Page 52 of Wicked Vile King
I follow her lead, dressing quickly in our uniforms, and sliding on my extra-thick pair of tights. It's cold today, I can feel the upcoming winter seeping through the stone walls. Fall is nearly here, but winter is already coming.
"Where are we going?" I ask her after we endure roll call, take our meds, and steal biscuits from the dining hall.
She doesn't answer. She just smiles at me as we walk down the cold hallway to the set of massive double doors at the back of the building. A moment later, we're outside in the courtyard, the place Trixie knows I like because it feels like I can finally breathe between the tall weeping willows and cobblestone walkways. She leads me to a metal bench beneath one of the trees and sits down first. I join her before we each dig into our biscuits.
"Better?" she asks me.
"Yeah," I say. "Thanks, Trixie."
"Anytime, roomie."
Trixie sips something that barely passes for coffee in this place.
"I keep telling you," she says to me, "it's not all that bad here. We get limited freedom and excursions where we don't have to wear these dumbass uniforms, and for the most part, they keep the real crazies locked away from us."
At the mention, I look over at a tower on the northeast corner of campus. I can't see it at this angle, not really. It's just a piece of a wall and the top of a turret that appears to disappear into the sky. It's a crazy thought, but somehow I just know he's in there and he's looking back at me too.
That's insane, I tell myself. I'm letting this place get to me.
Trixie looks at me like she can guess my thoughts and says, "I used to have panic attacks. Had them every month when I first got here. You'll be all right, Willow."
"Thank you," I say as she pulls her phone from her pocket and looks at the time.
"Shit!" she exclaims before standing up abruptly and tossing what's left of her breakfast in the nearest trash can. "We got group therapy. Are you up for it?"
"Do I have a choice?"
Trixie laughs. "No, not really. Come on! We can't be late. Dr. Cross keeps all of us even longer if anyone is late, and you do not want to piss off the students around there. They are all nuts."
It makes me laugh as I toss my trash and jog with her back inside. She leads the way to a room with a tall wooden door that's already propped open, and we walk inside. I count eight students already in here, seated in foldable chairs organized in a large circle. That makes an even ten with Trixie and me. There are some kids I recognize and some I don't, but my heart goes cold when I spot Saint's friend, Gabe, the one with brown hair, black eyes, and a nasty sense of humor. He spots us and sneers as we take our seats in two empty chairs around the circle. Dr. Cross smiles at me as I sit and says the thing I think most students hate to hear.
"A new student is joining us today. Willow, why don't you say hi to the group?"
"Hey," I say. "I'm Willow."
And I want to crawl into the nearest hole and hide.
"Hey, Willow," the peanut gallery repeats back to me.
"How is everyone doing today?" Dr. Cross asks.
No one responds, and to my dread, he looks directly at me and adds, "Willow, how about you?"
"Um, I, uh . . . um . . ."
OhGod, ohGod, ohGod, ohGod, oh . . .
"Willow had a nightmare this morning," Trixie offers, putting me out of my misery.
"Yup, yeah," I agree.
"About what?" Dr. Cross asks.
My gaze darts to Gabe, and I instantly decide I'm not ready to share all of my deepest, darkest secrets with the group, especially when he is glaring at me with his so-brown-their-black eyes.
"Just . . . nothing. It's okay, just something I'm afraid of."
Gabe scoffs and shakes his head.
