Page 44 of Wicked Vile King
My wishes of escaping this prison and returning to normal charred to ash and floated away in an instant.
The implication was clear. If I somehow managed to escape, I'd have nowhere to go—no money, no food, no clothes, no shelter, no family, and no friends. My father would command them to turn me away. I'd havenothing. My father, my flesh-and-blood, would let me die here before he let me leave.
I'd begged Dr. Cross to talk to him, to show him reason and change his mind, but deep down, I knew Papa's answer wouldn't change. I know that now, even if I didn't want to admit it then.
The doctor smiles, and it puts my nerves at ease.
"Is your stay still not to your liking?" he asks, his tone light.
"Okay," he placates when I don't answer, throwing up his hands in surrender. "I get it. I do."
He tips forward in his chair, sitting on the edge, until we're a foot apart, maybe less, and I spot the specks of gold hidden in his green irises. "You think just because you don't set things on fire or take your father's Lamborghini for a joyride during a manic episode that means you don't need help."
"No." I shake my head, wanting to deny it. "I just . . . this place . . . I'm not a bad kid."
Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, and I sniffle, loud, wet, and gross in his nice office.
"Willow," he tells me, placing a hand on my knee, "this place isn't just for bad kids. It's for troubled ones too, students just like you."
I sniffle again as a hundred retorts surface in my brain.
But I'm not troubled, they shout.And I'm definitely not like the others.
I'm a good girl who made a mistake.
I don't deserve this.
Let me go.
Let me go before I become his.
Why say the words, though, when they won't change the outcome? I blink away my tears and focus on a spot on the floor again.
"Hey," he placates, his voice soft, "don't cry. It's not that bad. Just attend our sessions, okay? Be open, be honest, and try to get better, and I guarantee I'll have you out of here by Christmas if that's what you still want. Deal?"
"Deal," I agree, returning his smile.
"Good." He sits back in his chair. "Now, I have another appointment I have to get to, but I'll see you again soon, okay?"
We say goodbye, and I leave his office. I should probably go back to my dorm room and do the homework I'm pretty sure my history teacher won't even grade, but I need to get away from my thoughts. I decide to head to the library on the second floor instead. I pass a few guards on my way there, but it's been relatively quiet since Saint went away, almost as though everyone's too afraid of getting shoved in the hole with him.
Saint.
Don't think about him, Willow.
Don'teverthink about him.
I'm almost to the library, passing a pair of loitering guards, when I turn the corner and arrive in front of two boys I've never seen before. They look to be about my age, and though they're not tall, they are huge. Muscles stack on top of more muscles on their stocky frames, and just the two of them alone eat up the hallway, until I'm slinking by them as they stop what they are doing and stare at me.
"Pretty," one remarks, cocking an eyebrow at his bald-shaven friend.
"Pussy," says the other, and a pit opens up in the center of my belly, gnawing at me from the inside out.
"Hey, pretty," one says.
"Hey, pussy," the other says.
"Where do you think you're going?" they echo at the same time.
