Bloody Princess by Helen Scott

6

Lyric

I want to shout and scream. I want to kidnap Jude, Atlas, Keats, and Thayer and make them confess to what they did.

But I can't.

I'm stuck between a rock and an avalanche. If I rock the boat between the families of Ascendance Bay too obviously, I'll be paying a high price for it later. One so high I might not survive it, and I haven’t lived through all the shit I’ve lived through just to lose my life because I pissed off the wrong old man.

"Are you okay?" Evie's voice comes from behind me. For a moment, I'd forgotten she was even there.

I turn on the tears. Most girls would be crying after something like that, right? The volcano of rage bubbling inside me, the craving I have for violence, for taking my pain out on those four...it isn't normal. Then again, I'm not normal.

Once I'm satisfied that I look upset and can feel the tears rolling down my cheeks, I turn to my roommate. "I'm okay," I reply in a hushed whisper as we walk down the street back toward our dorm. A sliver of guilt worms its way into me for lying to someone who has been nothing but nice to me, and yet, I wouldn't change it. I need her to think I'm weak, to not suspect any ulterior motive to my actions, and the best way I can think to do that is by crying now.

"Oh God, you're crying! I don't know how to comfort people. I've never had to do it before. Do you need a hug?" The words all seem to blur together in my head, and I shake it, both in response to her question and to try and clear the bloodlust from my mind. The last thing I want right now is for her to touch me and realize I'm practically vibrating with rage. Evie may think it's just tears, but I can't take that risk, plus, physical affection makes me uncomfortable.

It's not like I've had a lot of it in my life.

I force a laugh. "It's okay. It's an old wound—just gets irritated sometimes," I reply with a shrug.

"Can I ask what happened? I don't want to upset you." Evie's voice is like that of a songbird first starting to warble in the morning. It's beautiful, but a little nervous. I'm sure as she grows into herself, it will become gorgeous.

I had to grow into myself much earlier in life than she has. Unfortunately, just like ninety-nine percent of the people in my life, she'll get the official story, not the truth. It's better that way, though. Safer.

I don't need to hollow out my voice on purpose. Just relaying these facts, even if they are slightly twisted, is enough to do it for me. "My mom died when I was young, so it was just me and my sisters growing up since my dad worked a lot. When I was in high school, my eldest sister died in a car accident, and a year after that, my twin killed herself. It's been a rough few years. Are you okay if we go back to the dorm, or do you want to find another party?"

Evie blows out a gust of breath as she takes in my words. I watch her from the corner of my eye and see her start to say something a few times. I know that right now, she probably wants to say something comforting, but nothing seems appropriate. That's how most people react to my life. The fact that they only know half of the story and feel that way makes me wonder what they'd say if they knew everything.

Finally, she says, "Let's find another party."

It isn't the response I've been expecting, but I'm okay with that. We wander through the campus in search of a house party we might be able to sneak into, telling each other stories from high school. Unfortunately, none of my stories actually happened to me, but that's the ugly truth I'm not allowed to reveal. Sampson's orders.

Instead, I mix and match stories from TV shows I've seen and books I've read. I hadn't had to lie so much in high school—everyone had seemed to know and accept that I was a Sterling and, therefore, above them—but part of the agreement for allowing me to come to college was that I had to have a reasonable history I could tell people. That I had to seem normal. Not arouse any suspicions.

Everything is as generic as I can make it without sounding like a piece of cardboard, but the harsh reality is I didn't have friends in high school. As soon as I'd hit puberty, everything had changed, and the small degree of social freedom I'd had vanished as my time was swallowed up with Sampson's training and secretly sitting in on my father's meetings. My school was told I had special tutoring, and when a hefty donation was added to the explanation, they didn’t care so long as I didn’t bring their ranking down too much.

I push the thoughts away. I don't need to think about my father now. And I definitely don't want to think about Sampson. The last thing I want to do is admit that there's a timer counting down in my head for how long he's going to allow me this slack. I feel like a dog on a loose leash—at some point, I'll be reined in, so I want to have as much fun as I can in the meantime.

After only seeing one other party, which looked sketchy as fuck, Evie and I head back to our dorm, only to find our RA sitting in her open doorway. Since that's where the elevator opens up, she gets to see exactly who is coming and going and when. That isn't going to work for me.

"Where have you ladies been?" she asks as she pushes up from the circular bucket chair she's been sitting in.

"We went for a walk," I say casually. It’s true. We've been walking around campus longer than we were at the APT party.

"We didn't get a chance to learn the campus layout earlier," Evie adds, going along with my stretch of the truth easily.

"Did these walks lead you to any parties?" the RA inquires.

"We didn't see any. By the way, I don't think we've been properly introduced. I'm Lyric Sterling," I say as I extend my hand in an offer to shake hers. Manners maketh man and all that. Sampson would be horrified if I let the Sterling name down.

"Beth Komblavitz. Your RA." We shake, but it's weak, and her hand feels like a dead fish in mine. Decidedly not what I'm used to.

"Pleasure."

"Listen, I'm not trying to run your lives, but part of my job is to make sure you're safe. If you're going on night walks, then at least take a rape whistle with you. Or some pepper spray, though I'm technically not supposed to advocate for that because it can hurt your theoretical attacker. Just be careful. I don't want any drama on this floor, understood?" She’d started off the conversation sounding firm, then switched to conspiratorial, and now she’s back to firm. It’s a manipulation tactic I’m familiar with.

It doesn't do me any good to piss her off, though, so I just nod and give her a smile, which makes her relax slightly. Evie agrees verbally, and we all say goodnight before the two of us go back to our room.

As soon as we close the door, I say, "Are there stairs we can take instead?" I roll my eyes heavily as Evie glances at me. I know there are stairwells at each end of the building. After all, it would be a fire hazard if there weren't. I also know that the laundry is in the basement, and there are janitor's closets on each floor. There's also a storage area, which is essentially a roof access point. I know every inch of this building already. But I'm supposed to be the air-headed rich girl, so that's who I'll be.

"Yeah, at the end of each hallway, but they might be alarmed," Evie replies with a sigh before stripping down to her bra and undies and flopping into bed.

The action makes me laugh. After all, it's not often someone who is essentially a stranger is suddenly comfortable enough around me to hang out in their bra and panties. I stroll over to my bed and sit on the edge, scooting back until my spine is resting against the wall and my legs are crossed on top of my comforter.

I have a split second to be grateful that Sampson sent the bedding over. Of all the things I thought about and packed, bedding and towels—the most essential items—were not among them. It makes me wonder how much Sampson had observed me packing. Does he know that I have Alyssa's diary with me? Does he even know she had one? He'd never been overly concerned with my eldest sister. She was the Sterling princess and was treated as such. I was the lucky one who got his special attention.

Evie rolls toward me and says, "We'll definitely have to take the stairs next time. Ugh. Five floors of stairs! That's going to suck donkey balls."

I snort with laughter at her wording, unable to remember the last time I've actually genuinely laughed or smiled. It was years ago, that much I’m sure of. "It'll be a great workout if we do it enough," I reply once I've recovered.

"Oh God, you're not a fitness freak, are you?" Her brows are drawn together in genuine concern.

I pretend offense and touch my hand to my chest with my jaw dropped open before I say, "Fitness freak? Well, since you put it so nicely...I wouldn't say I'm a freak about it, but I like to stay in shape." I also have to, or I’ll face Sampson's wrath. I'd rather do it on my own terms than be subjected to his training again.

"Just don't expect me to go on five a.m. runs with you or anything. You're on your own with that shit. Now, if we go to the gym where I can get some entertainment while I work out, that's different." From the way she says “entertainment”, I know she's not talking about the TV shows and movies inevitably playing on gym TVs.

"I'm sure we can find you something entertaining to do while I torture myself," I reply before I push up off my bed and grab my pajamas.

"I'll want evidence before I join you, just so you know," Evie says haughtily.

I laugh at that. "I'm not taking photos of guys working out for you. That's weird."

Tonight hadn't gone the way I'd hoped, but at least it let me know who to work on first. Before my mind can wander off to revenge-land, I realize that Evie hasn't replied.

When I turn back around after changing, I see her looking at her phone with wide eyes and one hand over her mouth. "What's wrong?"

"We're on the BABSightings Insta account," she says, a little breathlessly.

I cross to her and plop down on the bed so I can see what she's talking about. Sure enough, there's a photo of Evie and me standing with the guys. My roommate swipes, and I see another photo, then another, all of them chronicling our activities at the party.

Well, fuck.

She quickly taps over to TikTok, and we see a video there of when Keats picked me up and spun me around. I'm squealing and giggling like a little girl before I seem to slowly slide down his body. They had to have put that in slow-mo right? It hadn’t taken that long for me to dismount, had it?

The word “whore” flashes across the screen in all caps as the camera zooms in on my ass and the way it's peeking out from the bottom of my shorts. It does the same thing with my cleavage a moment later, only this time, they got creative and put the word “slut” over me. Clearly, whoever is behind the account is a master of the English language. Asshole.

There are a couple more videos, none of which have the live audio and are set to music instead. In one of them, Jude throws a punch at Thayer, and Keats catches it. In another, Jude is chugging from a bottle of vodka. Tensions are clearly high amongst the guys, but I have no idea why. I might be able to tell if I could hear the original audio, though I'm not sure their mystery fan was close enough to actually catch it.

If their stalker was at the party and I didn't notice, then they were skilled, and I would need to be even more careful. I need to get Mel on it. Maybe she can even get the original audio. My sister is a genius when it comes to some stuff, but she can’t mask her emotions like I can. That’s part of why it’s me going to college and trying to find out why the Boys of Ascendance Bay killed their best friend, who was also my sister. Whatever the reason, I’m not going to let them get away with it.