Page 6 of Deafened By Silence
“Nice of you to show your face but you’ve missed class – again.” A whiney voice snides. I turn back to the stick of a man behind a large desk with narrowed eyes. Hunched over to peer at a laptop screen through his thick-rimmed glasses, a white lab coat swamps his frame like the failed scientist he is. Stalking closer, I trail my finger across the wood and push his laptop closed.
“Remember who you are speaking to, Peterson.” I slam my freshly printed assignment onto the table and lean forward, hardening my features enough to make him swallow hard. “I’m only here now as a courtesy. How are my grades looking?”
“Top marks, as usual,” he grumbles with a clenched jaw. I drink in his hate, thriving on the high of control. I have the entirefaculty firmly beneath my heel, forced to dance to whatever tune I feel like. I take a long inhale, the crisp air of being untouchable filling my lungs before striding out with a huge grin on my face.
A flash of blonde whips into view, slender arms snaring around my neck. Klara. Her full chest pushes against me as she bobs up and down excitedly, as if that might persuade me to hug her back. Settling on staring at a spot on the ceiling, I wait out the daily torture that comes with having a so-called girlfriend. Even the term is offensive, but this is one of two aspects of life my father thinks he controls.
Klara Kavanagh is the daughter of the college’s most generous investor, so it’s expected for her to be my date to all of the high society galas we attend together whilst her mom not-so-secretly screws my father in the cloakroom and her dad acts none the wiser. I can’t stand upper-class politics, but I have a plan and a hefty allowance which funds my ink addition so for now, I’ll play along.
Finally peeling Klara off me, my hands braced on her shoulders, I glance at the hourglass inked onto the back of my left hand. The sand’s long gone, replaced by a mound of tiny skulls. In the upper half, only one remains, a golden crown balanced on its bony head like it’s seconds from falling. That one’s me, because time doesn’t wait for anyone, king or otherwise.
Klara crosses her arms and stamps her foot, trying her hardest to look intimidating in heels that cost more than most people’s rent. I drag my gaze back to her, the ring in my eyebrow tugging as I cock it and wait for her to drop the pout.
“I’ve got a free period,” she purrs, unzipping her white fur coat to reveal she’s wearing absolutely nothing underneath. “Want to head back to yours?”
Her body’s objectively perfect. A huge, perky rack, toned stomach, and that cliché Barbie-blonde hair and ice-blue eyescombo that’s supposed to short-circuit male brains. But it does nothing for me. There’s no thrill in having my meal served on a silver platter. I want to chase it through the woods, corner it, sink my teeth in, and ruin it for anyone else.
“If you spent more of your free periods in the library instead of lying beneath me like a dead fish,” I murmur, brushing past her, “maybe there wouldn’t be so many rumors flying around about me dating a ditsy slut.” Klara freezes, her jaw going slack and tears instantly welling, but they don’t fall. Not real ones, anyway. I don't look back as I shove through the nearest door and straight into the bitter cold.
Preemptive trickles of snow drift through the courtyard, lazily speckling the ground between shoeprints. I yank the neck of my parka tighter as I push through a group of sophomores blocking the path. They don’t register me until my shoulder clips a linebacker built with a brain to match. He takes a step toward me, but the look I shoot over my shoulder makes him think twice. Coward. I bite down on my lip ring and keep walking, the coppery taste of blood sinking into my mouth. It’s not as thrilling as a fight, but it takes the edge off.
Cutting across the main quad and through alleyways, I don’t stop until my place comes into view. My personal kingdom, and the best damn party pad in the state. Tucked away on the edge of campus, the two-story whitewash house is all mine, although it’s never empty.
Even now, when most people are locked away in classrooms, there will be half-naked girls snoring on the sofas, some randoms tangled in upstairs beds, stoners hotboxing the porch, and more than likely a bunch of guys kicking a ball around the backyard. I don’t know their names. Don’t need to. They knowmine, and that’s what counts. I’m the fucking king, and they are my desperate, eager subjects. I come and go as I please, andthey keep the house pristine, hoping I’ll toss them a scrap of acknowledgment.
My boot hits the bottom step just as my phone starts vibrating again. I sigh, head drooping forward. If I don’t answer, there’s a real risk he’ll show up in person, and after spending the holidays locked in the mausoleum we call home, I’ve earned at least three months of peace.
“What?” I answer without checking the caller ID, even though I already know.
“Have you found her yet?” my father’s voice crackles down the line, cold and clipped as usual.
“I’ve been busy with my studies,” I say, stretching lazily and yawning into the receiver. “I’ll track down your precious little charity case when it suits me.”
“Don’t bullshit me. You haven’t stepped foot in a classroom all semester.” That gets my attention. I tune out the rest, mentally tallying which rat-faced professor is brave, or dumb, enough to tattle. Could be Vickers, that twitchy rodent of a woman who gossips like it's oxygen. Or Polesdon, who practically wets herself every time my dad darkens her doorway. “–your allowance,” he finishes.
“Yeah, yeah, I heard the threats yesterday. Human experiment. Bigger research budget. Caribbean villa. Boo hoo.” I lift my free hand to catch a flake of snow, then crush it in my palm.
“Just do it. Be the mosthospitableversion of yourself you can manage.”
I actually laugh at that. Coming from a man who wouldn’t let his own mother stay over Christmas because she’d ‘clash with the decor.’ Sensing the call’s about to end, I speak quickly.
“You’re wrong, by the way. Idoattend one class, I haven’t missed a single ass-crack-of-dawn basketball practice.” A beat passes as my smug grin takes back position on my face. Screwingwith my dad is a sure-fire way to brighten my day every damn time.
“Well, at least you’ll have a backup when I disown you.” I chuckle as the line clicks dead. That “when” is the only thing keeping me going. Once it happens, I’ll finally be free to burn this entire world to the ground.
Pocketing my phone, I whistle at a group of jocks through the window. They leap to their feet like Pavlov’s dogs and stand to attention on the porch. The kind of power that buzzes through me, lighting every nerve ending in my body, can only come from this level of control. “There’s a new scholarship girl on campus. You find her and you bring her to me.” I push my tongue against my lip ring, watching them nod and run down the road like a pack of wolves out on a hunt. I feel like an idiot now for trying to track her down myself, but at least this way, the job gets done.
My father’s eyes actually lit up the day I handed him my Waversea application to sign his approval. Well, one eyebrow twitched and the corners of his mouth uncurled slightly, which is the proudest I’ve ever seen him. I’m sure he had long, sleepless nights picturing me derailing his legacy. He would’ve been right, if not for one inconvenient truth. I loathe him too much to simply sit home and be stubborn.
I loathe every word out of his smug mouth. Every ounce of deluded self-worth. Every disgusted glare he’s ever flicked in my direction. And more than anything, I loathe this academy that he worships like a goddamn shrine. Waversea is a rotting temple of legacy and lies. It’s filled with rejects and overachievers and charity cases who somehow, against all logic, have managed to win more of his attention than I ever have.
Fuck that.
Instead of following in my father’s footsteps, as expected, I’m going to become a man of my own creation, as close to a God as any mortal has ever been. They will worship me, falling at myfeet and begging for any scrap of attention I can be bothered to give. Then he will know not to underestimate me. His legacy will crumble into dust as I devote my life to destroying his.
Piece by piece, brick by brick, I’m going to tear this college apart from the inside out and set alight to any buildings that dare to remain standing. Only once the flames are reflected within my eyes and warming my cheeks will I be happy, and I don’t give a fuck who’s stuck inside when it goes down.
Chapter Five
