Page 58 of The Bleak Beginning

I stumble backward, coughing and sputtering, my eyes burning from the tiny particles. As I try to regain my composure, I hear a soft click followed by a whirring sound.

The room is flooded with a flash of bright light. I blink rapidly, momentarily blinded, and realize with horror that I’m staring directly into the lens of a camera. It’s perched directly behind the fan that turned me into a walking, glittering rainbow.

“Prescott!” I roar, my voice echoing off the walls.

Rage boils inside me as I lunge for the camera and smash it into a million pieces, the remnants scattering across her floor.

The satisfaction of destroying the device is short-lived, my rage nowhere near sated.

A sinister smile spreads across my face, the corners of my mouth curling upward. Well, if Prescott felt the need to settle in, I knew how to make sure she stayed exactly where she was.

Chapter 11

Alex

Iwake up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes before grimacing at the stiffness in my back. Another night on this lumpy cot. At least it’s better than sleeping in soggy, wet sheets with a gaping hole in the ceiling.

Swinging my legs over the side of the makeshift bed, I wince again as my stiff muscles protest the movement.

Pushing aside a mop, I go to the door on a yawn, praying no one will be in the hallway if I emerge early enough. Not that I had any way of actually knowing the time. This stupid schooldidn’t allow cellphones, and I wasn’t about to drag an alarm clock in here. It’s the weekend, for crying out loud.

Sure, I may not be getting the best sleep, but I wasn’t about to derail the little I was by adding in an alarm.

No way, not today.

I wasn’t even a fan of them on a regular school day.

I press an ear to the door, just to be cautious. The hallway beyond seems eerily quiet. Perfect.

I wrinkle my nose as I tug at the collar of my pajamas. The scent of strong cleaning products lingers on my clothes. Clearly, I need to take a shower.

Reaching for the doorknob, I turn it, but it does nothing, so I jiggle it again, more urgently this time. It refuses to budge. Panic begins to rise in my chest as I realize I’m locked in.

What the hell? How is this possible?

My eyes dart around the cramped closet, searching for another way out. The small window near the far side catches my attention, but it’s barely big enough for a child to squeeze through, let alone me.

“Hello?” I call out, my voice echoing off the wooden shelves stacked with cleaning supplies. “Is anyone out there? I’m locked in!”

Silence greets me. Of course, it’s early on a weekend. No one’s likely to be roaming the halls at this hour.

I bang on the door, hoping someone—anyone—might hear. “Help! I’m stuck in here!”

My fists pound against the unyielding wood until they’re sore. I slump against the door, sliding down to sit on the cold tile floor. How long will I be trapped in here? Hours? Days?

What will happen to Dolores?

As panic threatens to overwhelm me, I force myself to take deep breaths. Dolores is a snake plant, she can survive weeks without water.

A wave of relief washes over me, and I sling my ashy blonde locks into a makeshift bun at the nape of my neck to help me think more clearly. There has to be a way out of this.

I scan the shelves again, this time with purpose. Cleaning supplies, mops, brooms…wait. My eyes lock on a thin metal rod propping up one of the shelves. It’s not ideal, but it might work.

Scrambling to my feet, I yank the narrow object free, sending a cascade of various bottles tumbling to the floor. The crash makes me wince, but the noise is the least of my worries right now.

Kneeling by the door, I examine the lock. It’s old, like everything else in this decrepit university. I jam the rod into the keyhole, jiggling it with growing desperation. Sweat beads on my forehead as I work, the minutes ticking by agonizingly slow. Just as I’m about to give up, I feel something catch. My heart leaps into my throat as I apply more pressure, twisting the rod with all my might.

A satisfying click echoes through the tiny room, and the door swings open with a creak. I stumble out into the dimly lit hallway, gulping in the moldy air like a drowning woman breaking the surface.

---