Bloody Princess by Helen Scott

26

Lyric

The day after line-up—after I’d had to help almost all the girls finish their forties, after Paige had slapped me across the face, after I’d dredged up one of my most painful memories—I get a text from Melody as I'm walking home from class. A text that sends a chill of anticipation down my spine.

Initiating Phase Two.

It's our signal that she's found something juicy on one of the guys or their families. Something that we can use to leverage answers from them. Something that they won't want the general public to know, especially not their classmates. My curiosity is killing me, but I know Mel well enough to know she'll never drop a secret that big over a text message.

Meet? I ask.

A thumbs down emoji comes through a moment later before all of the messages disappear. I'll take that as a no, then. This is going to eat at me until I find out. She knows what she's doing, though. And I trust her without reservation. She wouldn't initiate Phase Two without a good reason since it'll show the guys that someone's trying to take them down.

When we’d come up with this plan, it had been the two of us against the world, but now, we are both on our own, playing to our own strengths. It's more isolating than I expected. With Mel being away at boarding school in Switzerland for most of our childhood, we've only been able to talk via letters and the occasional phone call. She came home for a week at Christmas and a month during summer, and we always spent as much time together as we could while we were together. Unless Sampson was dragging us apart, we were inseparable.

When she’d come back the summer that Lyssa died, she’d been angrier than usual. I'd asked her about it, but she’d just bitched about school—how strict it was, how she couldn't leave campus when she wanted to, how their teachers seemed to be coming up with new, depraved ways to torment them since they were a captive audience. I could understand all of that, so I’d left it alone, especially since she obviously didn't want to talk about it, but ever since then, we've seemed to struggle to connect as well as we once did. When we found Lyssa's diary, I’d been so close to letting my darkness overwhelm me, and she was the one who pulled me back from that edge.

I'm my father's weapon, his bribe, his display piece, his doll, but Mel's never really known that. I don't even know if Lyssa understood what was going on with me. The fact that Mel recognized my darkness, rescued me from it, and didn't condemn me for it or abandon me to it is something I'll forever be grateful for. I'm not sure what would have happened if I'd been left alone with my monster at that point, but I know it wouldn't have been good. I'd probably have gone down in a rain of gunfire as I attacked one of the guys I'm so busy trying to get close to now.

South Hall is right in front of me when the next text comes, and it makes me stop in my tracks. I don't expect what it says at all.

Have you found anything, or are you just trying to fuck all of them?

I stare at the words for a long time as I try to figure out what the hell she means. It takes enough of my concentration that I actually sit on one of the benches outside before I text her back.

Me: What are you talking about? I'm trying to get them to open up to me so they'll confess. That was the plan.

Mel: The plan was for you to actively try and find evidence while getting close to them. All you seem to be doing is making out and flirting with them. If you want to get laid, find another guy, and scratch that itch. But we need to hurry up. I can't live like this forever.

I want to remind her that she's the one who chose to fake her death, not to mention telling me to flirt with Thayer, but with the mood she seems to be in, that won't accomplish anything other than pissing her off even more. My anger is rising though, and I know I can't respond right now or we'll end up fighting, so I shove my phone into my pocket and head inside.

The room is empty when I get to it, which isn't a surprise since it seems like every moment she's not in class Evie spends with her legs wrapped around some part of Cliff. At least the girl's getting some, though. More than I can say for myself.

After everything I've done and experienced in my life, I thought I'd be neck-deep in dick that I actually wanted and exploring my sexuality and all that bullshit, but as it turns out, I can barely even get through kissing someone. It wasn't that I didn't want to go further with Atlas. I did, but he'd rejected me, and now I felt off my game. Though, whatever energy had been between Atlas and me that night had felt like more than just scratching an itch.

I can’t afford to feel anything for any of them, though.

Not when we don’t know which one of them is responsible for Lyssa's death.

My backpack hits the floor with a thud, and I move to flop down on my bed so I can just relax in peace for a second, when I see a note folded up and tucked under the edge of my pillow. I pull it out and carefully unfold it. There's nothing inside except a message scrawled in handwriting I don't recognize. It's not that I just don't recognize it, though. It's the kind of handwriting you see when someone is using their non-dominant hand or has an injury that impacts how they hold the pen, which might mean that this person is smart enough to try and cover their tracks, and that's worrying.

I know what you're doing. If you don't stop, I'll expose you for the fake you are.

It’s not signed, obviously. Part of me thinks maybe Mel is letting the stress of the situation get to her and has had a breakdown or something. Or that maybe she wanted out and didn't want to tell me. Or maybe it's the guys, in another attempt to get me to quit pledging Pi Ep and drop out of Welhurst. Or maybe it's someone I haven't thought of. It's definitely possible that someone I've worked over in the past has found me and decided to fuck with me. That seems the least likely option, though.

I slide my phone from my pocket and text her.

Me: I got a note from someone.

Mel: One of your lovers? Or maybe your new sisters?

I swallow the response I want to scream at her, knowing it won't do any good.

Me: No, here's a photo.

After I snap a photo of the note and send it to her, I wait for her to respond, but I get nothing for a long time. It's only after I've unpacked my book bag and started going through the homework I need to do that I hear my phone ding once again.

Mel: Can you dust for prints?

Me: Yes.

I do as Mel asks and grab some cocoa powder from Evie's stash of mug cake supplies. I only need a tiny amount, so I don't feel bad taking it without asking. Plus, if I ask, I have to explain what I'm doing, and I really don't feel like coming up with another lie. For a moment, I debate whether or not to use the flour instead, but they are both pretty fine powders, and if they hadn't been available, I would have just used some of my eye shadow or blush. Fortunately, I didn't have to. No matter what, I'm going to have to be super careful as I do this, or I'll destroy any prints that might be there, if there even are any.

A few tense moments later, during which time I make a mess with the cocoa powder on my desk, I have a partial print. It's not much of one, but it's the only thing there after I've dusted the whole paper. I take the best photo I can and send it to Mel.

I'll see what I can do.

It's all she says back before the entire chat disappears. I can't help wanting to message her again, feeling torn between yelling at her and trying to repair the damaged connection between us. I don't really know what has changed.

Grief does strange things.

Lyssa left a hole in my life bigger than I could have ever predicted, between the fraying of the bond Melody and I had and the way Lyssa'd shielded me from my father's rage. I had taken her for granted, something I don’t want to do with Melody. I want us to be the sisters we had been before, when we were writing to one another. Yes, my letters were filled with lies and half truths, because that was all I could tell her since I knew Sampson was reading them before they were mailed—until I’d started mailing them myself, which had only made him more suspicious.

We'd come to blows over it more than once, something I'm sure Melody doesn't know. All of my fighting and all of my skills are hidden from the world, until Sampson and my father need their bloody princess to come forward and take care of business. I do whatever they ask of me because I have no choice. If I object, the punishment is enough to send a shiver of dread down my spine, even now.

The only time I'd ever thrown a fit was when I was advised that my virginity was going to be auctioned off at an event my father was having. I'd straight up refused and had fought tooth and nail to stop it from happening, but as with all things under his control, my father gets what my father wants. And I was most definitely under his control. A little less so now, but I'm not kidding myself either. If he or Sampson say jump, I have to ask how high, at least for now. Once I have access to my trust fund, if it still exists, then I'll be able to have more of a say. Until then, my inheritance is a carrot they can dangle over my head.

There's a knock at the door, and I shove the note into my desk drawer before hurrying to put all of Evie's cake supplies away. Everything slides back into place as the knock sounds again, and I go to the door, opening it while slightly out of breath.

As though my thoughts have summoned him, Sampson is standing there. "Hello, Lyric."

I bow my head and step to the side to let him into the room. My heart hammers in my chest at the thought of what he might want, but I have to wait and see, and I have no doubt that Sampson will have me squirming before he's ready to tell me the point of his visit. I just hope that, whatever it is, it's not my father pulling me out of school.