Bloody Princess by Helen Scott

29

Lyric

Sampson had dropped me off right outside South Hall, or as close as he could get, and when I’d gotten out of the car, I was struck by the feeling of being a liar. I'd been lucky in the fact that Evie wasn't in our room when I got back and didn't even make an appearance that night, probably hanging out with Cliff. I'd never known that two people could have so much sex and not get sick of it.

Sex isn't something I've ever enjoyed, and it's never been pleasant, so wanting to have it all the time is somewhat of a foreign concept to me. I push the thought aside. The last thing I want to waste my time thinking about right now is sex, especially after the last few days.

The night is long and lonely, though, especially in my current state of mind. I can't help feeling like I shouldn't be here. The night of Lyssa's accident, I had been listening to one of my father's meetings with the second-in-command of the Ricci family. They were our neighbors, in a sense, and it was important for me to understand our relationship with them. None of us had expected the police to interrupt.

Fortunately, it had been a couple members of the force who were already on my father's payroll. I listened in stunned silence as they told my father that Lyssa was in an accident and pronounced dead at the scene. After my father ordered everyone out, he called the coroner's office and demanded an autopsy on his favorite child.

It came back a few days later saying Lyssa had been high as balls on all kinds of things. Cocaine. Fentanyl. Heroine. Oxycodone. Among other things. The combination didn't make sense. It wasn't something someone would take themselves, so we all knew someone had to have drugged her, and then, after Mel and I found her diary, we were even more certain. She never would have taken anything knowing she was pregnant and was definitely planning on keeping it.

The whole thing was ruled an accident, though, and my father, after grieving publicly, swept it all under the rug. He told everyone, and the official police report confirmed it, that it was just a tragic accident. Mel and I know the truth though.

My current problem is that she isn't here with me. I'm not used to putting on the mask that I wear to school so quickly after letting it all fall away so I can do the work my father requires of me. It's late enough that I know Evie won't be home tonight, so I do something I almost never do.

I look at myself in the mirror.

It seems strange to say it like that, but when I put makeup on, when I do my hair, all of that, it's like I'm dressing someone else, prepping them for the outside world. Then, when I do go out, I feel prepared, like I've got my war paint on.

Tonight, though, I strip down, I take every inch of clothing off and stand looking at myself in the mirror on the back of our door. My body is bruised and sore from my activities while at home. I'm not surprised to find a few scrapes either. Nail marks from where I was held too tightly. Teeth marks.

It all makes my stomach turn. I always do what my father and Sampson ask of me because I know I have no other choice, or at least that's what I’ve always thought. Being here at Welhurst, though? It feels like I do have another option. Except, if I take it, I throw everything about my life away.

Melody has already done that. Her faked suicide freed her from the family obligations and pissed my father off. We knew he would be upset when she came up with the crazy idea, but it had been in a way I hadn't expected. It was one of the few conversations he locked me out of.

The only thing I'd been able to figure out was that he'd had a plan for Melody's future, and now, with her theoretically dead, it screwed everything up. I just wish I'd been able to figure out what it screwed up. My father shut me out though. Ever since Melody's death he's been even more distant than he used to be, which is saying something because I hadn’t thought he could get any more distant.

All these thoughts roam around my head as I try to get myself back in the right headspace to play the character I need to. In my mind, I paint over the bruises and scars, I hide the dark circles under my eyes, and the monster that lives within me, until I'm nothing more than the girl next door. Well, the luxury version of the girl next door. When I go to sleep that night, I force my mind to think of happier things and not dwell on the darkness.

In the morning, I leave before Evie gets back and, after classes, I head straight to the gym. My workout is hard and long. It's not just a battle of strength but endurance. It's enough to make my muscles feel like jelly when I'm done. I'd noticed a few of the other people giving me a wide berth while I was working out and when I come back into the locker rooms and see myself in the mirror, it's easy to figure out why.

I've let my mask slip. The mask that I thought was firmly in place this morning is missing.

It's the one that says I'm just another perky undergrad with her entire future to look forward to and nothing more concerning in her life than which party she's going to go to this coming weekend. Thankfully the locker rooms have decent showers that we're able to use so I can get cleaned up and get my mask back in place before heading out.

It's no wonder people have been staying away from me all day, if I’d been giving them the dead eye stare I'd seen in the mirror. Come to think of it, I hadn't even seen Atlas in class, which is strange.

I'll probably see him at the APT house when I get there though, since I'm supposed to be meeting Keats for some work on our project. I'm honestly not even sure I can wrap my mind around it in my current state, but I have to try, otherwise I might arouse suspicion. The last thing I want is for the guys to suspect that I'm up to something, though I do wish I knew what Melody's plan was.

When I get to the APT house after stopping by the cafe nearby to grab a snack, I head inside. I've stopped waiting for someone to let me in. It seems like a waste of time, and it also attracts more attention than I'm comfortable with. Slipping inside the heavy oak door is more challenging than usual, since I worked my arms to paste at the gym. I manage it, though, and slowly climb the stairs to the third floor, my legs burning as I go.

It might be because I'm moving so slowly that I'm more quiet than normal, but when I get to the top of the stairs, I can hear them talking.

"What do they think they're going to expose?" Keats demands.

I freeze. Expose certainly sounds like something Melody would be trying to do. Anyone could catch me right now and accuse me of eavesdropping, but it's a risk I'm willing to take, especially when I hear them mention a strange email that they all got that none of the spam filters caught and which actually looked legit.

Spoiler alert. It is, if it came from Mel.

"Clearly, the person knows more about us than we know about them. So, all we need to do is figure out who it is, right?" Atlas' voice is calmer than Keats', which isn't too surprising. The only one calmer than Atlas is Thayer, and even then, I'm not so sure he's calm, so much as just quiet.

"Why did we all get it, though, when it looked like it was only supposed to be sent to Atlas?" Thayer asks.

My heart thuds hard in my chest. Melody found out something about Atlas, or his family, at the very least. He wasn't the one I'd expected to go first, or at all, really. That All-American vibe must have clouded my judgement or something. I still didn't believe he was the one who hurt Lyssa though. Maybe what Melody found had more to do with Carter, Atlas' dad, than Atlas himself. Was it wrong of me to hope that?

"How the hell should I know?" Jude answers. His voice is like a whip cracking against my mind, anger lashing out at everyone around him. I'm not sure what he has to be angry about, since his family recently surpassed mine in wealth and the amount of control they have over the city. Something my father is not pleased about.

"So, they know a secret about your family," Thayer says, redirecting the conversation back to the email and not Jude's anger. "Any idea what it could be?"

"I've got a couple. I'll talk to my dad and see what he thinks," Atlas replies, sounding cagey.

My hands itch for Thelma and Louise. I could run in, throw a few punches, and get him talking. That's not who I'm supposed to be right now, though, so I push the instinct down. No, I need to wait and hear what else they have to say, then when I do finally disrupt their little meeting, I'll be the peppy college girl they expect.

"What do you mean a couple? What's going on At?"

"Nothing!" Atlas says way too quickly. "I mean, nothing is going on. It's just my dad being my dad. You know how he is."

"A gambler, cheat, liar, and all around douche canoe?" Keats asks. His voice has a teasing note to it, but it's also obvious that he's worried about his friend.

"Yeah, pretty much," Atlas replies, sounding exhausted.

"Anything we can do to help?" Thayer asks.

Atlas' response isn't audible, and I'm starting to get bored, so I take a loud step and cough as I start walking down the hall toward Keats' room. I'm about half way when Atlas' door swings open.

My hand is raised to knock on Keats' door and, at the sound of Atlas' door opening, I look over my shoulder. Jude is standing there like he's about to rain hellfire down on whoever is disturbing them. When he sees me it's like that intensity doubles.

"What the fuck are you doing sneaking around up here?" Jude demands.

At the tone of his voice the others are suddenly right there, trying to get around him, but he's blocking the doorway and they don't seem like they want to move him.

"I'm hardly sneaking if I'm about to knock on someone's door," I reply haughtily.

"She's here to do some homework with me," Keats says from somewhere behind Jude.

"Well, she looks like shit. Send her home so we can keep trying to figure this shit out," Jude orders as he looks over his shoulder at Keats.

"What are you trying to figure out?" I ask, letting the comment about my appearance slide.

"None of your damn business. You're a fuckin' nosy bitch, aren't you?" Jude snaps as he takes a menacing step toward me.

One day soon, I'm hoping I'll get the opportunity to put the hurt on Jude. As soon as I have any concrete evidence I'll consider that a green flag, but the peace in Ascendance Bay is fragile, and the last thing I want to do is start a war between the families that gets innocent people killed. Innocent may be the wrong word, but they would only be following orders. It's because of this peace, because I can't attack any of the heirs to the families of Ascendance Bay without provocation, that I just smile sweetly up at Jude.

Now that Jude's moved, it allows the others out of the room too, and Keats is suddenly right there, stepping between me and Jude. He physically turns me back toward his room and gently pushes me forward. I'm torn between yelling at him to get the fuck off me and leaning into his touch. I've never felt anything like it. The heat, the roughness of his hands, the thickness of his fingers—it's all so much better than the men's hands I'm used to.

I'm going to say it's because of that indecision that I allow him to push me into the room and shut the door behind us, effectively blocking Jude out.

"Next time, text me when you get here or something," Keats says grumpily as he flops down on his bed.

"And how am I supposed to do that, exactly?" I ask, popping a hand on my hip and accidentally hitting a bruise I'd forgotten about.

"You don't have our phone numbers?"

I shake my head, "Why would I?"

"Because we gave them to you after Lyssa's funeral."

"I lost my phone and everything on it a few weeks afterward," I reply with a shrug.

Keats sits up and moves to the edge of his bed holding his hand out toward me. "Let me put it in again."

I snort. "That's what she said."

He raises one eyebrow at me as I hand over my phone. There's nothing he can do without me seeing so I'm not worried about him downloading any tracking apps or anything like that. "Wouldn't it be that's what he said?"

I cock my head to the side. "Couldn't it work both ways? I mean isn't that what strap-ons are for?"

Keats' barks out a laugh. "I suppose so."

Once he's done entering his phone number, he hands my phone back, looking up at me as he does so.

"Jude was right, you look like crap, Little L. Everything okay?"

I plaster a fake smile on my face and nod. "What would be wrong?"

He stares at me for a moment, and I see in his eyes that he knows I'm lying.