab a train instead of a bus this time and take it all the way up to the mountainside village near Bleakwood. As soon as I step off the train, the beauty of this place steals my breath away.
That and the sub-zero temperature.
I find myself exceedingly grateful for Caleb’s hand-me-down puffy coat as I zip it up to my neck, the same neck craning upwards as I take in a good look at the mountains surrounding me on all sides.
The snow-covered cliff faces rise around me in every direction, their valleys converging here in the little village—both sheltering it and cutting it off from the outside world.
Just like Bleakwood, they act as both a protection and a prison.
I shiver, though not entirely from the cold, and prepare myself for a cold walk up to the school.
I know the way now. I took trips to the village fairly often last semester. None of my trips yield particularly good memories, now that I think of it. They always end with Jasper, Heath, or Beck—or sometimes all three—showing up and ruining everything.
I’m not even halfway through the village when I feel so unbearably cold that I wonder if I’m going to make it to the school building at all. I promised myself last time that I wouldn’t try to walk the whole trek up, but I don’t really see any other option. I rub my arms for warmth and look around, but it’s still early enough that most of the shops here don’t look open. Not any that I could pop into to warm up for a moment, anyway.
Of course, it would be just like me to freeze to death before I even get to Bleakwood.
I start to panic. I’m going to die a pathetic death out here. I’m going to freeze in the snow on my way to school.
And then an Aston Martin pulls smoothly up beside me.
It’s like a moment of overwhelming déjà vu.
I stop and stare as the backseat’s window rolls down. Jasper’s face appears there, staring flatly out at me.
“Get in, stupid,” he says with a sigh. He opens the door and scoots to the other side of the backseat.
I blink, remembering Caleb’s advice.
The easiest way to get by is to try to avoid them. Don’t be alone with them.
It’s a lot easier said than done, especially when I can feel the wave of heat coming from the car. Jasper’s even wearing short sleeves. He stares at me expectantly, and I can feel my survival instincts battling it out inside me.
Stay safe from Jasper and freeze to death? Or stay warm and risk being alone with him.
I should hate the sight of him. I should be afraid of him.
I should be … something.
But that something, it seems, is cold.
The warmth wins out. I tug my suitcase with me and slip into the backseat of Jasper’s car, shutting the door behind me.
I knew I wouldn’t be able to stay away. I always knew.
Jasper nods at the driver, who takes off as soon as I’m buckled in. I lean my head against the headrest and let my limbs thaw out.
We’re alone in the car this time. I expected the others to be here. They usually travel together.
