Eternity-1

There is a restlessness in her bones as she waits. A newly familiar ache in her limbs as she shifts in the uncomfortable chair. The room is quiet, the only sounds coming from the clock on the wall and the scratching of a pen. Enid stares out the window at the sprawling field outside. An old oak tree stands proudly on the perimeter. Branches stretched high toward the bright sky. There is a hinting of leaves, a sign of the return of life. She wonders if she is ready for this. For the rest of her life. "Dean Thomas will see you now." The secretary's voice startles her. Standing slowly, she winces as her weight falls on her ankle. It is the last of her physical injuries to remain. She does her best not to limp as she pushes open the cracked door. This office is one place she would have happily never returned to. Dean Thomas is sat at his desk, a sugary smile stretched across his plump cheeks. "Why, Miss McCarthy, what a pleasure!" His southern accent booms toward her. The smile she gives him is small, fabricated. Gesturing her toward the chairs in front of his desk, he begins a stream of pleasantries. She knows just as well as he does how fake they are. Settling in the seat before him, she becomes keenly aware of the empty space around her. The last time she had been in this office, they had been with her. Surrounding her on each side. This time she is alone. "How was your break?" It is a meaningless question, but she has to hold back something between a laugh and a scream as he asks it. What if she told him the truth? Started with running away, trying to change her identity. Getting kidnapped, held hostage. Assaulted. How it ended with killing someone. The familiar tug of guilt tightens in her ribs and she clears the thoughts away. "Relatively uneventful." Enid lies through her teeth. The dean launches into a masquerade of flattery on her performance at the Winter Gala. "I'm here to unenroll." She finally cuts through as he starts a third round of compliments on her 'virtuosity'. Dean Thomas freezes, his bushy eyebrows furrowing. There is a long, tense pause as his beady eyes study her. "Now, I don't think that's such a good idea. The Winter Gala was the most successful fundraising event we've had since I've been dean here and most of our highest donors specifically mentioned you as they pulled out their checkbooks." He says bluntly, all friendliness falling away. He crosses his arms, his too-small suit jacket stretching dangerously at the seams. Enid smiles tightly. She had expected him to deny her, but it still made things more difficult. "I'd still like to disenroll please. I have plans to return home to Wales." A sweet smile is plastered across her face. Dean Thomas hums, stroking a finger along his mustache. Spinning slightly in his leather chair, he tugs open a drawer and pulls out a file. Her name is printed on the top and she swallows a bitter laugh. God, she is so tired of files about her. "Well, as much as I'd like to help you, I don't think I can. I do believe that when you accepted our offer for your scholarship and place in our music program, you agreed to stay for at least four years." He flips open the cover, gesturing to the papers inside. Of course, she had expected this too. She'd gone over every possible thing he could say to her. "I no longer wish to attend this university, Dean Thomas." She brushes a wayward curl behind her ear. The man across from her sighs, a forged look of pity on his face. And suddenly, she is exhausted. Unbelievably tired of men telling her what to do. First, her father keeping her inside their estate her whole life. Keeping her from the world beyond. It had taken her a while to realize it, but she knows now how detrimental his sheltering was to her growth. How unprepared she was for all of this due to it. It was how all these men had shifted the course of her life. The immortals. The son of the man sitting across from her. Almalfi. Flynt. And now the dean, again. No more. Determination straightens her spine, rolls back her shoulders. "Classes start tomorrow, and we can't just-" She cuts off his drawling excuses. Bending forward, she reaches into the bag she had brought with her. His eyes drop to where the collar of her shirt gapes slightly. A smirk curling along his lips. Like father, like son. Enid sits up quickly, a scowl on her face. A folder of her own now in her hand. "Have you read the campus newspaper that was released this morning?" She pulls the folded paper out. Dean Thomas's head tilts in confusion. "No, I haven't had the chance yet." There is a wariness in his voice. Standing from her seat, she barely feels the pain in her ankle as a victorious smile sprouts on her face. She sets the newspaper on the desk before him, right over the folder bearing her name. In the center of the page is a photo of a group of boys, roguish grins on their faces. By Any Means Necessary: Fraternity Forms Culture of Assault. It is bold across the top of the page, dark ink cementing their heinous actions. "The article was published anonymously, so there'll be some doubt as to its validity…" She muses, staring down at her words. Dean Thomas is pale, his mouth gaping in disbelief. She gives herself a moment to smile. Pride swelling in her chest. "If you make some statements about Patrick's innocence, you can probably mend his image. Paint his memory up with bright colors until all anyone can remember is a smart, charming boy." Her tone is light, gentle. Enid reaches into her coat pocket, pulling out a flash drive. She sets it down on top, right over Patrick Thomas II's face. "However, if you do not withdraw me from this institution right this moment, I will go public with what is on that flash drive. It has video evidence of your son's involvement in the contest I detailed in the article. I will not stop until everyone in this country knows that your son nearly raped me." The words are as sharp as knives and she aims for his heart. At the back of her mind, a memory of smoke and the harsh bark of a tree shivers. She sets it aflame. He inhales quickly, shock alight on his face as he stares at her. As though actually seeing her for the first time. Wordlessly, he spins to his computer. For a while, there is only the sound of his fingers flying across the keyboard. When he turns back to her, there is a grim look on his face. Defeat. Satisfaction is sweet on her tongue. "I wish you well in your future endeavors, Miss McCarthy. Pennington University is losing a fine musician." His voice is small, so soft she can barely hear it.