Chapter 25 CHAPTER 25
Chapter 25 CHAPTER 25
Chapter Twenty Five
Henna's POV
I stir on my bed, the light from the window feeling like needles against my retinas. I blink, trying to focus, and see Caroline peeping anxiously into my face. One look at the familiar beautiful wallpaper and the exquisite room and the landscape that tells me exactly where I am. The East Wing. My room.
A sharp, rhythmic thudding starts behind my eyes immediately. I groan, clutching my head with both hands to keep it from splitting wide open.
"You're finally awake," Caroline says, her voice sounding unnaturally loud in the quiet room. She stands up from the edge of my bed abruptly. I try to sit up, but the world tilts dangerously, my pulse racing in my ears.
"How did I get here? The last thing I clearly remember is being at the diner outside school yesterday," I mutter. My throat feels like I swallowed sandpaper. Caroline doesn’t answer; she’s already a blur of motion, throwing her books into her bag and checking her reflection.
"You need to get dressed fast so we can leave this room," she says, her tone clipped and hurried.
I try to move, but my limbs feel like lead. As I struggle to swing my legs over the side of the mattress, a fragmented memory flashes through my mind. It’s dark. My hands are clutching something solid... my lips are pressing against a hard, warm chest. I feel hands everywhere...on my waist, gripping my thighs...and then the echoing sound of my own voice letting out a sharp, desperate wail.
I freeze, my breath hitching. What was that? The memory feels oily and distorted, sliding away the moment I try to grab hold of it.
"Didn't you hear me?" Caroline asks, snapping me out of the trance. "Get up and dress so we can leave. Yellow and her squad are going to be here any minute."
I don't even have time to process who "Yellow" is before my phone starts vibrating violently on the nightstand. I reach for it, the noise making my headache flare. It’s Melody. My mother.
"Hey babe," her voice filters through the speaker. I press the phone to my ear, still holding my forehead with my free hand. Caroline is already furiously brushing her hair, her eyes darting to the door every few seconds.
"Mom," I answer. My voice is so thick and drowsy that she panics instantly.
"What happened to you? Why are you talking like that, Henna?"
"I just woke up, Mom. How am I supposed to sound?" I ask, trying to inject some normalcy into my tone. I hear a long exhale of relief on the other end. "How is Gary?"
"He’s in the kitchen making breakfast for us," she says. In the background, I hear my dad’s muffled voice asking who she’s talking to.
"Tell her I said hi," he calls out.
"Dad..." I mumble, a pang of homesickness hitting me right in the gut.
"Do you miss us yet?" Mom asks. "Have you finally changed your mind about schooling there? Want us to come get you? And what about that boy who drove you to the border that day?"
I frown, the memory of Andre’s cold fingers around my throat yesterday surfacing. He’d nearly choked the life out of me all because of his obsession with his girlfriend's birthday. "Mom, I don't want to come back. I’m okay."
"Have you made any new friends?" she asks hopefully.
I think about the bruised ego and the literal bruises I walked away with on my first day. I look at Caroline, who is now nervously wiping her glasses and tying back her hair. "Yes," I say. "She’s nice to me. She’s my new roommate."
Caroline glances at me for a split second, her expression unreadable.
I recall Ulrich’s warning from yesterday, his voice dripping with disdain. “You're in the lowest rank of the school. Stop causing trouble for yourself if you want to stay here.” Bitterness begins to seep into my chest, but I force a smile for my mother’s sake. "What about Chloe? Did she come around?"
Mom sighs. "She came by yesterday evening with that new hot guy she told me she started seeing."
"What!" My legs hit the floor as I bolt upright, completely forgetting about my splitting headache. "Chloe is seeing someone? She didn't say a word when we spoke yesterday!"
"She said she texted you..."
I pull the phone away for a second to check my notifications. "Damn it," I curse under my breath. "She did." The timestamp was late last night. I must have been at the diner when it came in.
"Are you sure you're okay? You didn't even check Chloe’s text. Don't let her find out; she’ll be furious."
"Of course I'm fine," I say, but the lie dies in my throat.
A sudden, thunderous BANG echoes through the room. The door rattles on its hinges. Caroline freezes where she stands, clutching her bag so tightly her knuckles are turning gray.
"Mom, I have to go. I'll talk to you later," I say, hanging up before she can argue. I stare at the door as it vibrations again. "What’s happening? Why is someone slamming the door?"
Caroline’s eyes are wide with terror. "I told you to dress up! I told you we had to leave!"
"OPEN THE DOOR OR WE WILL BREAK IT DOWN!" a female voice screeches from the hallway.
"Who are they?" I ask, my voice tight. Caroline remains frozen, her entire body trembling. I force myself to stand up, my vision swimming as I take a step toward her. Each pulse of my headache feels like a physical blow to the back of my skull.
The bang comes a third time, so violent the hinges groan in protest. My confusion finally gives way to a surge of irritation. "Who the hell is banging at our door this early in the morning?" I snap, reaching for the handle.
Caroline lets out a small, terrified squeal. "Did you suddenly forget what happened yesterday? Everything that happened?"
"Yesterday?" I repeat, my mind a foggy mess of blurred faces and bitter drinks.
"This is why I told you to dress up so we can LEAVE!" she hisses, her voice cracking with desperation. "Must you be my ill luck every time? You haven't even lived in this room for a week and I'm already drowning in your problems!"
"What are you—"
I don’t get to finish. With a sound like a gunshot, the heavy door bursts into a thousand jagged pieces. Splinters spray across the floor, and I instinctively throw my arms up to protect my face.
When the dust settles, a crowd of girls is standing in our doorway. They aren't just students; they look like a small army, led by a girl with a sharp, predatory smile.
"I told you to open the door." I hear and trace the face my brows furrowing.