Page 41 of Ruthless Chaos
His words are a slap in the face.Enjoy it.
Tears well up in my eyes. “Which part of it should I enjoy? The sexual assault or the humiliation in front of a hundred other girls?” My lip trembles. “Or maybe I should enjoy knowing that if I screw this up, they’re going to kill me and hang my body from a maypole?”
He’s indifferent. It feels like he’s ripped my heart out and stomped on it.
Uncle Laurent heaves a sigh, and gives me a long, apathetic look.
“You would rather take your chances with being blown up, then?”
I furrow my brows. “That’s not—”
He cuts me off. “Those are your two options.” He runs a hand over his brow. “Anywhere you are, there will be a threat on your life. I’ve given you the better of the choices you had, yet here you are, calling me towhine.”
The rest of my protest dies in my throat.
“Life is full of difficult choices, Allie. You would do well to learn that quickly.”
Uncle Laurent ends the call.
I stare at the blank screen, stunned into silence.
Now I understand how he and my father are best friends. They are the same—heartless, but in different ways. Sure, Uncle Laurent might not scream and destroy things like my father does, but his frigidity is destructive just the same.
He didn’t even care I was hurt.
With the back of my hand, I blot my eyes to dry the tears without messing up my makeup. At least Uncle Laurent’s reaction to my concerns has given me some closure. If I didn’t know it before, I know it now—I’m all alone.
I’ll have to rely on me, myself and I to get through this.
After triple checking the contents of my tote bag, I sling it over my shoulder and bring up the campus map on my phone. The campus is laid out in a semicircle, with the faculty buildings in the center. Hemlock House is on the northern tip of campus.
The shortest path to the School of Humanities is a scenic one.
The early morning sun is a warm kiss on my forehead, the woodiness of the nearby forest is high on the air. It carries the sound of birds and the smell of blooming flowers. I take a deep breath, basking in the crispness of the air.
It smells a lot like the forest back home. It’s comforting.
Comparing what I see with the map on my phone, I realize my path will take me past Kingmaker House. Rubbing my hands on my forearms, I pick up the pace a little bit and try not to think of that place, or the man that I now know is within its walls.
It’s easier said than done when the building comes into view.
Even if I didn’t know a thing about the Kingmakers, I would have been able to pick out Kingmaker House from the buildings on campus.
The place looks fit for a king.
It’s a grand stonework building, stretching over four floors with a steeply pitched gable roof and tall chimneys with golden decorative caps. It’s larger than Hemlock House, which has a similar number of floors but isn’t nearly as sprawling.
Considering I got lost in Hemlock House on my first day, I bet the inside of Kingmaker House is like a maze. It looks more like an old colonial manor than a college dorm.
As I amble down the walkway, the building becomes larger than life.
There’s something about it that inspires awe. At first, I think it’s because it’s so obviously very old and grand. But as I get closer, I figure out why I can’t take my eyes off it.
It looks like a completely different world from the rest of the campus.
The front lawns are a deep green—unusual for this point in autumn. They are well-manicured, with intricate pyramid topiaries dotting the perimeter. A plethora of golden flowers and miniature trees line a white-washed stone walkway that crisscrosses the lawn.
The centerpiece though, is a huge stone fountain in the shape of a man that sits on the western the edge of the gardens. He’s posed like a warrior, pointing his sword as if he’s about to attack an enemy. A torrent of water flows from the tip of the sword.
