Page 3 of The Last De Loughrey Dynasty

“Dorothee!” My mother’s sharp tone scolded me.

But Headmaster Shaw shook his head gently, indicating that my question was fine.

“We prefer the word‘challenge’because it reflects a process of growth. You’re here to learn and work with the way your mind struggles to adjust to the world around you. To embrace who you are.”

That sounded awful.

Easy for him to say. He didn’t wake up night after night, screaming from dreams of people being burned alive. He hadn’t been stuck in my skin.

“I have to apologise for my daughter,” Mum said, her voice thin and practiced. “It’s been a tough few months for all of us with her condition.”

For all of us. Right. As though she or my father, busy living his best life in the United States, cared.

Doctor Chadwick stood and grabbed a set of keys from the desk. He was tall and well-dressed—someone who probably rotated through the same five suits every week in the exact same order. Everything about him seemed overly precise. The way he pushed his hair back when even a single strand fell out of place, his perfectly trimmed nails, his polished shoes. He was a perfectionist.

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Mrs De Loughrey,” he said, nodding to my mother before turning to me with a warm smile, “and you, Dorothee. I hope you have a good first day tomorrow, and don’t forget our session at noon.”

With that, Doctor Chadwick left. A moment later, Headmaster Shaw handed me another piece of paper.

“Your roommate’s name is Mairead Alderidge. She’s currently in her history class, which is on the floor above us. Classroom seven. Professor Kane is expecting you, and he’ll send Mairead to meet you. After that, you’re free to explore the campus or settle into your room, again, it’s your choice.”

I nodded as I looked over the schedule he’d just given me. To my surprise, I didn’t have as many classes as I expected. My mother had made this sound like an elite school with a relentless workload.

“Your books are already in your dorm room. Curfew is at nine,” the headmaster added.

I nodded again but noticed my mother’s frustrated sigh when I looked up.

And please, for the love of God, open your mouth and speak, Dorothee.

As you wish, Mother.

“Thank you!” I blurted, my voice overly loud and enthusiastic. I cringed at myself as I quickly left the room.

Rain had started falling while we were inside, streaking the windows with a blurry coat.

I couldn’t explain it, but the more I walked through this place, the more it felt… familiar. Like I’d been here once before.

CHAPTER TWO

DOROTHEE

Room seven,Headmaster Shaw had told me. I stood in front of the door for what felt like an eternity, five minutes and forty-four seconds to be exact.

Knocking on a door wasn’t particularly hard for me, nor was it a challenge. It was the thought of this new life that scared me. If I knocked on this door, it would feel like I belonged here. I might meet people with the same haunted minds as mine, but did I really want to be around people like me?

My parents always said I was exhausting. What if they were too exhausting for me, or worse, what if I was too exhausting for them?

“Are you going to knock?” a voice behind me asked, startling me. I spun around, holding my breath. Standing there was a man not much older than Doctor Chadwick. I guessed he was the professor I was supposed to inform that my roommate had been excused for the rest of the lesson.

I glanced down at the watch on my wrist, my mind frantically searching for numbers or structure to calm my racing heart and prevent my stomach from rebelling. Nervousness was the devil on my shoulder. I despised the feeling of not being in control,especially when my body conjured symptoms that were purely the production of my mind.

Thirty-six… thirty-seven… thirty—

“Lesson number one, Miss De Loughrey, the class starts when I get there. If I’m ten or twenty minutes late, then class starts ten minutes after nine, on time,” he informed me. I forced myself to lift my gaze from the watch. He wasn’t speaking to me like a person having a normal conversation. He was scolding me.

I didn’t remember doing anything wrong.

“I apologise, sir—”

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